Chapter 28

DYLAN

M ackenzie stirs when I nudge her knee as we pull into the parking lot. She'd fallen back to sleep at around about the halfway point from the diner to here and I haven't been able to stop myself from glancing in her direction every chance I can. She looks so peaceful when she sleeps. The stress she's been going through must be exhausting for her.

"Kenz," I say, nudging her knee again. "We're here."

Her eyes flutter open and stormy blue irises stare back at me. She stretches her arms out in front of herself as she straightens and surveys her surroundings.

Her expression turns to one of discontent when she sees the giant sign that adorns the top of the building in front.

"Dylan, what the fuck." She combs her hair back from her face, her hand pausing on her forehead. Her mouth gapes open as realisation dawns on her. "Daisy and Cyrus are not people, are they?"

I can't help but chuckle at her reaction to the bold block letters that spell out the name of a place I frequent often. The Watercrest Marine Research Centre. "Not exactly."

"If you've brought me here to show me a pair of sharks, Dylan, I swear to God," she threatens, but the hint of a smile that creeps across her face hinders any intimidation.

"Not sharks," I tell her. "I learned my lesson the first time. But there are sharks here if you want to see them. Behind glass of course."

"Of course." She offers a dramatic eyeroll as she shoves open the car door.

The rain has stopped for the time being, but the ground is still wet underfoot. The sun pries its way through the clouds overhead as we walk toward the aquarium's main doors.

Jim, one of the head marine biologists rounds the front counter to meet us as we enter. "Dylan, my man! What's up?" He slaps his palm in mine and pulls me in for a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"Hey, Jim. You too," I say. "This is Mackenzie." I place my hand on the small of Mackenzie's back as she gives an awkward wave in greeting.

"Hi," Jim says. "So, what brings you two up here today? You here to see Daisy and Cyrus?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I know it's been a couple of weeks since I've been here. Busy with work and all, but I wanted to introduce Mackenzie to them, if that's okay?"

"Of course, man," he replies. "We love having you here. And you know those two. They're always up for visitors."

He lets out a laugh, lifting his baseball cap to rake a hand through his unruly hair underneath.

"Thanks, man."

"No worries. It's perfect timing actually," Jim adds.

"Feeding time?" I ask, throwing a glance Mackenzie's way.

She's playing it cool, but I have no doubt she's freaking out on the inside.

"Absolutely," he answers. "You know where everything is."

"Thanks."

I steer Mackenzie down the hallway in the direction of the supply room. In there, I gather a bucket and the feeding supplies we need to take with us to the pool out the back - a mixture of squid, prawns and crab meat.

Mackenzie doesn't speak as I move around the small room, though she does watch me with a keen interest. I look up to find her giving me serious side-eye, to which I laugh. "It's okay, Kenz. You're not the food this time."

"Ha ha." She deadpans.

I can't help but laugh again as I throw my arm around her shoulder and lead her to where Daisy and Cyrus live.

"Why are there no other people here?" she asks. "Isn't this place open to the public?"

"It is, but this is the one day of the week that it isn't."

"How do you know the staff so well. Why do they just let you in here?"

"I've been volunteering here since I left the city," I explain. "I help out with random jobs. Help keep the tanks clean and maintained."

"And with feeding time?" She aims a sceptical glance my way.

"Sometimes."

We reach the end of the hallway, stepping out into the daylight once again. I turn to gage her reaction to the large outdoor pool before us.

"Do I want to know what lurks beneath the surface?" she asks.

I snort out a laugh as I remove my shoes and step into the shallow end of the pool. "These guys are friendly, Kenz."

"You sound sure about that."

"I'm positive," I say. She watches me with uncertainty, her arms crossed guardedly over her chest as I splash the surface of the water with my right hand. "Daisy! Cyrus!"

I hear her gasp as two large, shadowy figures surface in front of us. "Holy shit," she curses. "They're massive."

