Sasha hadn’t made much progress on the Gatorade when Kinsey slipped back into the room. The sports drink sat on the bedside table next to the untouched trail mix. Sasha was sitting up, but she was pressed into the corner, curled around a pillow, her face buried in the pale yellow cotton.
Kinsey paused by the door, briefly seized by the conviction she was already too late. There had been just one tiny window of opportunity to make things work between them, and Kinsey had screwed it up and missed it.
Irritably, she shoved that idea away and squared her shoulders. “Okay, Sasha,” she said, snatching the Gatorade off the bedside table and offering it, stiff-armed, to Sasha. “No more excuses. If you don’t get some water or something in your system you’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”
“I don’t care,” Sasha murmured into the pillow.
“Well, I do,” Kinsey said stubbornly. “You’re gonna take care of yourself, missy, or I’m gonna do it for you.”
Sasha only curled up tighter.
The sports drink fell to Kinsey’s side. Clearly the brusque order method wasn’t working. It was stupid to have tried it.
She perched gingerly on the edge of the mattress, one leg tucked under her, no longer sure if she could do anything to help. The way Sasha was acting, maybe it would’ve been better to ask Nova to stay with her. Nova was the one who managed to bring her home. And Sasha hadn’t seemed so hell-bent on hiding her face before Kinsey turned up.
“Sasha,” Kinsey breathed, trying to make her voice softer. She reached out cautiously to touch Sasha’s sleeve with the backs of her fingers, hoping to soothe her out of that defensive ball. Sasha didn’t flinch from her, at least. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
“Were you not aware I get blackout drunk on Monday nights?”
The sarcastic deflection thing was hardly new, but the dark, miserable tone certainly was. Kinsey didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. She thought they were actually making some progress yesterday morning. That Sasha was starting to believe her when she said she cared about her. And now she was more closed off than ever.
“Sasha. Look at me.” Kinsey tugged at the pillow and Sasha let her pull it away from her face.
She was flushed pink from her ears to her nose, and her eyelashes were damp. She wouldn’t meet Kinsey’s eyes. She kept her gaze lowered as she hid her mouth against her knees.
“Come on, Sasha,” Kinsey tried, an edge of desperation slipping into her tone. “Talk to me.” She nudged Sasha’s knee with the Gatorade until she accepted it. “You never drink. Something must have made you want to start, right? So what was it?”
Sasha scraped her nail over the Gatorade’s lid, saying nothing.
“Is it—Is it us?” Kinsey asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. She didn’t think she was very successful. “Is it me?”
Sasha’s eyes snapped up to look at her properly for the first time all evening. “What? No. God, Kins, no. Never. How can you ask that?”
Kinsey puffed out a shallow breath of relief. “Then what is it, hon?”
Sasha wet her lips, blinking hard as her gaze fell to the drink in her hands. She finally took a few sips, though maybe only as an attempt to avoid the subject.
“Sasha,” Kinsey whispered. She crawled up beside her, loosely mirroring Sasha’s posture, and lightly tucked a stray wisp of wheat-blond hair behind her ear. “Let me help you,” she begged. “Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can do something.”
“You can’t,” Sasha said thickly. A tear escaped and stuttered down her face, unchecked. “Nobody can. It’s . . . dammit,” she choked out under her breath, dragging her fingers back through her hair. “You want to know what happened? I had a stupid argument with my mom. She wanted me to give her money and when I told her no, she said—” Sasha let out a strangled kind of sob, but only tensed when Kinsey tried instinctively to lay a hand on her shoulder.
“She’s a junkie, you know,” Sasha said, expression half hidden by the arm she kept between them like a shield. Her voice was choked with tears, but her inflection was strangely hard. As though she wanted to use the words to push Kinsey away. “My mom. Has been, on and off, my whole life. That’s why she was asking for money. So she could get high instead of going home.”
Kinsey didn’t know what to say. She knew Sasha didn’t like talking about her mom, but she’d thought . . . She wasn’t sure what she thought. Nothing as bad as this.
“People don’t know what it’s like,” Sasha plowed on, seemingly unsurprised by Kinsey’s silence. “Trying to keep your family going when you have to fight for every moment of normal. When your family isn’t even really a family. And you’re pretending so hard to make it look like one anyway.” She moved her hand from her hair to cover her eyes and Kinsey realized she was shaking. “I was always supposed to cover for her. Always. Because if I said anything—if I got anyone else involved, I was ratting her out. Ruining our so-called family because I was too weak to put up with a little instability.”
“Oh, Sasha,” Kinsey breathed, putting her arms around Sasha’s shoulders and holding her tight. She didn’t know what else she could do. She felt so useless. Her family was whole and functioning and unconditionally loving, even at their worst. It sounded like Sasha’s family had been none of those things. No wonder she didn’t believe Kinsey could help her.
Sasha let out a sob that broke Kinsey’s heart. “I can’t do it anymore, Kins. I can’t. Every single thing I ever did was despite her. Despite all the moving. Despite being passed around between my mom and my gran like an ugly houseplant—”
“Stop that,” Kinsey said firmly, turning Sasha’s face towards her and holding her gaze with all the stubbornness she had in her. “You’re not an ugly houseplant. You’re a lovely, talented, precious human being. Anyone who doesn’t see that can go fuck themselves.”
