I wouldn’t mind catching up. Another time. I wanted to get home before the pizzas cooled off. Eli loved stringing cheese as far as he could, and I didn’t want to miss the way the kids practically tackled Kenny.
“Your number still the same?” she asked as I turned away. The tinge of hesitance was new. Laney had been a bull surrounded by bullfighters. She’d pushed and challenged until she’d made her point or the other side had given up.
“It’s different.” I’d had to change it after I got Payton out of my life and away from the boys. She’d had the random men in her life call me and pretend to be lawyers. Or just be a pain in the ass until I lost sleep or it affected work. I rattled it off.
Laney punched it in and gave me a smile that fell just shy of real. I might answer the phone just to find out what adult Laney was really like. Losing Derek had exposed the gaping hole in my life that was supposed to be filled with meaningful relationships. I wasn’t interested in dating anyone right now, but I couldn’t exactly do what my kids did on the playground—walk up to someone and say, “Do you want to be my friend?”
I made my way through the bar, using the pizzas as the plow to open a path, and calculated how fast I could get home to my kids and Kenny. I hoped Laney wasn’t looking for a hookup. I could use another friend. What I didn’t need was more drama in my life.
Chapter 2
Kennedy
* * *
Liam’s ten-day stretch was over, and he was leaving for Williston tonight. Since it was a four-day weekend, I told him I’d get the boys into bed and then Grandma Gin could take over. A little something to give her a break. Liam had invited me over for the afternoon.
I pulled off the gravel road onto the meandering driveway that cut through two pastures into his yard. Years ago, I wouldn’t have turned. I would’ve kept going until I hit the next ranch. Bruce and Willow’s place. Cool relief that I didn’t have to go there sifted through me. There, I would be Kennedy the Widow. The more I was with Liam, the more I treasured being Kenny.
Eli darted out of the big open door in the large shop and climbed the corral gates that stuck up from where they used to butt against the barn. The barn had burned down before I’d moved to town, and from what Derek had said, it was a big reason why the ranch had eventually failed.
Owen tore out of the shop and copied Eli. It was impossible to hear the engine of my little red Hyundai from inside the metal shop. They must’ve been watching for me.
Eli waved. When they wore little ball caps, they looked like identical twins. They weren’t. Eli’s hair was a shade lighter than Liam’s chestnut brown, and Owen was a dirty blond, probably what his mom’s natural hair color was. When Liam had dated her, Payton’s hair had been bleached and touched with purple. I had liked her hair. The rest of her couldn’t be improved with a bottle of dye.
I parked by the two-story farmhouse that had been majestic in its day. Now, its peeling and frayed wooden siding needed to be replaced with vinyl or steel. Liam had been debating on whether he should slap on fresh paint or foot the bill for cheap siding. The porch stairs creaked like they were going to collapse, but Liam had reinforced them. He’d kept the kids from playing on the rest of the porch until he could tear down and rebuild the whole thing. The windows were original and let in as much grit as they kept out. When the winds picked up during a dry year, little piles of dirt ended up on his windowsills inside. Liam had also mentioned replacing those.
A lot of projects and, suddenly, so little time. Part of me wanted to encourage Liam to paint and replace the windows, rebuild the deck, and maybe throw on some landscaping, open the old flower beds back up, and fix the shed in the back, all to keep him here longer. But I couldn’t be selfish. He was limited on time and money, and he had good reasons to move his kids out of Coal Haven. Logically, I understood he had more career options out of his father’s shadow and his kids could start school away from the scandal Liam’s mother had left behind. But I wanted him to stay.
“Kenny!” Eli jumped down from the top rung, stumbled enough to make me gasp, then recovered and raced across the driveway. “Guess what?” He rambled on about a new toy truck Liam had bought him, but it was hard to follow with his lisp. Rs were challenging for him too. And Ls.
Owen sidled in between us, refusing to be left out. His speech was as clear as a lecture hall professor. “And I got a monster truck. It’s called GhostStorm, and it can jump twelve feet high.”
