With a quick reminder not to overstep, I put the distance between us neither of us wants but both know we need.

“Now’s your chance to explain yourself,” she whispers, stroking the compass on her bracelet.

The fact she wears the one thing I’ve given her lets me know she still believes in the things I’d said all those months ago.

“Junior year, when I was being a pain in your ass, and you stormed out of Government class, I asked you to give me time. Time to explain myself, and to let you get to know me. That’s what I need now. I need time to get this all out, but right now, I need you to walk with me. I can’t be late.” I nod for her follow me. Luck must be on my side because her steps fall in line with mine.

Our hands graze during the short walk. The current running through me screams to reach for her, but I resist the temptation.

“Where are we going, Graham?” She takes double steps to my one. “And will you please slow down?”

“I told you I was going to be late. Try to keep up.” I laugh. Bossing her around is as natural now as it was back in high school.

We walk nearly two blocks without speaking, and I welcome the silence. Her presence is enough for me to be at ease. I stop in front of the old brick building. Kennedy stares at me, an amused, but confused expression on her face.

“Really?” she questions. “This is what you’re going to be late for?” Her fingers flicker to the white lettering on the brick wall.

I nod with enthusiasm and she smiles back at me. “When I found out you were coming into town, I was going to skip my visit, but Betty called a few hours ago, and seemed worried about one of the boys.” I take her hand in mine, dig out my key, and lead her into the building.

“Mr. Graham,” Ben, the strongest and brightest seven-year-old I’ve ever met, screeches when I walk through the doors. “Mrs. Betty said you were coming today, but I didn’t believe her.”

I ruffle his hair and bend down, reluctantly releasing my hold on Kennedy. “I figured we could have a rematch on the air hockey table.”

“I guess so.” Ben peers up at me, but he’s quick to divert his eyes to the floor. He’s become a champion at hiding his feeling. He narrows his eyes at Kennedy. “Who’s she?” His eyebrows scrunch together.

“That, Ben, is the girl I’m going to marry one day.” Her wide eyes gawk at me, and I cover my mouth with my sleeve to mute my chuckle.

“I don’t think she wants to marry you, Mr. Graham.” Ben giggles.

“She doesn’t know it yet, but she will.” I wink at her but speak to Ben.

“I thought you said girls have cooties.” Ben wrinkles his nose in disgust.

His innocence is the most refreshing part of our visits. “One day you won’t mind so much, buddy.”

“Whatever you say.” He flits his hand, dismissing me, and turns back to Kennedy. “If Mr. Graham wants to marry you, then you should say yes. He’s my best friend.”

As Ben runs out of the room, Kennedy’s eyes water as she examines the barefooted seven-year-old wearing Batman pajamas. What she doesn’t know is, Ben has been an orphan for almost two years. After his father was incarcerated for murdering his mother, he had nowhere to go but here.

“What is this place? From the outside, it looks like a gym,” she says.

“An orphanage for boys and girls who’ve lost parents to violence. It was founded almost fifteen years ago by a group of women who lost a friend to domestic violence. They want to give children who’ve lost everything, a safe place to go in a world where cruelty is all they’ve ever known.”

“And their fathers?”

“All that matters are the children here are safe.”

Right in front of my eyes, Kennedy’s heart melts in places where her guards have been up. “How long have you been coming here?” Her eyes dance around the room, taking in the bright primary colors splashed across every surface.

I rub my neck, easing a fraction of my tension. “Seven or eight months.”

Kennedy does the math in her head, but she doesn’t argue the semantics. Instead, she walks further into the building. Her hand graces a sign reminding the kids to always dream. She turns back to me, her hand extended. “Show me what you’ve been up to.”

I grab her hand and hold her in place. “Before we go any further, I need to tell you something.”

Now she rubs the back of her neck. The tension between us is palpable, taking life in the crooks of our muscles. “What is it?”

