Perfect Wreckage

by Cowles, Catherine

  “You and Crosby should think about fostering.”

  My head snapped back in Ingrid’s direction. “What?”

  She laughed. “I take it you haven’t ever considered it. You should. I won’t lie, it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do, but it’s also the most rewarding. To create a safe place for a child for as long as they’re with you.”

  I swallowed against the prickling feeling at the back of my throat. A safe place. Wasn’t that exactly what Harriet had given me? And it was the greatest gift I’d ever received. One I’d never be able to repay. Not to her anyway. But perhaps I could pay it forward… I gave my head a shake. “Crosby and I aren’t together like that.”

  Each word seemed to grate against my skin like barbed wire. Because I wanted us to be together like that. But if I tried to push it, I’d be no better than Alicia, attempting to force him to be someone he wasn’t.

  Ingrid’s brows rose. “Really? I just assumed.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  She gave me a gentle smile. “It always is. Especially when they look like that.”

  A startled laugh escaped me. “You’re not wrong.”

  Ingrid eyed me thoughtfully. “There are more and more single foster parents. It used to be hard to get approved, but that isn’t the case anymore.”

  Heading into parenthood alone, even temporarily, wasn’t something I’d considered since I’d lost my little girl. When I was pregnant, and Grant had cast me off like a pair of ratty shoes, I’d been scared. Absolutely terrified to raise my baby on my own. After college and settling back on Anchor, I’d always planned to find a responsible man to share my life with. One who was steady and stable. A person who wouldn’t run, no matter what came our way.

  Maybe that plan had been a mistake. I’d already realized just how much I was missing out on by sticking to my strict and narrow path, this preconceived notion of what a safe life would look like. That no one would walk away from me if I could just be perfect. But maybe I’d missed the most important thing of all. That I had what I needed inside of me, and it had been there all along.

  “What’s the approval process like?” The question was out before I could hedge my statement.

  “Well, there are classes. Background checks, of course.”

  Ingrid kept speaking, but I started to zone out, the words going a bit fuzzy around the edges. Would my miscarriage show on my background check? My absence from college surely would. CPS would have questions. Would they wonder if I was trying to replace my baby? Was I trying to replace my little bean?

  My stomach clenched at the thought, my hand going there immediately. There was forever the feeling of a void in my womb. It ebbed and flowed. Often, I didn’t even notice it, but other times, it was a painful, vicious emptiness. But I never wanted the feeling to disappear altogether. Because I never wanted to forget my little girl.

  “Kenna? Are you all right?”

  I blinked rapidly, coming out of my spiral. “Sorry, I just got lost in my thoughts.”

  Ingrid smiled, but it was hesitant. “I know how that is. Tell you what, I’ll send you an email with some resources to check out.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

  We slipped back into casual conversation, but the whole time, I was dying inside.

  32

  Kenna

  “You’ve been in another world tonight.”

  I jolted a bit at Crosby’s words. “What?”

  He chuckled, but there was worry in his eyes. “I said that you’ve been in another world tonight.”

  “Just thinking about some things Ingrid told me.” I’d been thinking of nothing but those words and the memories they’d unleashed since we left the Wilson home. I’d barely uttered two words during dinner, and now I’d missed half of the movie we were supposed to be watching.

  Crosby hit pause on my remote. “What did she say?”

  I lifted my tea from the side table and took a sip. “She said I should think about applying to be a foster parent.”

  Crosby’s brows rose. “That’s a high compliment coming from her. Would you consider it?”

  “I don’t know that I’d get approved.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  I couldn’t read Crosby’s tone. He seemed to be holding something back. “It’s not as easy for single caregivers to get approved. Ingrid said as much.”

  Crosby picked at the label on his beer. “I see plenty of single-parent fosters come through the Alliance.”

  “Maybe. I’d have to think about it a lot before I pursued it.” Understatement of the century. I’d probably be going through a nervous breakdown or two before then, as well.

