65. Aiyana

Chapter sixty-five

Aiyana

M y mind is whirling with the absolutely horrible turn of events that took place today. Here I thought I could have an easy day at work, get out early, have mind-blowing sex with Kas, watch a good game, and end the night with a few more orgasms, but no.

Instead, I had to watch my best friend's boyfriend get his skull smacked across the ice, and then her brother attack the guy who did it.

Kat called to let us know that Alessandro seems stable for now; they have to do a lot of imaging to rule out anything more serious, but right now, it just looks like a bad concussion. They didn't see any bleeding on his first brain scans, but they don't want to miss anything, so they'll be repeating them soon.

Kat said she'll call us when she gets more updates, but I wouldn't be surprised if she forgets. She has a lot on her plate right now, and I know she's struggling to hold it all together. Kas and I asked if we could stay with her, but Alessandro's whole family should be there soon, so she asked us to give them space.

I look over at Kas; he's sitting on the edge of the black leather couch, his head in his marred hands, still covered in crusted blood. Scooching across the couch cushions, I position myself next to him and tentatively place a hand on his back. When he doesn't flinch, I rub small circles along his spine and watch as his body slowly starts to loosen.

Several minutes go by, just like this. A heavy silence descends upon us, and my heart aches for him.

He's not a violent person by any means. He loves hockey, and he's an incredible defenseman, but he isn't overly aggressive in his plays and only puts the necessary amount of force into his movements.

"What happened out there?" I breathe, waiting for his eyes to meet mine as he slowly pulls his hands from his face to meet my gaze with his hazel ones. "That wasn't you, Kas. You were reacting to a situation. A blip in time. A horrible moment, but that wasn't you ." I stress my last words, emphasizing them so he knows what I'm referring to.

This isn't the first time I've had to drag him out of these awful feelings that come swirling through his beautiful mind. When his father shot their mother in front of him before ending his own life, it wrecked him. He blamed himself, and for the longest time, he truly believed it was his fault. He was just a child for all intents and purposes, a teenager who heard a noise and went to find out what was happening. It took him years of therapy and self-reflection to find the truth: that his father was mentally ill, and he was destined to shoot his mother whether he came out of that room or not. But for so long, Kas thought he made him do it—believed by leaving that room and confronting his father, he pulled the trigger in haste, then shot himself when he realized what he'd done.

But none of that was true.

His father was struggling. Struggling with his own demons and losing a battle that ultimately ended in his poor decisions hurting the people he should've been protecting.

I see it now. Kas's mind is playing tricks on him, spiraling him into the false belief that he had something to do with what happened to Alessandro and with how his sister is suffering. I'd bet my father's life that right now, he's considering his actions out there as a sign that he's just like his father under certain circumstances.

Kas continues staring into my eyes, his jaw tight, eyes glassy with unshed tears as he digests my words, but I can tell he doesn't believe them; they aren't sinking in.

I move closer to him, pressing my thighs to his and holding his cheeks in the palms of my hands, making him look me in the eyes and praying he'll hear me and believe me .

"Kas, you are not your father." I say the words slow and steady, allowing their meaning to hang between us, but he tries to pull back from me, his eyes clenching shut as if to block out my insinuation. "Kassian Narvaez, you listen to me," I continue when his eyes pop open at my sternness. "You aren't violent. You aren't a bearer of bad circumstances. You aren't a bad person, Kas. You're an incredible person with a heart of fucking gold, and you're the only one who doesn't see that." He tries to open his mouth to speak, but I continue, cutting him off with my next words. "What happened tonight was horrible." His eyes widen in horror, clearly thinking I'm talking about his behavior when that couldn't be further from the truth. "But absolutely none of it was your fault, Kas. You didn't do anything wrong. That guy had something to prove, and Alessandro was his target, but you? You did nothing besides defend your friend."

His chin trembles as he breaks down in front of me, his body crumpling as he lays his head in my lap and releases a long sob. "I could've fucking killed him, Aiyana, if you…" He pauses, sucking in a strained breath. "If you hadn't been there, I don't know if anyone could've gotten me off of him. I was blinded by my emotions and couldn't think straight."

Running my hands through his silky waves, trying to soothe him, I tell him, "Kas, you're the best person I know. You would've stopped." I don't say anything else. I don't need to. I don't care how many times he needs me to repeat the words; I'll say them over and over again until they sink into that thick skull of his.

"How do you know?" he asks, his voice smaller than I've ever heard it, and it chills me to my core. I remember the years after the incident that changed everything for him. He didn't speak to anyone for months. Anyone besides me, that is.

I never told Kat. I've carried a lot of guilt for that fact alone, knowing I could've eased her worry if only she'd known he was speaking to someone, even if it wasn't her. He just felt so much shame, and he begged me not to say anything. He wasn't ready to speak to anyone else, and I didn't want to push him.

"Because I know you, Kas. You. Would. Have. Stopped." I enunciate every word.

"I would've stopped," he whispers, his voice almost imperceivably quiet as he repeats my words.

I nod my head, knowing he can't see me. "You would have stopped, Kas."

We continue this several times, him quietly repeating my words until it finally seems to settle in as the truth.

We stay here for what feels like hours with his head in my lap as he presses kisses to the inside of my thigh, running his fingers over my calves as he mindlessly repeats my words until, eventually, he goes silent. Kas's taut muscles start to relax, his body finally giving in to his exhaustion, breaths becoming shallow as his chest rises and falls rhythmically. I can't bring myself to wake him, though I want to clean his wounds. I'll do it in the morning.

I manage to wiggle out from under him so I can get ready for bed, turn out the lights, and bring a blanket to join him on the couch.

When I'm ready, I curl around him, my head against his chest, and can't help the audible sigh that leaves my lungs as he curls his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Even in his sleep, he can't seem to get close enough to me.