“Freshman year, when I moved to Georgia, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, because I felt like a part of you needed me, but another part of you didn’t.”

“Graham …”

“No, let me say this.” I shake my head at the memories of the last year. “When you forced me to take a few steps back, it scared the shit out of me, Ken. I physically felt you slipping through my fingers, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.”

She pulls away, staring out the window. “I was in a bad place. It wasn’t anything you did. It was me. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“While you went through everything, I sat back with no way of helping you, but I knew, at some point, you would be better and you would need me.”

She whips around and shakes her head. “I don’t need you.”

“No, you don’t need me, but you want me, and that’s good enough for me.”

Kennedy dries the falling tears on her pink-hued cheeks. “Why, though? After all this time, why does it still feel like we’re linked to each other?”

“Senior prom.”

“What?”

“At Senior prom, I told you I was born to find you, and I meant every word. When you were ready, I had every intention of being close by. I may have felt far away, Ken, but I’ve been here the entire time.”

“So, I’m supposed to believe you let me fall apart, but had every intention to come back to me when I was better?”

“I didn’t let you fall apart. You needed to fall apart. There’s a difference.” I brush strands of hair from her face. “Do you think it was easy for me? I wasn’t in the best head space either, Ken. I was dealing with my father’s bullshit, and then there was you, and it was hard. It was excruciating.”

“And now?”

“Honestly? I thought I had more time, but you ran into Mark, and it all went out the window. We needed more time. We were never meant to find each other in high school. Things are screwed up enough when you’re young.”

“Graham, okay, but would you change any of it? If you could turn back time and make it so we never met until later in life, would you?” she questions my intent. “I think about it sometimes. What life would look like if we’d met in college or after.”

The idea plays in my mind for a split second before I answer. “Here’s the thing, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. You made me who I am now, and this version of me is the only one that matters because he’s the one who’s worthy of you.”

“So, this Graham, the one who volunteers in orphanages and says sweet things, is the one who’s always been in there, but never had the capacity to come out?” She challenges me and all of my past choices.

The thing is, life isn’t cut and dry. Everyone is capable of a lot of things, but when you’re young, you make choices that satisfy you most at the moment. I made too many hasty decisions in my past. Looking back, most were wrong because they didn’t benefit me in any capacity.

“I know what I want in this life, Kennedy, and it’s not to be some asshole baseball player who has a sense of entitlement. I want to be someone who puts others first, and wears his heart on his sleeve.”

Kennedy sits down on the couch tucked in the corner. Her hands glide up and down her thighs before she peers up at me. “Where was this version of you when I needed him? When the walls were closing in, I could have used this compassionate guy you seem to be now.” She covers her face as she rests her elbows on her knees.

Her words sting. In my mind, I had been that guy for her. I guess she saw differently. My hands caress her shoulders several times. When I crouch down in front of her, she peeks at me through her fingers. “You didn’t need me. I saw it in your eyes after his arraignment. You didn’t need me, Kennedy.”

When we first walk into the courtroom, my eyes search for Rebecca, but Violet says she’s opted not to show up for this part of the process. This, alone, shows Kennedy’s strength, the strength she keeps denying. She could have easily hidden away. Instead, she chooses to fight, even when she’s at her weakest. Even when life keeps pushing her down.

The whole thing seems rather cut and dry. He’s attacked two girls. Both crimes are almost identical. The jury deliberates for two hours, much longer than I expect. After hearing the verdict, we celebrate. Mr. Conrad pats me on the shoulder, and Violet and Dan pull me in for a tight hug. When I glance beside me, Kennedy’s eyes are focused on one person. Craig. He stares at her with little remorse as he watches tears stream down her face. He knows what he’s done, not only to Kennedy but also to Rebecca Kemper, as well. He’s ruined them in an irreversible way, and how they heal and rebuild themselves is up to them.

With tears in their eyes, Mr. and Mrs. Daniel hug their son goodbye. A guard escorts him through a side door, where his non-existent future awaits.

