Kendrick
I lit a cigarette and leaned against the balcony railing, staring at the dark, restless ocean. The tide rolled in like it always did, relentless, pounding the shore with its usual fury, its pull as familiar as the ache I couldn’t seem to shake.
Kimberly was the tide, constant, unstoppable, and no matter how much distance I tried to put between us, she kept dragging me back.
I hated her for it.
I hated myself more.
The breeze off the water stung my face, sharp and cold like the words I’d thrown at her earlier. She’d stood there, shoulders squared, refusing to break even when I wanted her to.
Needed her to.
It would’ve been easier if she’d cried, if she’d screamed, if she’d fought back. Instead, she just looked at me with those dark, defiant eyes daring me to be better, kn