  “There’s something else.”

  My heart picked up its pace, thrumming against my ribs. “What do you mean?”

  Crosby eyed me carefully. “Some other reason you’re holding back.”

  I wanted to curse. It was as if he had radar for all my bruises and scars. He wouldn’t stop until he tended to each one. But Crosby didn’t understand that the more he pulled out my secrets, the more he was a shoulder to lean on, the harder this would be in the end. “There are lots of reasons it might not be a great idea. Or I might not be ready. Maybe it’s something I’ll do when I’m older.”

  Crosby set his beer down on the coffee table. “I thought we were past this.”

  “Past what?”

  “Your walls and half-answers. You know it all, Kenna. All my wounds and ugly truths. But you’re still holding back from me. If we can’t be honest with each other, then what are we doing?”

  My teacup rattled in the saucer as I set it down. “It’s not as easy for me as it is for you.”

  A muscle in Crosby’s cheek ticked. “I know. That’s why I haven’t pushed until now. But you were the one who wanted open and honest. You’re the one who pushed for my past on the ferry. Don’t you think I deserve the same in return?”

  “Not if you’re going to leave.” The words were out before I could stop them.

  Crosby froze for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

  I toyed with the edge of a pillow, my gaze focused on the way the individual threads wove together. “At some point, this is going to end. What we want is too different. But the more I tell you, the harder it will be when you walk away.”

  Crosby cupped my face, turning it towards him. “We might not always be this, but I’m never going to walk out of your life.”

  I stayed quiet, unsure if I could give him this. Rip open my pain for him to see. Crosby shook his head, pushing to his feet and grabbing his cell phone and wallet from the coffee table. He was almost to the door when I blurted out, “I was pregnant.”

  Crosby stilled, turning around slowly. “What?”

  I threaded my fingers together, running my thumb across the flesh of my opposite palm, digging deeper with each swipe. I focused on the rhythmic action so I wouldn’t have to look at Crosby’s face or see his reaction to my words. “The summer before I left for college, I found out I was pregnant.”

  Crosby’s footsteps sounded as he came closer, but I kept staring at my hands. “I was so scared. I thought we’d been careful. I was on the pill, had taken it religiously. But there I was, eighteen and pregnant.”

  The couch cushions shifted as Crosby sat. “What happened?”

  I dug my thumb deeper into my palm. “The fear passed. I started to get excited. Grant had always promised me forever—the baby was just a little sooner than we’d expected. I’d planned it all out. A romantic picnic on the beach. I knew he’d be freaked at first, but I really and truly thought he’d come around. I never thought he’d be cruel. He accused me of trying to trap him, of cheating on him. He told me if I kept the baby, I’d be on my own. And then he left. Went to Harvard and never looked back.”

  I looked up, meeting Crosby’s stare and refusing to look away. “You want to know why I was so scared of the Abbots fighting me? It’s because I’ve been through it before. They drowned me in e
ndless legal filings and attempted gag orders. Anything so their son wouldn’t have a kid and a teenage mother hanging over his head.”

  Crosby’s jaw was granite. I’d never seen such intensity in those light brown eyes before. “Did they win?”

  “They didn’t have to.” Tears gathered behind my eyes, burning to get free. “I lost my little girl at sixteen weeks.”

  “Kenna…”

  Crosby reached out, tried to take my hand, but I couldn’t handle his touch just then. I pushed myself farther back against the side of the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest, a wall of flesh and bone. “I’d gone to college with Caelyn and Bell. Thought I could get one semester in before I had to leave. No one but the two of them even knew I was pregnant at school. But one night, I woke up with my stomach cramping so badly, I knew something was wrong. I could feel something wet and sticky between my thighs, but I didn’t want to believe that it could be blood. That I could be losing my little girl.”

  My fingers dug into my calves as I pulled my legs even tighter against my chest. “It’s all kind of a blur after that. The girls got me to the hospital, but it was too late. She was gone, and I was hemorrhaging. I almost died. In the months after, there were days that I wished I had.”