“Kennedy,” I whisper her name to get her attention.

She follows me down the walkway until Mrs. Daniel stops her. I try to step between them to guard her. Beside me, Mr. Conrad is ready for a fight.

“Kennedy …” Mrs. Daniel words catch in her throat. “I’m so sorry for what you went through at the hands of my son.” Remorse and hurt flood her eyes, but Kennedy’s face stays harsh.

“That doesn’t take it away. Maybe you should’ve been more worried about your son’s character than galas and how the outside world perceived you.” Kennedy digs at the Daniel’s social reputation. They’ve been known to throw money away by organizing some of the most influential events in the Nashville area.

“Kennedy Lucille,” Mrs. Conrad scolds. All she receives is a shrug of Kennedy’s shoulder as she pushes through our small group. Mrs. Conrad smiles a silent apology to the Daniel’s.

Kennedy stalks around the lobby, her hands on top of her head, and her chest heaving, desperate for relief. In the middle of a panic attack, she’s told me her lungs feel like they’re closing in, and nothing she does eases the pain.

Kennedy whips around. “Stop,” she screeches, putting her hand up to halt me in my tracks.

“I know you’re overwhelmed, and this is a lot for one day, but babe, he got what he deserves.”

“But what about me? What about Rebecca?” Tears cascade down her face.

I want nothing more in this world than to take her pain away, but I can’t. Her eyes darken, and what I expect to find at the news of Craig’s conviction is missing. Instead, I see nothing. She’s lost within her own walls, and no matter how hard I search, I won’t be able to find her.

“Just go, Graham. Go back to Georgia. Go play stupid baseball and leave me alone. You can’t fix this.”

Violet wraps an arm around Kennedy’s shoulders and ushers her away. I hear her cries as she leaves the building through the side door. I don’t move. This is the end. The real end. All the times before, I’ve felt a small glimmer of hope, but not now. This is different.

Mr. Conrad stands beside me with Dan flanking my other side. “She’ll come around,” Mr. Conrad offers. “But in the meantime, know you did everything you could. You’ve loved her at her weakest, Graham, and that’s not always the easiest thing to do with someone. Your actions, alone, make you a good man in my eyes.” He pats me on the back and chases after his wife.

“I know when you need me, Kennedy. I saw it in your eyes in the dance studio, but that day, that day in the courtroom lobby, I knew you didn’t.”

“I was in a bad place and pushed everyone away, Graham.” She fights back the tears. “I was standing out in a lightning storm, expecting not to get hit, and it was too late when I realized I had a metal key clutched in my fist.” Her hands tremble in front of her chest.

“It hit you too late.”

“And the result is I pushed you away.”

“You didn’t push me away. I’m here. I’ve been here.” I pound on my chest. “Now, can we please go play some air hockey?”

“You want to play air hockey?” she says through a laugh. Kennedy stands, drying her tears.

“I haven’t been around you in way too many months to count, so quite frankly, I’ll do about anything to soak up as much you as possible.” I reach for her hand and usher her into the back where the kids are playing.

“We still have a lot to talk about.” She tugs, and I glance back at her. Her sincere smile makes my heart flutter.

“We always have something to talk about, Kennedy. It’s our style.” I gesture for her to walk through the double doors where I know she’ll be greeted by tiny, smiling faces. “After you.”

Loud chatter and smiles greet us. Bridgette, a curly haired, blonde five-year-old runs up and wraps her arms around my legs. She sits on top of my tennis shoes and stares up at me with eager eyes.

“Hey, Bridgy.” I pet the top of her head.

“Hi, Mr. Graham.” Her angelic voice makes my smile grow bigger. “Are you going to play house today?”

“I owe Ben a rematch at air hockey, sweetheart.” As she goes to stand from my foot, I take her hand to steady her.

Kennedy clears her throat. She grins, then crouches down to Bridgette’s level. “I’ll play house with you if you’d like.”