I stride into the pool, the water lapping around the middle of my thighs.

"Should you really be wading into the depths of the abyss?" Her voice has become slightly higher pitched. "Like, really? Is that safe?"

"Sure. They're gentle giants." I swipe my hand over Daisy, giving her a rub, then turn back to Mackenzie. "Meet Daisy and Cyrus. The centre's largest pair of stingrays."

"Holy shit," she says again, her hands coming to her mouth. "Are they dangerous?"

"Nah, they're okay." I stumble backward a little as Daisy pushes up onto me.

At 300kgs and almost four metres long, she has slightly more power behind her than Cyrus.

"Why do they look like they're trying to smother you then," she asks, her voice full of concern.

"They're just hungry. And they love me. Don't you boy?" I laugh, gliding my hands along Cyrus's smooth sides. "Can you pass me the bucket?"

She hesitantly lifts the handle of the bucket, screwing her nose up at its contents as she peers inside. "Gross."

I laugh at her reaction as I take the bucket, dipping my hand in to retrieve a large prawn. I hold it down into the water for Daisy to find. Mackenzie startles as Daisy flaps her body around in a frenzy, trying to siphon the food from my hand.

"They have to feel around for their food because their eyes are on top of their head," I explain. "They can't see it."

I reach back into the bucket, this time pulling out a piece of squid for Cyrus. He flaps his body up and down, taking the food from my flattened palm.

Mackenzie bends down, peering closer to get a better look. "Is that why they keep flapping all over you like that? Because they're looking for food?"

"Yeah, kind of. They actually have these electrical sensors around their mouth. They're called ampullae of Lorenzini that help them sense their prey."

Mackenzie's head cocks to the side, her eyes narrowing as she raises one eyebrow. "Totally."

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. "I tend to geek out over these guys. I just think they're the coolest things."

"That seems kind of like some weird evolutionary flaw," she muses. "That they can't see what they're eating."

"Well, it seems that way, but their eyes are on top of their head so they can still see their predators when they've buried themselves in the sand on the ocean floor."

She smiles, her eyes softening, and for a moment, it makes me forget that she was ever sad. "Nerd alert," she teases.

I chuckle, flicking water up at her. "You wanna have a turn at feeding them?"

"I don't think so," she responds with a wave of her hand.

"Come on," I beckon. "Come and meet my friends."

"You know, most humans make friends with other humans."

"Yeah. Well, that sounds overrated."

"Can't argue with you there." Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth as she contemplates my invitation and then a moment later, she throws her hands up in the air and kicks off her shoes. "Okay. What the hell."

She spends a minute rolling her jeans up to her knees, then I take her hand as she lowers herself onto the step.

"Here," I say, holding the bucket out to her. "Just take a piece of squid and then hold it out in your palm. Keep your hand flat so they don't chomp your fingers."

"That's very encouraging," she says sarcastically as she dips her hand into the bucket, her face screwed up in disgust. "Which one is Daisy, and which one is Cyrus?"

"That's Daisy on your side and this is Cyrus over here."

"Okay, Daisy. Here we go." She blows out a nervous breath, plunging her hand under the water as Daisy glides smoothly toward her. She squeals as Daisy takes the food, flapping and splashing us both with water.

"She's playing with you," I say with a laugh.

"Playing with me? Are they smart?"

"Yeah. Very. And they like to play. Especially these guys because they're so used to interacting with us. They even know their names and when they're being called."

"Amazing," Mackenzie says in awe as she reaches into the bucket for a prawn. "Cyrus! Come here, boy!" Cyrus responds by siphoning the prawn straight from her hand. This time, she's game enough to reach out and run a hand along his smooth body the same way I had. "Wow. Slimy."

"Yeah," I agree with a laugh.

I watch as she surveys the water's surface, waiting for either of the stingrays to return to us, her face full of wonder. I'd hoped that I'd be able to get her out of her head for a while and I feel that I've accomplished that. At least for now.