  “Don’t say that.” Crosby’s eyes flared with a mix of pain and anger.

  “It’s my truth. You can’t change it. I’m so damn glad I pushed through, but it doesn’t change that some days, I lay in bed wishing I could just cease to exist. It destroyed something in me, Crosby. I’ll never be the same. I don’t want to be. My baby took a piece of me with her, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “God, Kenna. I’m so sorry.”

  He moved quickly then, too fast for me to fend off his comfort. In a matter of seconds, he had me lifted onto his lap as he cradled me. My first instinct was to fight it, to scramble to my feet and move away. This pain had always been mine. I’d never talked about it after those sessions with a therapist Harriet had forced me to see. But the warmth of Crosby’s body, the comfort of his arms, they called to something deep inside me, and I found I didn’t want to fight the solace of his hold. I wanted to sink into him and never come up for air.

  He held me tighter. “I can’t begin to imagine. I wish I had the right words, but everything I can think of is so damn lacking.”

  I swallowed against the burn in my throat. “This is enough.”

  Crosby simply held me, occasionally pressing his lips to my hair or rocking me back and forth. Soon, the tears were building again. This larger-than-life man was so incredibly tender under the façade of the carefree adventurer. It was that gentle tenderness that broke the dam.

  The first tear spilled over, and then the next. They came faster and faster until my body was wracked with sobs so violent, I thought Crosby might lose hold of me for sure. But he just kept hanging on. Amidst tremors and tears and ugly, snotty cries, he held me.

  “Let it out. You’ve been holding too much in for far too long. Let it all out. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  His words only made me cry harder. In my ugly, imperfect, broken mess, he was staying. People underestimated the gift of holding steady, of just being present. But I knew the truth. To stay was the greatest gift of all.

  33

  Crosby

  “Stop tiptoeing around me like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces.”

  “I’m not.” But that was exactly what I was doing. I’d been moving around Kenna’s kitchen this morning like any wrong step could send her hurtling across the point of no return. She’d broken last night. And as much as I knew that she needed to let all of that pain out, I never wanted to see the sight again. Never wanted to hold Kenna as her body convulsed against mine.

  “I’m okay, really.” Kenna took a sip of her coffee as if that would prove the point.

  I slid onto the stool next to hers and pulled her closer to me. “You don’t have to be fine, you know.”

  Kenna’s lips pressed into a firm line. “A lot has happened over the past month. It was bound to bring up some hard memories.” She looked up and met my gaze, uncertainty in her eyes. “Thank you for staying with me last night.”

  I couldn’t help the scowl that took over my features. Of course, I’d stayed. I wouldn’t have left Kenna alone in her pain. My scowl eased a bit as I realized where her statement had come from. I’d never stayed over on a night when we hadn’t had sex. Because that’s what this thing between us had always been: sex with a healthy dose of friendship and a side of bickering banter. But somewhere along the way, things had changed. Lines had blurred, and now I had no idea where we stood. But I knew that I wanted Kenna with me, that I never wanted to see that stark pain in her eyes again. I loved the feeling of curving myself around her in sleep.

  “You don’t have to thank me for that. I wanted to be here.” And the fact that I never wanted to leave had anxiety pricking my gut. I picked up my coffee and took a sip, forcing myself to breathe deeply.

  Kenna reached out and squeezed my thigh. “I want to thank you. It meant a lot.”

  “Okay, thanks received and appreciated.”

  She laughed. “Man, you really aren’t good with gratitude.”

  I set my coffee cup down. “I guess not. But feel free to compliment my sexual prowess, I have no trouble accepting that praise.”

  Kenna shook her head and took a bite of a bagel. “What’s on your agenda today?”

  “I was going to see if you wanted to go paddleboarding with me again.”

  “Don’t you have to prepare for tomorrow?”