The apprehension in her voice makes me want to laugh. The way Kennedy presents herself to everyone is kind and tender. There’s no way any little girl wouldn’t want to be around her.

Bridgette grabs Kennedy’s hand and drags her toward the playhouse and kitchen in the back corner. They smile and chat. Several times, Kennedy stops and eyeballs me. I wave to her once and then set out to find Ben.

Several passageways link together to connect the entire building structure, with the administrative offices in the middle. As I take the hallway to where the boys sleep, I nearly run into Betty, the unofficial house mom. She’s the one responsible for keeping this place on its feet. Without her, none of this would be possible.

I hold her at arm’s length to steady her feet. “I’m so sorry, Betty.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re here.” She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow. “You going to explain to me who the pretty girl is? Please, tell me you didn’t drag her down here to impress her.”

“That’s Kennedy,” I answer with a knowing smile. Betty and I have had plenty of conversations about my past. She’s helped me overcome some of my history as I remember it in my own mind.

 “Kennedy, like Kennedy, Kennedy?” Her smile widens, making me laugh.

With a careless shrug, I slouch against the wall. “I’m as surprised as you. She sort of snuck up on me.”

“The good ones usually do. Make sure you bring her to my office before you head out. I’d like to know the girl responsible for the man you are.”

“Can you refrain from saying things like that, please?” I beg. With a quick smile, I start down the hallway in search of my buddy.

“He’s in his room, on his bed,” Betty calls out to me. Her sad voice is a warning of what I need to be prepared for when I find him. Much like me, Ben has weaseled his way into Betty’s heart.

I nod to her in silent understanding. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Without waiting for her response, I hurry to the large room with twenty beds lining the walls and peek my head through the swinging door. Ben sits on the edge of his bed, hands on his cheeks. I know that expression. It’s his ‘nothing ever goes my way and I’ll always be alone’ face.

“What’s up, Ben?” I elbow him lightly in the side as I sit down. When he looks up, the unshed tears of a young boy who’s simply trying to figure this out well up. He doesn’t say anything.

I reach across him and grab the baseball I gave him when I first came here. No longer pristine with newness, greasy fingerprints show proof of its frequent use. When I stretch out, my feet rest on the bed beside his. Taking special care not to embarrass myself by dropping it on my face, I toss the ball in the air several times. He follows my example and I toss the ball to him and he mimics my motion. I catch it before it makes contact with his nose. I find a comfort in Ben’s presence, a comfort I hope he finds in me as well.

“I feel alone here,” Ben whispers.

“I get that. I’ve been there before.” I shift to face him.

“You were never an orphan,” Ben snaps. He sits straight up, offended by my comparison.

“No, I wasn’t an orphan,” I say, sitting up beside him. “I lived in a house with a man who didn’t love me, except with his fists, and a mother who couldn’t look past herself long enough to see a boy desperate for her protection.”

Ben turns to me with sad eyes. Tears rim his eyelids. “Really? Your dad hit you?”

Usually, I refrain from discussing tough subjects with the kids here, but Ben’s an exception. He’s wise, and has experienced things most kids haven’t.

The floor creaks, and I glance to Kennedy standing outside the door, unnoticed by Ben. Without dropping my eyes from her, I explain my past to a scared younger version of myself. “My dad did a lot more than beat me, kid. He made me believe I was nothing most days.”

“How did you get out of there, then?” Ben’s desire to know he’s not alone in this cruel world is palpable, and I’m more than willing to give him the relief he needs.

“She saved me.” I point at Kennedy leaning against the doorframe, tears swimming in her eyes as she listens to my story once again.

Ben’s eyes shift to the door. “She saved you?” he asked, disbelief written on his face.

“You don’t know this yet, but at some point, someone’s going to come along and make you believe in yourself, kid.”

“She did that for you?”

“That, and other things, like actually saving me from my father, but that’s a story for another day.”