"Hey, Daisy!" she calls out across the pool. "Can she hear me from all the way over there?"

"Yeah, they can hear us from anywhere in the pool," I explain. "But they don't need to hear us to know that we're here. They can feel us in the water. They can feel our heartbeats."

"They can not," she says in disbelief.

"They can." I nod. "They can even tell if a woman is pregnant because they can feel both heartbeats."

"That's incredible." She holds out a piece of fish as Daisy surges forward, letting out a giggle when she touches on her shins.

My breath is taken away when her gaze meets mine. I'm in complete awe of the smile that stretches across her face. It's a real smile. One that I've waited forever to see.

Then suddenly her chest rises with a ragged breath, her features falling in an uncertain frown. Like she's just remembered that she isn't supposed to be happy. That she doesn't believe she's allowed to be.

It's the same look she wore when she returned to the tavern yesterday after spending the afternoon with Grace. I'd assumed she'd let me in on what's bothering her eventually, that she'd tell me in time. But then I remember that Mackenzie is a vault, and without a little nudge, maybe she'll keep it all locked up tight.

She wipes her hands on her jeans, drying them before she tucks her hand into her pocket. She pulls out a folded piece of notepad paper, identical to the paper I'd seen her shove into the pocket of her skirt yesterday.

She inspects it quickly, then returns it to her jeans and I realise she was checking to make sure she hadn't gotten it wet. I get the feeling that this note, wherever it's come from, holds the answers she needs. Though maybe she isn't ready to hear them.

"Kenz," I say, a hint of cautiousness in my tone. "Are you okay?"

She turns to me, sadness in her eyes, her shoulders sagging as she says, "No."

She wades over to the side and flops down onto the edge of the pool, her legs still dangling in the water below. It means everything that she can be this honest with me.

I move across the step and take a seat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. As usual, she stiffens at my touch, but only for a second, before she lets out a long breath and drops her head to my shoulder. Warmth shoots through me as she nuzzles into my neck.

We sit like that for a moment, Daisy and Cyrus looping through the depths below before I finally work up the courage to ask. "Does this have anything to do with that piece of paper that's been burning a hole in your pocket since yesterday?"

She nods in response, her eyebrows pinched together in despair. I hate seeing her like this.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

She simply shakes her head, closing herself off to me.

"Okay," I tell her. "I get that, but you should tell someone though. If you can't talk to me, maybe you should try telling Daisy and Cyrus. They're great listeners. Trust me. I know."

I feel the warmth of her breath on my neck before she lifts her head. She slides her hand into her pocket and pulls out the folded paper and I notice her name scrawled across one side of it. "It's a letter. From my mother."

"Oh, Kenz."

No wonder she's been so sullen. This has to be massive for her.

"She wrote it before she died. Grace told me she came back to her when she got sick. She wrote two letters. One for her and one for me."

"My guess is that you haven't read it yet," I say.

"That would be correct."

"Did Grace tell you what her letter said?"

"Yeah. She showed it to me too." She turns the folded note in her hand. "My mother's letter to Grace was what lead her to find me. Up until she read it, Grace had no idea I even existed."

"Your mother didn't tell her about you?"

She shakes her head. "Grace said she must have had her reasons. That she was wild and rebellious. But I don't feel like any of that is a good enough excuse. I know I should be grieving her loss but I'm so angry. Not only because she left me without a mother, but she took away my chance of having a grandmother. Of having a proper family."

"I can understand that." If I was in Mackenzie's position, I'd be furious too, but this situation doesn't seem at all that black and white. "But you need to know what your letter says."

"I haven't been able to bring myself to read it. I mean, she's gone," Mackenzie turns to me, her eyes suddenly burning like blue flames. She shakes the letter in front of me in frustration. "What could she possibly have written in here that could benefit me in any way?"

"I guess that's something you can only know by reading it. And I think that if you don't read it, you're always going to wonder."