  I was back in court at eight a.m. tomorrow, and it was Kenna’s first time being called to the witness stand. “I’ve got a few things I need to look over this afternoon, but I’m ready.” Truthfully, I didn’t want Kenna out of my sight today. She said she was fine, but I didn’t want grief to attack the moment she was alone.

  Her eyes brightened. “I’d love that.”

  “Looks like someone’s got the bug. Funny after all the shit you talked about my love of the activity.”

  That adorable pink hit her cheeks. “I’m sorry about that…”

  “Uh-huh…” I eyed Kenna for a moment and then dove for her sides, tickling the tender skin there. She shrieked and whirled, practically throwing herself from the stool.

  Kenna held out her butter knife. “Don’t you dare…”

  My lips twitched. “Who would’ve thought prim and proper Kenna was so ticklish.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You better keep that information to yourself.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t want anyone else to steal my fun.” I dove for her again, and the sound of her tear-filled laughter was music to my ears.

  * * *

  “Crosby, look.” Kenna spoke in a hushed whisper as though her voice might scare away the majestic creature just cresting out of the water.

  “He can’t hear you from here.”

  Kenna scowled in my direction. “An Orca’s hearing is actually very acute under the surface.”

  I dipped my paddle into the water, bringing me closer to Kenna. “Well, Miss Know-It-All, we’re above water.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Stop interrupting my whale watching.”

  I reached my paddle out and gave Kenna’s board the slightest little shake. She froze, holding out her arms for balance. “If you send me into this freezing water, I will give you the worst case of blue balls of your life.”

  I barked out a laugh. “You’re brutal, woman.”

  She pointed her paddle at me. “And don’t you forget it.”

  We cruised around the inlet for another hour, watching the whales farther out at sea, joking and laughing. Seeing the spark come back into Kenna’s eyes caused the tension in my chest to release a bit. She would be just fine. I, on the other hand, would have to fight not to deck Grant Abbot when I saw him in court tomorrow. That family had put Kenna through hell, and now they were doing it all over again.

  “Earth to Crosby…”r />
  I turned at Kenna’s call. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “I asked if you wanted to grab lunch at The Catch before we head home.”

  Home. The word had a battle erupting within me, a war between anxiety and joy. I loved that, in some part of her subconscious, Kenna viewed her home as mine, as well. But I didn’t want to be trapped there. I had my own house. One that sat on the bluffs of Anchor, with a killer view and everything just the way I liked it. And didn’t it make me an asshole for thinking that way? I wanted life both ways: free with zero commitments tethering me to the Earth, but I also wanted to come back to Kenna anytime I pleased.

  I cleared my throat. “I would never say no to a Guinness and fried food.”

  Kenna rolled her eyes heavenward. “It’s a miracle your cholesterol isn’t through the roof.”

  I patted my flat stomach. “Healthy as a horse. Come on, let’s head back, now I’m hungry.”

  Kenna laughed and started back towards shore. When were we about twenty-five yards away when she muttered a curse. I glanced her way. “What’s wrong?”

  She’d stopped paddling and stared at the shore. “Janet.”

  Kenna rarely, if ever, used the words Mom or Mother when talking about the woman. But why would she? From the little I knew, Janet had done nothing to earn the terms. The best thing she’d ever done for her daughter was to sign her rights away to Harriet. “Do you want me to ask her to leave?”

  “No.” The word came quickly and harshly. “I’ll deal with her. You shouldn’t have to see this mess.”

  “Life is messy. I’ve had my share. She’s not going to scare me off.”

  Kenna’s jaw worked as she stared at the figure sitting on the picnic bench. “You haven’t experienced one of Janet Morgan’s scenes.”

  There was nothing I could say to that. I’d just have to let my actions speak for me. But as we drew closer to shore, I couldn’t help but imagine a little girl whose mother’s episodes constantly embarrassed or scared her. By the time we reached the beach, I had a decent mad going. “Leave the boards here. We can get them after we deal with her.”