Sasha didn’t seem to hear. She searched Kinsey’s eyes as though they were living on different planets, as though Kinsey might disappear at any moment. Her fingers traced a shallow curve on the back of Kinsey’s hand like a question she couldn’t decipher . . .
Then she turned back to her knees, expression blank, body tensing.
“Sasha—” Kinsey began.
“I almost killed her,” Sasha said. “My mom. When I was ten.”
Kinsey froze, not sure she’d heard Sasha right. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Sasha said, her inflection so flat it was almost a monotone. “I was . . . We were living in this shitty trailer on the back of my aunt’s ranch, and my mom didn’t like that I was up at the house all the time. She used to complain about it every time I came home. Mostly just dumb shit. She’d accuse me of gossiping about her, or she’d get upset because she thought my aunt and uncle were implying she couldn’t take care of her own kid because they’d made sandwiches for everyone for lunch. One day she got off on this rant about . . . I don’t know. Something about Aunt Rosemary trying to turn me against her. And I couldn’t take it anymore. She was shouting all these lies and I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t help it. I was so angry. Before I could stop myself I was shouting back that at least Aunt Rosemary never blew the food money on vodka.
“I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.” Sasha pushed tears out of her eyes. “We only ever fought like that when I lost my temper. If I’d just let her get the rant out of her system it would’ve been fine. She got real mad after I said that. Hauled me outside and got this rusty old pair of wire cutters from the shed. She said if I was going to disrespect her, she was going to make damn sure I wouldn’t disobey her. And she broke the chain on my bike. Cut it to pieces so I couldn’t fix it. Shut me in the shed with the bike and the wire cutters and told me she’d come get me when she was good and ready.”
Kinsey didn’t know what to do. Or how to fix something this big. She found Sasha’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “Did she hurt you?”
Sasha stared at Kinsey’s hand as though she didn’t know what she was supposed to do with it. “Not really,” she said. Which wasn’t a no, Kinsey noted with a rush of protectiveness. “I was more angry than anything. I was just . . . I was so sick of it. Her getting these stupid grudges in her head and taking them out on me. So I waited until I was sure she’d gone back in the trailer, and then I broke the window and climbed out. I still have a scar from the glass,” she said, turning her hand to show the old scar slicing across the side of her palm.
Kinsey traced the thin, backward J lightly with her fingers. She’d always assumed the scar had been from an accident during a soccer game. Or some adventuring mishap while Sasha was running through the woods with her cousins. Kinsey’s heart ached at the idea of ten-year-old Sasha being forced to break out of a shed. Why hadn’t anyone stepped in to get her away from her mom? Couldn’t any of her aunts and uncles see what was happening? Kinsey swallowed the emotion in her throat and brought Sasha’s hand to her lips, even though it was far too late to kiss the wound away.
Sasha’s eyes flicked up to meet Kinsey’s, wary confusion written on her face. Kinsey didn’t know how to convince her she wasn’t looking for an excuse to leave. Except to stay right here, holding her hand tight.
“What did you do when you made it outside?” she asked softly.
Sasha dropped her gaze, brushing Kinsey’s knuckles with her thumb. “I left,” she said. “I didn’t care what Ma said. I didn’t care I had to walk a mile and a half to get up to the house. I wrapped the cut in the edge of my shirt and just . . . left. My aunt patched up my hand when I got there. And she gave me one of my cousins’ old shirts to change into while she tried to get the bloodstains out in the wash.”
“Didn’t she do anything?” Kinsey demanded. “About your mom?”
Sasha’s expression didn’t change as she gave a tiny shrug. “I didn’t tell her. I said I’d hurt myself falling off my bike.”
“Why? Maybe she could’ve helped.”
Sasha shook her head, shoulders going up another inch. “No one ever helped.”
Kinsey’s jaw tightened. Someone should’ve done something. Rescued Sasha before she ever got locked in a shed for standing up for herself. Before things got so bad she stopped hoping for anyone to save her.
“I didn’t want to go back,” Sasha went on in her lifeless monotone. “I almost asked Trev to ask his mom if I could stay the night. But I was afraid I’d get in more trouble if Aunt Rosemary called home and found out I was supposed to be grounded. So after dinner, I walked home.
“It . . .” Sasha’s voice faltered, and she drew her fingers out of Kinsey’s grip and wrapped both hands around the neglected Gatorade. Her face went blank, her eyes hollow. “It was dark. The radio was blaring. I tried calling for her, but nobody answered. I thought she might’ve been so mad she’d run off with a boyfriend or something. But when I checked her bedroom, she was passed out cold. Needle in her arm. Wouldn’t wake up, no matter how hard I shook her or how loud I shouted.”
“Oh god,” Kinsey breathed, stomach clenching.
“I couldn’t find her cell anywhere to call for help,” Sasha continued, as though she hadn’t heard. “So I ran for the house. Trevor ran out first, no shoes or anything. His dad came out with the shotgun right after him. I must’ve been screaming, but I don’t really . . . I don’t remember it. I remember I couldn’t breathe right. I remember thinking no one was moving fast enough. I remember Trevor had to repeat almost everything I said before my aunt and uncle could understand. As soon as they realized what happened, my aunt went inside to call 911, and my uncle got in his truck and drove up to the trailer.”
