I stayed frozen in place, just soaking her in. I needed this. The assurance that life flowed freely through her still. Kennedy would make a full recovery. She would dance and twirl with Lizzie and her students, she would laugh with Anna at her attempts to help in the kitchen. She had a full life ahead of her.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a security alert on the screen. Walker waved at the camera. I hit the button to let him in and headed for the door. I reached the front steps just as he pulled to a stop, Tuck trailing behind him in his truck.
Walker hopped out of my Range Rover as he popped the hatch. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s sleeping. Hopefully, she’ll be doing a lot of that over the next few days.”
“What did the doctor say?” Tuck asked as he climbed out of his own vehicle.
“Mild concussion. No work or strenuous activity for the next week.”
Walker pulled Kennedy’s bike out of the back of my SUV. I scowled at the thing. It had survived the wreck a hell of a lot better than Kennedy had. “You couldn’t throw that thing in a dumpster?”
Walker shook his head. “I took a look at it when I got there. She must’ve ridden through some oil. It was on her front and back tires. That’s why the brakes didn’t work.” I said nothing, just kept scowling. “I already cleaned it off. It’s good as new.”
“Doesn’t matter. She won’t be riding it.”
Walker’s brows rose, a flicker of humor passing over his expression. “She won’t be?”
My hand tightened around my phone. “No. She won’t. If she falls again, she could do serious damage to her brain.”
Tuck groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t buy her a car already.”
I hadn’t. If I thought there was any chance of her accepting it, I would’ve. But if there was one thing I’d learned about Kennedy over the past couple of months, it was that she was stubborn when it came to her beliefs. And she didn’t want a damn car. “I’ll be driving her wherever she needs to go.”
A grin stretched over Tuck’s face. “Can’t wait to hear what she thinks of that. Should we start taking bets on how long it takes for Kennedy to throw his keys in the lake?”
The laughter that escaped from Walker made me want to deck them both. “You can kiss my ass. Both of you.”
That just made them laugh harder. I waited for the words of warning. Similar to what Walker had said that first night I’d met Kennedy. But they didn’t come. Both he and Tuck kept right on wearing those shit-eating grins.
Walker did his best to get his under control. “Okay, okay. In all seriousness. What can we do to help?”
I thought about it for a minute, fought the urge to take care of everything myself. It would mean a lot to Kennedy to know that she had a whole support system behind her. I pulled out my wallet and handed a scrap of paper to Walker. “Could you get that prescription filled? Maybe pick up some ginger ale and crackers in case the meds make Kenz nauseous?”
“You got it. I think Jensen and my mom were baking her cookies, so I’ll bring those over, too.” Walker guided the bike over to the side of the house. “Don’t give in to temptation and throw this in the lake.”
The guy was a damn psychic. That was exactly what I was considering. “Fine.” I’d just hide it from sight. Maybe Kennedy would forget she ever had a bike to begin with.
Walker gave me a chin jerk as he headed for Tuck’s truck. “We’ll be back as soon as we’ve picked everything up.”
“Thank you.” Something tickled the back of my throat as I spoke. A flicker of emotion. Walker and Tuck had been through so much with me. And every time I needed them, they were there. They were my family now. “I mean it,” I said, my gaze focusing on Tuck and then Walker. “Thank you. For everything.”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever properly thanked them for what they’d done for me in college. I’d done so through my actions, always having their backs, but words were important, too. Sometimes, you needed the damn words.
Tuck cleared his throat. “Anytime. You know it.”
I nodded, watching as they climbed into the truck and headed for the gate. When the vehicle disappeared, I turned back to the house and made my way in, fighting the urge to dropkick the bicycle I could still see.
The house was quiet. Still. I walked down the hall and slowly pushed Kennedy’s door open. Chuck raised his head from the foot of her bed, standing guard over his mistress. Kennedy slept peacefully, her mouth falling open just slightly in a way that made me stifle a laugh. She was gorgeous, even banged-up and turning black and blue, she was still so beautiful, it almost stole my breath.
That vise was back, squeezing the life out of my chest. One wrong move, and I could’ve lost her today. She could’ve gone tumbling into traffic instead of that field. Too many close calls. I rubbed the space between my pecs, trying to get the pressure to ease.
I forced myself to look away from her. To leave the room. I had work to do. I headed for my bedroom, going for the safe and keying in the security code. I grabbed my laptop, but my movements stuttered. I lifted a couple of files, searching for the thing I rarely brought out anymore. My fingers hit glossy paper, and I pulled out the photo.
I wandered over to my bed on autopilot and sat. She’d been so beautiful. Gleaming, dark hair, skin that was tan from the summer, and a smile that was so very Kiara. Bright and full of life, with a hint of mischief thrown in.
My jaw clenched as my eyes burned. There were days where it seemed impossible that she wasn’t still here. Like my phone would ring at any moment, and it would be her, talking my ear off about the stray cats she was feeding behind the house, or some ridiculous girl drama at school, or the new band she’d fallen in love with. Those days, it was as if someone had punched a hole straight through my chest when I realized I’d never hear that voice again. And that hole…I didn’t think it would ever close.