She squeezes her eyes shut. "I know. I just don't know if I have the strength. I don't know how much more I can take."

Daisy glides around the circumference of the pool, grazing its edge until she comes to stop at Mackenzie. The way she slides her body over Mackenzie's shins causes her to startle. "What's going on? What is she doing?"

"I think she can sense your sadness. Stingrays have this strange way of knowing when your emotions are heightened." I lean over and run my fingers along Daisy's fin. "Pretty cool, right?"

Mackenzie reaches down, her fingertips skating over mine before coming into contact with Daisy. "It's very cool."

"Like I said, they're great listeners." I offer a small smile when she raises her gaze to mine. "I know you're scared to read it, but if you want my opinion, I think you should at least take a look at it."

She nods. "I know. You're right. If I don't read it, I'll always wonder."

"I can go. Give you some privacy. I need to take the bucket back to the supply room anyway." I don't want to leave her, but she needs this. And something tells me, she'd like space to do it.

I lift one leg out of the water, then the other, and push myself up to stand. Then her hand is in mine. I look down, finding desperation in her stare.

"Stay," she pleads.

I nod, sitting back down beside her, then I wrap my arm around her again. She unfolds the paper gently, taking the kind of care with it you'd only give to something fragile. She swallows, then with a shaky voice she reads aloud.

To Mackenzie, my little ray of sunshine,

If you're reading this, then it means your grandmother has found you. I'm so glad for that.

I know it isn't going to be easy to put into words the way I feel about you and my constant regret for the way I left you. I was a terrible mother to you, in both my presence and my absence, and for that I'm truly sorry. The cancer that eats away at me is my karma. I know that in my soul. It's what I deserve for never being the person you needed me to be."

She drops the letter to her lap, clearing her throat. Her shoulders shake with an unsteady breath. Those words would have been harder for her to read than they are for me to hear. The pain is visible in her eyes as they slice to mine. I can tell she's contemplating whether it's worth her while to keep reading, but I nod, urging her to continue.

"The day you were born was the happiest of my life. It was also the worst. As a toddler you truly were my little ray of sunshine with those light blue eyes that could light up any room, a head full of shiny blonde curls. You were the best thing to ever happen to me. The best thing in this world.

And that is why I had to leave you.

You were pure light, and I was poison. I tried to love you in all the ways I knew how but I always managed to screw it up.

I knew something was wrong with me the day you almost drowned. Your father found you in the bathtub, the water so high it had started to seep into your nose and mouth. I've never set foot in a church in all my life, but I got on my knees that day, sending praises to the heavens that God didn't take you from me.

I prayed that I could be the kind of mother that wasn't so absorbed in her own darkness that she could leave her pride and joy in a running bathtub because she had a sudden craving for caffeine.

I promised to try harder, to be the woman you needed me to be.

But from there things only got worse.

A few days after that, I accidentally slammed your hand in the drawer, twisting your little pinkie. It killed me to see your little eyes fill with tears, staring back at me in accusation. How could I have done this to my baby?

I stopped leaving the house after the time I left you at the grocery store, tucked up in a blanket in your pram. It was though I had stepped out of my life for a moment.

As though I was pretending to be somebody else.

I got three blocks before what I'd done had truly sunken in and raced back up the hill, but by then the police had already been called.

My failure on display for all the town to see.

It got to the point where you could feel my tension. You'd stare up at me in wonder with that mass of blonde curls, your rosy lips curling up in a smile and I would just get up and leave the room because I couldn't smile back. The depression ate away at me and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I began to resent you. I'd never asked to become a mother, never entailed how much motherhood would change my life, but I always thought it would change me for the better.

Instead, it made me a monster.

It crept in like a shadow in the night, devouring my joy within its blackness.

Do I hate myself for not looking a little harder for the light? Yeah.

But this darkness was all consuming. And it didn't belong next to your light.