They each took one of my hands and dragged me toward the shop. My tote bag would have to wait in the car. “Does it jump dirt piles twelve feet high?”
“No. The truck jumps.” He threw his free hand up and mimicked watching an invisible object fall.
Ah. The toy could do those jumps because Owen threw it. “What’s your dad up to?”
“Welding,” Eli answered.
“Uh-oh. What broke?”
“Nuttin’.”
Liam welded ten hours a day for twenty days straight. Why would he be welding if something wasn’t broken?
I was towed into the shop. Blinking to adjust to the dimmer light, it wasn’t hard to find Liam. Sparks flew from the far corner, where the light from the open door had the hardest time penetrating.
The torch Liam held went dark. He flipped his face shield up so it rested on top of his head. “Hey. That time already? The afternoon got away from me.”
He set his equipment on the work bench by the hunk of metal he’d been working on. He slapped his thick gloves down and took the face shield off. Then he shrugged out of his well-worn leather apron.
I blinked again, but it had nothing to do with lighting. His long-sleeved blue T-shirt with the logo of a bar and grill in Williston was plastered to his chest and back. A smattering of singe holes gathered around the collar and a few tiny ones on the sleeves where the apron didn’t reach. Liam adjusted his shoulders like he was trying to dislodge the fabric from his skin, but all the move did was make his muscles ripple.
I’d known Liam wasn’t the same lanky kid from high school, but I’d never had proof like this.
He ran a hand through his hair—same effect. Biceps bulging and rippling muscle.
My brain snapped a picture, like someday I might need to reference the type of man that could get my libido going again.
Which I wasn’t looking for. Dating wasn’t on my radar, much less…activities beyond that.
Although recently I’d been thinking… I gave myself a mental shake. My therapist said there was nothing wrong with thinking about dating someday. Nothing wrong with dating itself. Nothing wrong with not being ready. Nothing wrong with dating while still not feeling ready. I hadn’t reached that point yet.
But I didn’t have to think about it at Liam’s. “I can play with the boys if you’re working.”
“No. I need to shower and finish packing.” Eli straddled a metal chair and Liam shooed him off. “That’s not for you.”
“But it’s a chair!” Eli held his arms out like he was on a movie set and had to act like he was dying.
“Not for us.”
“You made this?” I wandered closer. There were three metal chairs. The hunk of metal on the workbench was starting to resemble the three pieces that made up the back.
Liam crossed his arms. Had his chest always been that wide? “It’s just a hobby.”
I kept my eyes on his work. It was easier than seeing his sweaty, cut body. “I knew you did a few things here and there, like our wedding gift, but these chairs aren’t quick projects.”
“I’ve been playing around for a while, when I need a break from home repairs, or when I don’t have time to start another project before I leave again. Then the buddy I rent the room from in Williston was tossing these out last year. I told him he should do some shabby chic weld-over bullshit. So he loaded them in the box of my pickup without telling me.”
The corner of my mouth kicked up. A makeover, but with welding. “And you thought, ‘What the heck? I can do a shabby chic weld-over.’”
He grinned, and it brightened the entire shed. He’d been looking at me with eyes full of concern for so long, it was nice to see it absent from his smile. “I’ve done a few projects. Want to see?”
“Can I show her, Dad?” Owen sprinted to the other corner of the shop and tugged on a heavy canvas drape. Liam stopped beside him and helped take the cover off.
Watching him with his kids never failed to cheer me up. There was the ever-present tug at my heart. Derek and I had wanted kids. Someday.
I tensed, waiting for the tsunami of emotions to double me over. But it didn’t. Being with Liam and the boys made me feel like I hadn’t missed as much as I feared. That maybe, someday, I could have something like this again.
The cache was revealed, and I put my hopes aside. Intricately welded lamp bases. Custom coatracks to hang on the wall. A sign that said Live, Laugh, Love.