Kennedy walks over to us and sits down on the bed beside us. She leans forward and I follow her, our eyes never dropping from each other.

“I’d do it all over again, even knowing what I know now.” Her gaze drops to my lips, and the air thickens. No words will do justice to the silence between us, so we allow the message to spill from our eyes.

Ben’s throat clears. “Do you want me to leave?”

Kennedy laughs. Uncomfortable at a seven-year-old catching me ogling a girl, I jump to my feet. This is not quite what Betty intended when she told me on my first day to be a mentor to these boys.

Kennedy brushes off imaginary dirt from her jeans and adjusts her clothing. “I’m going to wait for you downstairs, Graham. Take your time.” She bends down to Ben’s height and pokes me in the stomach. “You’ll never be alone if you have him. I would know.”

Her eyes sparkle with humor. With a wink, she stands and leaves the room. Ben sighs, his eyes trained on the door. They twinkle, and a smile lifts the corner of his lips.

I toss my arm around his bony shoulders, pull him close, and scrape my knuckles over his head, roughing up his hair. “Don’t even think about it. She’s too old for you.”

“And she’s too good for you,” Ben bites back with a playful grin. He tries to fight me off, but I tug him a little closer.

“I’ll be back this week, okay?” I nod my head to the door, where Kennedy escaped seconds ago.

He nods. “Don’t mess it up, okay?” Sometimes his personality doesn’t mesh with his age.

I stand to leave, but when I glance back, Ben’s rubbing his fingers over the baseball stitching. He offers a sad, deflated wave, and I smile in encouragement. I don’t like leaving him when he’s in this state of mind.

When I find Kennedy, she’s getting her hair braided by Bridgette and another little girl, Candice.

“Hi, ladies.” I wave at them. “She looks beautiful,” I say, admiring their handy work.

“Betty told me to tell you that she had to leave, but Julie is here, so it’s okay for you to head out whenever,” Kennedy explains before looking down at the two girls.

I roll my eyes. “She didn’t embarrass me, did she?”

Kennedy shrugs one shoulder in answer. “I’ll see you two soon, okay?” She winks down at the two girls, exchanging a silent, inside joke. The girls burst out into giggles and stare at her as if she’s hung the moon.

I know the feeling.

With my hand out, they each give me a high-five. Kennedy’s eyes gleam as she wraps her arm through mine, and tugs me to the front door. She takes care to wave over our shoulders at the young girls. Their giggles fade away when the door closes behind us.

Kennedy turns to me with obvious excitement as she dances in front of me. “So, what now?”

“You’re here until Sunday?” I question.

She nods in answer, tilting her head to the side and looking up at me through her thick eyelashes. Mark’s never mentioned their sleeping arrangements, but I assume he’s set them up at my place, even if the asshole did it behind my back.

“Let’s see what happens.” I kiss her forehead and lead her down the stairs to start our journey back to the house.

We walk hand-in-hand in comfortable silence. The cold wind whips around us, and I tug her close, wrapping my arm around her shoulders until she is perfectly tucked into my side. Her right hand slips around my back while her left rests on my abdomen. It’s as if we’ve forgotten everything about our past, and are choosing to let it be for now.

When our feet hit the pathway, thumping, loud music pours from the house.

Kennedy’s eyebrow perks up. “Isn’t it kind of early?”

“It’s never too early for these guys.” I laugh.

“Why am I not surprised? Typical Graham Black fashion, huh?” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. The motion is barely visible, but her disappointment is evident when she pushes away from me.

“Hey!” Violet shouts, frantically waving her hands in the air. “Get your asses in here.” Her carefree attitude changes when she notices the look on Kennedy’s face.

Kennedy huffs a loud grunt and stomps toward the house. “Your castle awaits you, Mr. Black,” she mutters before she hits the steps. Violet wraps an arm around her and looks over her shoulder with an understanding but sad smile.

What the hell happened between there and here?