I squeezed my eyes closed for a brief moment. When I opened them again, I slipped the photo into my nightstand. Locking away the memories, trying to shut off the pain. I needed to focus on the here and now. I pulled out my phone and hit Rachel’s contact.
She answered on the second ring. “Cain.”
“Hi, Rachel.”
“It’s good to hear your voice. How is everything?”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Things are fine, but I need your help on something.”
“Anything, you know that.”
A flicker of guilt swept through me. Rachel worked her ass off for me, and I wasn’t always the most appreciative. It was probably time to think about another raise. “Thank you. I need you to look into getting a health insurance policy for someone. The same one I have.”
The sound of fingers flying across a keyboard came over the line. “All right. I’ll need a full name, date of birth, and a social security number.”
“The name is Kennedy Charles. I’ll email you the birthdate and social as soon as I have it.”
There was a brief moment of silence. “The woman you brought to the gala?”
“That’s her. How long do you think it will take to get the ball rolling?”
Another beat of silence, this one longer. “Cain, are you sure that’s wise? That she’s not taking advantage of you? Those policies are expensive…”
I tightened the grip on my phone. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Rachel. I asked for your help. Can you do it, or do I need to call someone else?” The accusation had my blood heating.
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to look out for you, someone has to.”
“I’m quite capable of looking out for myself.”
“Understood. I’ll get right on this.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” I hung up without a farewell. She didn’t deserve my anger, but I couldn’t seem to hold it in. I couldn’t seem to hold anything in when it came to Kennedy. She was the one thing that could snap my carefully crafted control in a heartbeat. I let out a long breath. She was safe now, and I would do everything in my pow
er to make sure she stayed that way.
27
Kennedy
My eyes flickered open. They were gritty, as though the sandman had been extra thorough with last night’s visit. I felt as if I’d slept forever. Still, I had the vague recollection of Cain waking me throughout the night, asking me simple questions and inquiring if I needed another painkiller.
I eased onto my side, there was pain, but it wasn’t awful. The sight that greeted me was too adorable for words. Cain was reclined in an overstuffed chair, his head drooping to one side. And behind him, sleeping on the back of the chair, was Chuck, his little head resting on Cain’s shoulder. Snoring away, of course.
The laughter flew out of me before I had a chance to consider that the action might hurt. The quick flash of pain had me gasping for air. Cain shot up in his chair, making Chuck let out a little growl. “What’s wrong? What happened?” He was over to me in a flash.
I breathed through it, as shallowly as possible. The ribs were killing today, and my head wasn’t far behind. “I’m fine.”
“Would you stop saying that? You’re obviously not fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Someone’s not a morning person.” Cain only pinned me with a stare. “Okay, okay. I just laughed, and it hurt. My ribs.”
Cain pulled back the covers and, before I could protest, lifted the t-shirt I’d slept in. He hissed out a breath as he took in my side. It was an assortment of purple and blue. Shit. “I’m going to make you some breakfast, and then we are going to get some pain meds in you.”
I nodded, pulling down my shirt, desperately trying to ignore the little sparks that had danced across my skin when Cain’s knuckles had grazed the flesh there. Electricity that had nothing to do with pain. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready.”
Cain’s body gave a little jolt. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. You haven’t eaten yet. What if you get light-headed?”
I reached out and laid a hand over his. “I’ll be okay. And I need to feel human again.”
Cain’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “All right, but let me at least get you some juice first. It will get your blood sugar up.”
“Fine.”
He scowled at me. “That’s becoming my least favorite word, you know.” He headed for the door but paused, turning back to face me. “Why is my shoulder soaking wet?”
I pressed my lips together as tightly as possible to hold the laughter in. “Please don’t make me laugh.”
He looked over to the chair he’d slept in, his eyes narrowing on Chuck’s snoring form. “That damn dog has to have some sort of condition, it’s not natural to produce that much drool.”
I grinned up at Cain. “It just means he likes you.”
“Well, maybe he could like me a little less.”
“You really are an amazing cook, you know that?” I was cuddled under a million blankets on the couch as I licked a drop of cheese sauce off my finger. “I think that’s the best mac and cheese I’ve ever eaten.”
A flush crept up Cain’s neck. “I’m glad you liked it.”
I lifted the remote and pointed back at the television. “Ready for another episode?”
Cain groaned. “What is it with your obsession with Murder, She Wrote?”
My eyes narrowed in his direction. “Are you going to insult the magical and insane genius that is Angela Lansbury and a dreamy coastal town in Maine?”
“Maybe.” My eyes narrowed further, and he held up two hands. “Okay, okay. Angela Lansbury can do no wrong.” He stayed silent, studying me for a moment as I hit buttons on his fancy remote. “It’s just that it’s not a television show you think of women in their twenties connecting with.”