“You did all this?” They weren’t rudimentary, nor were they simple designs like the sign. They were intricate work that had required a skilled hand.
“Yeah.” He shoved a hand through his hair until sections were sticking straight up. Unlike when I went without a shower for too long and my hair hung limp and lifeless, he got sexier the more rumpled his hair was.
Did I just describe Liam as sexy?
Heat tickled through my body, moving to forgotten places. It was a mere observation, nothing more. And it was hot in the shed.
“I’m just playing around,” he said sheepishly.
I squatted by the lamp. Metal curved like it was as malleable as taffy and wove together into a solid base. The metal had been brushed to give it an antique look. “William Robert Barron, this is not playing around. This is art.”
“It’s a lamp, Kenny.”
Eli bent over the sign. “Wiv, waff, wuv.”
He couldn’t read. Liam must’ve told him what it said. “Yes. Live, laugh, love.” I didn’t stress the Ls, but the teacher in me had to gently correct him. He gave me a look like he was concerned I hadn’t heard him the first time when he was standing right next to me. “Are you going to sell these?”
“Nah. Might just give ’em away as wedding gifts or something. A lot of my buddies in Williston are settling down.” His brows drew together a moment before they smoothed out. Had he thought of selling them? Was he lacking confidence about his work? Worried that he could do work like this and hold down the same demanding job in Williston through having twins and moving home and commuting, but that people would still scoff that a guy like him was worth anything more than their gossip?
“The farmers market would be a perfect place to try,” I prompted.
“The Coal Haven one is just a few booths.”
I shook my head. “It’s been really growing.” I obviously hadn’t gone last year. “Marion talks about it all the time. She buys both produce and crafts. Even Mrs. Z gushes about it.”
“She’s still teaching?”
“She’ll never retire, but she needs to. Anyway, Marion’s already saying she can’t wait to go, and I don’t think the first market is until the beginning of June.”
His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “That’s less than a couple of months away.”
“You have enough to do a one-day market. I’m sure Williston has them, but if you do one here, I could help.” Ideas whirled in my head, but I had to be careful. This would be his thing, not something for me to do to pass the time.
“No one’s gonna buy this crap.”
“It’s not crap, Daddy,” Owen chirped. “It’s art.”
“You’ve made it into something beautiful.” I rose out of my squat, tempted to run my hand over the back of the chair. How’d he get metal to look so fluid? He wasn’t a rookie welder, but these were his first pieces, meant to be as visually appealing as they were functional. “This is really good.”
“Nah, I know. I mean, thanks. It’s just… It’s Coal Haven.” He shrugged, but his concentration was on his collection of pieces. “I could use the extra cash for some of the repairs I need to do before we list the house.”
“Just something to think about. These are too good not to share.”
He was guarded about the town and how he was received, but not everyone in Coal Haven was a Barron, nor did everyone view him as the touch-on-the-wild-side high schooler. I had to believe that my friends and neighbors would not only see how high quality these pieces were but also how amazing the man behind them was. Like I did.
Liam
* * *
My boys were piled in my arms for our goodbye hug by the front door when the purr of an engine caught my attention. Had Grandma Gin decided to arrive early?
A chunk of me hated leaving for good. I’d still come back for Grandma Gin—and Kenny, of course. I’d thought of moving back, but money was an issue. I made twenty grand more a year than I would working around Coal Haven, a fact that made having to seek employment away from Cameron’s influence easier to tolerate.
The house was draining much of those extra funds that the commute and my extra rent didn’t burn. I needed to sell the place to afford Grandma Gin’s senior living condo. I’d told her I’d make payments in return for her watching the kids when I was gone. She was sorely underpaid, but her pride wouldn’t let me compensate her more. So I paid her mortgage and utilities too, and the land rent paid for her groceries. Grandpa Bob hadn’t left her with anything but a run-down house and a giant shop she didn’t need.