Kinsey swallowed the urge to demand why no one had insisted on driving Sasha home in the first place. They might’ve spared her finding her mom like that. At the very least, there would’ve been someone there who could have taken charge of the situation. Someone who wasn’t ten years old and scared of losing her only parent. But Sasha was struggling to get the story out already, and Kinsey didn’t want to interrupt just to make her feel like she had to defend the only people who were there to help her.
“They wouldn’t let me do anything.” Sasha’s voice was breaking, but she pressed on stubbornly. “I got shunted into the kitchen, away from everybody but Trev. People kept showing up to the house. Family mostly. The police were there at one point. None of them would tell me what was going on. All anyone would say was . . . was I should stop worrying, and I’d done all I could, and it would work out in the end. Bullshit you tell kids when you don’t want them to get upset. I was sure she was dead. And it was my fault.”
“Oh, Sasha, no.” Kinsey gripped her shoulder. This was why Sasha said she’d almost killed her mom? Because she’d put off going home after a fight? “No, hon. It wasn’t your fault in the least.”
Shaking her head, Sasha scooted down until she was curled up on her side, back pressed against the wall. “That story I told you about me and Trev getting stuck in that tree?” she said tightly. “We weren’t adventuring. I was going crazy in that house, with everyone lying to me. So I just walked out the back door. Across the yard and the vegetable garden and into the forest in the dark. Trevor was the only one who noticed. He was the only one who—the only one who followed me out there. I . . .” A sob interrupted her, and she buried her face in her hands, weeping.
Kinsey might have no idea how to chase away all the demons of Sasha’s past, but she couldn’t just sit there and watch her crumble. She moved the Gatorade to the bedside table and lay down next to Sasha, pulling her close. “Come here.”
Sasha wrapped her arm around Kinsey, fisting her hand in the cotton of her shirt. “I can’t do it anymore,” she sobbed, her voice muffled against Kinsey’s shoulder. “I can’t. I don’t care if she’s my mom. I don’t care if no one else will take care of her. I can’t do it. I’m breaking my back trying to save her, and she doesn’t even care. She only ever talks to me when she wants something from me. And I can’t. I can’t.”
Kinsey pressed her mouth against Sasha’s fever-warm forehead. “I’m sorry, hon,” she said hoarsely, wishing there was more she could say. More she could do.
“I tried so hard,” Sasha said with this awful helplessness. “I tried so hard and it still wasn’t enough.”
“It’s okay,” Kinsey murmured, stroking Sasha’s trembling back. “It’s okay, hon. I’m right here.”
Sasha shook her head, but didn’t respond. All Kinsey could do was hold her and mutter useless nothings in her ear, trying to soothe away the tears, to persuade the tension running through her to ease off.
No wonder Sasha went for the conversational self-eject button whenever her mom came up. She sounded even worse than Kinsey had guessed. How could anyone think they could get away with treating Sasha like that? With leeching away her smiles and determination until she was reduced to this?
Kinsey wished she was better equipped to . . . do something. Sasha had always been so good at picking Kinsey up when she was down. She’d been her defender, her confidant, a constant support.
Kinsey just wanted to reciprocate. To make Sasha feel cherished. Important. Like affection and kindness were the norm, and not something to flinch from, as though love was only a pretty wrapping for an emotional pipe bomb.
But Kinsey had none of Sasha’s warm, ready sympathy. None of her sweetness. All Kinsey had was cold bluntness that was more likely to make it sound like she was picking a fight than expressing affection.
She continued stroking Sasha’s back as the tears subsided, until her shoulders relaxed and her breathing became even and shallow. Until her fingers released their vice-grip on the back of Kinsey’s shirt and she had drifted into sleep at last.
Kinsey bit her lip. She wasn’t willing to disentangle herself from Sasha. She doubted her presence could be doing much good, but she couldn’t leave Sasha alone now, and risk her waking up to someone else abandoning her.
Even if Kinsey seemed like the worst possible person to help with this kind of situation. She wasn’t a particularly nice person. And she had a knack for torpedoing all her relationships at some point or another. She cared about Sasha and wanted to protect her from anything that would hurt her—but what if Kinsey was one of the things Sasha needed protection from?
She shoved that thought away quickly. If she just . . . listened, and kept digging her heels in, maybe she could keep Sasha from blocking her out anymore. And maybe they could still make it through this little rough patch in one piece.
She brushed a kiss against Sasha’s forehead, careful not to wake her. “I love you,” she whispered on a breath so soft she barely heard herself. She wanted to say it. Even if Sasha would probably freak out if she heard it. Even if she wasn’t yet sure enough of herself to make a promise that big. Even if it didn’t seem anywhere near enough.
She thought she felt Sasha sigh, but she didn’t wake.
Kinsey pulled the comforter over them as best she could and reached back to switch off the light. Before long, she had joined Sasha in sleep, both of them cuddled up together in the narrow bed.