So, I left, unable to take the hurt, the guilt. Little did I know I'd come to experience a different kind of guilt. Guilt for leaving you. For not being there for the big moments in your life.

I'm sorry, Mackenzie. So very sorry.

Love always, Mum."

Mackenzie tightens her grip on the letter in her hand, squeezing it hard enough that it crumples in her grip. She leans forward and when I reach over to pull aside the curtain of hair that has fallen over her face, I expect to see tears, anguish.

Something.

But her expression is stoic, her mouth set in a hard, grim line. The slight flare of her nostrils the only sign that she's working hard to process this undeniably distressing information.

I tuck her hair behind her ear, and inch closer to her along the pools edge. I outstretch an arm to comfort her, but she flinches, inching away.

"Don't." She swallows hard, pushing her tears way down, and I watch as that wall that she's built herself rises steadily, brick by brick.

I want nothing more than to hold her through this moment but instead I tuck my arms away, folding them across my chest, fighting the urge to give her the comfort that she desperately needs but won't allow herself to feel.

"Talk to me, Kenz," I whisper.

She shakes her head, instead reaching forward to glide her palm along Daisy who hasn't left her side for more than a few seconds.

"You can't keep your feelings inside forever."

She pulls her feet from the pool and hoists herself up, running from the stingray enclosure. Within seconds I'm on my feet, following her down the corridor that leads out to the underwater viewing area. She stands in the centre of the dim, empty space, gazing out at the hundreds of colourful fish and reef sharks that swim by.

"I'm worried about you," I tell her.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice is low, determined not to break.

"I don't know. A reaction, I guess. Anything."

"You want me to bore you with the details of my sob story life?" she cries, her expression hard and angry. I get the feeling she's about to direct her temper at me, but if it means she's going to let something out, I'll take it. "You wanna know about how while you were driving your Ferrari out to A-list parties and flashing your corporate credit cards around, I was busy making sure that my dad always fell asleep on his side so he wouldn't drown in his own vomit? Or how I spent hours thinking up creative lies and excuses to cover the bruises after my boyfriend beat me? Hoping to God that a teacher wouldn't question me about them and he'd punish me worse?"

A lump builds in my throat, a sick feeling twisting within my gut until I start to worry I'm not going to be able to keep my breakfast down. Her words are breaking me right now, making me feel smaller, her pain crushing me from the inside out.

How can so much trauma be inflicted on one person? How is that fair?

"Or how about this?" she continues, her voice dropping lower, a calmer tone. "How about how scared I am every single day that I'm going to turn out just like one of my parents?"

I step toward her, not sure how much more I can take. But I need to hear this. Her words are important, and she needs to say them.

"You want to hear about how broken I am?" Her tears are falling harder and faster now. "I am. Okay? I'm broken. I'm lost and I don't know what to do."

"Come here," I tell her, almost demanding. Tears threaten to spill from my own eyes.

She steps forward, closing the gap between us and collapses into my arms, her body wracked with heavy sobs. Her world is crumbling down around her and with it her defences are falling too. I've waited so long for her to let me in, but this isn't the way I wanted it to happen.

"You're not broken, Kenz." I tell her. "You're beautiful. And you're the strongest person I've ever met."

"How could she do this to me?"

"I can't imagine what you're going through. I won't pretend to know what you must be feeling. But your mum had post-partum depression. This has never been about you."

Her eyes find mine, a crease deepening between her brows.

"You understand that right?"

"She could have come to me," she argues. "She could have told me all of this before she died."

"Maybe she could have," I say. "But you can't tear yourself down with questions and what ifs. Your mother loved you. And in the midst of her depression, she felt as though she was doing what was best."

"It wasn't what was best. And I don't know how I can ever forgive her."

I give into the urge to hold her, pulling her close, my t-shirt soaking up the rest of her tears. I don't know what to say. It's not my place to find answers for her and I can't take away her suffering.

All I know is that I'm the luckiest man on this earth to be the one holding her through it.