Kenny was in the kitchen making homemade macaroni and cheese even though I’d stocked up on enough Kraft boxes to build a replica of the barn that had once stood next to the shop.
I fucking loved Kenny’s homemade version.
Eli heard the car first and tore himself away from me to dart to the door.
Owen followed. “Who’s here?”
I straightened and looked out the window. A familiar red and white F250 lumbered to a stop in front of the house. Aw, hell.
“It’s the neighbors,” Eli lisped.
“Wait here.” I stepped outside and shut the door behind me. Bruce didn’t stop by to chat. He was always nitpicking on something. When Grandpa Bob had been alive, it’d been the cattle getting into the pasture or, worse, nibbling on his hay bales. Bruce had been critical of everything Grandpa Bob had done—from when he hayed to how long he kept the cattle in the pastures.
I didn’t want it to spill over on my kids. Now that Bruce leased the land, he found reasons to pester Grandma Gin, dragging Willow along as a pretense. Bruce already acted as if he was the only one who gave the boys a stern talking-to when they acted like the five-year-old kids they were. He probably assumed I was a crap dad, just like I assumed that he was only interested in when Grandma Gin was going to sell.
Bruce slid out of his pickup, his hard gaze on Kenny’s car.
“Is Kennedy here?” he growled, his dark brows heavy over his eyes.
“She’s watching the kids tonight.” I answered as if it wasn’t a big deal. And it wasn’t.
Bruce’s scowl deepened, and he added a frown to his expression. He had to know that I hadn’t ditched Kenny after Derek had died. I couldn’t blame Kenny if she didn’t mention how often we talked or when I stopped by. She didn’t need to take shit from Bruce.
Willow fluttered a hand by her chest. I had a hard time looking her in the eye. Her doe brown gaze was so much like Derek’s. “I don’t think she should be doing that.”
The scandal in her tone grated on my nerves. “She enjoys being around them.”
“Is that what you tell yourself to get free babysitting?” Bruce stepped closer. Before I could tell him to load the fuck back up in his pickup and drive away from my house, he hissed, “Don’t you know how hard she took not having a baby when my son died?”
I sucked in a breath. That was low. I had known they wanted kids and that mourning the lost chance with Derek was part of her grief process. Bruce had no right to wield it against me. “She’s an adult. She teaches full-time—at an elementary school. Or woul
d you rather she stay all alone in her house?”
Willow’s hand fluttered again. Derek’s parents were hopelessly old-fashioned. Willow jumped when Bruce told her how high. She deferred to him for everything, from what she made for the church potluck to their finances. “It’s not that, Liam. We all know you don’t plan on staying here. We’ve heard that Ginny is thinking of selling. Then what? You take the boys away from her after she gets attached.”
Kenny was already attached. We were all attached to each other, like a motley crew of Lego figures stuck on the same flat piece. Moving wouldn’t change that. Except how often I could stop by her house. And how often I’d have the boys with me when I did. But we could call.
A tiny fissure opened in my chest. A hint of the void that would be left behind when I moved completely out of Coal Haven.
Bruce assessed me. “What are you doing with Kenny anyway?”
I was doing more than telling her “This too shall pass” and encouraging her to give up the job she loved to “take care of herself.” The last thing Kenny did during her breakdown was take care of herself. Part of me wondered if she’d have hit bottom so hard if it hadn’t been for her well-meaning in-laws. They hadn’t held her hand to get her through; they’d smothered her.
Her mom hadn’t helped either. She’d been an enabler. An enabler to do nothing. But her motivations were a little clearer. Kenny had suffered undiagnosed Lyme disease for years before they’d learned what was going on. Her mom had learned to coddle Kenny and couldn’t unlearn it.
A “none of your business” wouldn’t do me any good. I tried to have more tact than they expected. “She’s my friend too.”
Willow tsked like I had no business calling Kenny my friend.
My temper flared. I opened my mouth, and to hell with what I said—
Make Me Whole: Oil Barrons, Book 1 Page 3