I paused my scrolling, tilting my head to face Cain. “When I was in fifth grade, I got pneumonia. I was out of school for six weeks and bored out of my mind. There was a station that had reruns of Murder, She Wrote on all day long, and I got hooked.”
What I didn’t share was that as soon as my brother got home from school each day, he’d race to my room and climb in on the opposite side of my bed and watch with me. It didn’t matter what my mom threatened him with, he stayed with me as much as he could. He didn’t complain about what we were watching and always played along, trying to guess the killer with me. Mom would only stand in the doorway and ask if I needed anything, while she sent our housekeeper in with soup.
I swallowed down the memories. The sweet ones were that much more painful. Knowing I’d lost that, and I’d never get it back. But I had this, this unidentified pseudo-friendship with Cain. A friendship that included some handholding and lips on my forehead and the best mac and cheese I’d ever tasted. I wasn’t going to take that for granted.
“You look a little lost in thought.”
I brought myself back to the present moment, to Cain, and smiled. “Just thinking about how I’m lucky.”
The look that flashed across Cain’s face said he thought I was just a little crazy. “Lucky?”
“Yup,” I said, popping the p.
“How so?”
I couldn’t give him everything, not my whole truth, but I could give him some of it. “That I have you in my life. Someone who will watch Murder, She Wrote with me even though he hates it, ensures I don’t faint in the shower, and makes the best mac and cheese that has ever graced these lips.”
“Well, good.” There was a gruffness to Cain’s tone, as though my gratitude made him uncomfortable.
“You need to get used to people appreciating you. You’re a good man, Cain Hale, and you’re just going to have to put up with people telling you so.”
He turned his gaze back to the laptop in front of him. “Didn’t you want to watch more of your inspiration, Angela Lansbury?”
I hit play on an episode I’d seen at least three times before. “All right, I’ll let you off the hook.” I tried to focus on the show, but my gaze kept being pulled back to Cain. He was intensely focused on the screen. His fingers would fly across the keyboard for a minute or so and then freeze, his eyes tracking back and forth, taking in whatever it was he’d done.
I cleared my throat. “Are you making progress?”
Cain’s gaze flicked to me. “For the first time since I moved here, yes. I think I finally figured out the missing piece I needed.” As he said the words, an expression that was nothing less than child-like glee filled his face.
“That’s amazing. Must be the genius that is the murder-solving Angela Lansbury rubbing off on you.”
Cain’s smile turned gentle, his eyes roaming over my face. “Or maybe you’re my good luck charm.”
28
Cain
“You’re cheating. You have to be cheating.”
Kennedy arched a single brow in my direction as she counted the brightly colored Monopoly money. “And just how would I be cheating?”
“You stole extra cash from the till when I got us drinks. Or you’re using weighted dice. I don’t know. But there’s no way you’ve won three games in a row by this much.” I glanced down at the board, my poor little shoe game piece sitting on the Boardwalk space Kennedy owned with two hotels. That move had wiped me right out. “It’s just not possible.”
Kennedy laughed and, for once, it wasn’t followed by a wince. Just a couple of days of rest and healing, and she was doing so much better. But it was that sound, given so freely, that was music to my ears. “You’re just going to have to live with the fact that I could probably run your empire better than you.”
I scowled. She wasn’t wrong. “Stealing the food right out of my mouth, I tell you.”
The color drained from Kennedy’s face, and I could’ve kicked myself. She cleared her throat, placing the money back on the couch cushion between us. “I probably got a little more bloodthirsty than I needed to.” She laughed again, but this time, it was forced. I hated the slightly jagged edges of the noise. And the absence of the lightness that I’d grown addicted to.
“Kenz.”
“Hmm?” She didn’t look up to meet my eyes.
“I know.”
“Know what?” She stayed staring at that damn game board as though it held the answer to climate change, world hunger, and everything in between.
I moved the board from the couch to the coffee table. “I know who your father is.”
“Oh.” Her voice was so damn small. Apologetic. Unsure. “I wondered when you didn’t ask any questions after the gala.”
“I wanted to give you time. That scene with your brother was intense. And I hoped you’d open up to me on your own.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “But I didn’t. So, you went looking.”
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I did.”
Kennedy let out what sounded like a cross between a growl and a sigh. “Nothing’s private anymore, is it? I’ll never get that fresh slate I want because there’s Google and YouTube, and my worst moments are just there for anyone to see. They can watch them on repeat if they want to.” She blew out a breath, sending the wisps of hair that framed her face fluttering. “But I guess I’ve bought that.”
Guilt churned in my gut. I didn’t think I’d ever had a second’s remorse for digging into someone’s past. It was how I armed myself. Protected myself. I could control almost anything when I had enough information. But this felt all sorts of wrong, to know so much about Kennedy without her permission. Things she’d rather I not know. “I’m sorry.”
She leaned back against the pillows behind her and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Why?”
“It hurts you. I never want to be the cause of your pain.”
Her gaze locked with mine and held for several seconds before she looked away, out the window at the lake. “Can we go out to the dock?”
Beautifully Broken Control Page 18
