Reminders of Him

Fuck him because he’s right.
As much as I can try to deny it, I’m not acting this way because I’m
worried Kenna will stay in town longer. I’m upset because the thought of
her leaving has me more on edge than the thought of her sticking around.
How did this happen? How did I go from absolutely loathing this
woman to feeling something else entirely? Am I that pathetic a friend to
Scotty? Am I that disloyal to Patrick and Grace?
I didn’t hire Kenna because I want her to leave. I hired her because I
like being in her presence. I hired her because I think about kissing her
again every time my head meets the pillow at night. I hired her because I’m
hoping Patrick and Grace have a change of heart, and I want to be around if
that happens.

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
KENNA
My face is on fire when I back away from the door.
I heard every word Ledger said to Roman. I even heard some of the
words he didn’t say.
I walk to the storage room and grab my bag as soon as I hear him
walking up the back steps. When he opens the door, I can’t help but wonder
what thoughts are going through his head when his eyes land on me.
Since the moment he offered me this job, I’ve been convinced it’s
because he hates me and wants me to leave town, but Roman is right. He
could pay me off and send me on my way if that’s really what he wanted.
Why am I still here?
And why is he warning Roman about me, like my intentions aren’t
good? I didn’t ask for this job. He offered it to me. That he would think I’d
use Roman to get to my daughter feels like a slap in the face, if that’s even
what he was insinuating. I’m not sure what he was insinuating, or if he was
just being oddly territorial over me.
“You ready?” Ledger asks. He flips off the lights and holds open the
back door for me. As I pass him, there’s a different kind of tension between
us. It isn’t a tension necessarily related to Diem anymore. It’s a tension that
seems to exist simply because we’re in each other’s presence.
As we head to my apartment, I feel short of air. I want to roll down the
window, but if I do, I’m worried he’ll know it’s because I can’t seem to
breathe properly in his presence.
I glance at him a couple of times, attempting to be discreet, but there’s
a new tightness to his jaw that isn’t usually there. Is he thinking about
everything Roman said to him? Is he upset because he agrees, or upset
because Roman was completely off the mark?

---

“Did you get served with the restraining order this week?” he asks.
I clear my throat to make room for the tiny no I speak out loud. “I
googled it on my phone and read that it can take about one to two weeks for
a restraining order request to process.”
I’m looking out my window when Ledger says, “You got a phone?”
“Yeah. A few days ago.”
He grabs his own phone and hands it to me. “Put in your info.”
I don’t like how bossy that seems. I don’t grab his phone. Instead, I
look at it, and then at him. “What if I don’t want you to have my number?”
He pegs me with his stare. “I’m your boss. I need a way to contact my
employees.”
I huff because I hate that he makes a valid point. I grab his phone and
text myself so I’ll have his number, too, but when I save my information, I
list myself as Nicole rather than Kenna. I don’t know who has access to his
phone. Better safe than sorry.
I set his phone back in his phone holder as he pulls into my parking
lot.
He swings open his door as soon as he kills his truck. He grabs the
table, and I try to help him, but he says, “I’ve got it. Where do you want it?”
“Do you mind taking it upstairs?”
He heads that way, and I grab a couple of chairs. By the time I make it
to my stairwell, he’s already heading back down to grab the rest of the
chairs. He steps to the side, pressing his back against the railing to make
room for me, but when I pass him, I can smell him. He smells like limes
and bad decisions.
The table is propped up next to my apartment door. I unlock my door
and then set the chairs next to the wall. I look out the window, and Ledger
is grabbing the rest of the chairs from his truck, so I glance around my
apartment to see if anything needs rectifying before he comes back up.
There’s a bra on the couch, so I cover it up with a pillow.
Ivy is at my feet meowing, and I notice her food and water bowls are
empty. I’m refilling them as Ledger taps on the door and then opens it. He
brings the chairs and then the table inside.
“Anything else?” he asks.
I set Ivy’s water bowl down in the bathroom, and she goes straight for
it. I close the door and shut her in the bathroom so she doesn’t try to escape

---

through the open front door. “No. Thanks for the help.” I walk to the door
so I can lock it after Ledger leaves, but he just stands by it, gripping the
door handle.
“What time do you get off work at the grocery store tomorrow?”
“Four.”
“Our T-ball game should end around then. I can give you a ride, but I
might be a little late.”
“It’s okay. I can walk. The weather is supposed to be nice.”
He says, “Okay,” but he lingers in the doorway for an uncomfortable
beat.
Should I tell him I overheard him?
I probably should. If there’s one thing spending five years without a
life taught me, it’s that I don’t want to waste a single second of the life I
have left being scared of confrontation. My cowardice is a big part of why
my life has turned out the way it has.
“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” I say, wrapping my arms around
myself. “But I heard your conversation with Roman.”
Ledger’s eyes flick away from my face, like that makes him
uncomfortable.
“Why did you tell him to be careful around me?”
Ledger presses his lips together in thought. His throat slowly rolls with
his swallow, but he still doesn’t say anything. He just looks torn as his face
takes on what looks like a world of pain. He leans his head against the
doorframe and looks down at his feet. “Was I wrong?” His question is
barely above a whisper, but it feels like a scream echoing inside of me.
“Would you not do anything for Diem?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. That feels like a trick question. Of
course I’d do anything for her, but not at the expense of others. I don’t think.
“That’s not a fair question.”
He locks eyes with me again, and I can feel my pulse beginning to
pound.
“Roman is my best friend,” he says. “No offense, but I barely know
you, Kenna.”
He might not know me, but he feels like the only person I know.
“I still don’t know if what happened between us the first night you
showed up at my bar was authentic, or if it was all an act to get to Diem.”

---

I rest my head against the wall and watch Ledger’s expression. He’s
looking at me with patience, and not at all with judgment. It’s like he truly
does want to know if the kiss we shared was authentic. It’s almost as if it
meant something to him.
It was authentic, but it also wasn’t.
“I didn’t know who you were until you said your name,” I admit. “I
was literally sitting on your lap when I realized you knew Scotty. Seducing
you wasn’t part of some master plan.”
He gives my answer time to sink in, and then he nods gently. “That’s
good to know.”
“Is it?” I flatten my back against the wall. “Because it doesn’t feel like
it even matters. You still don’t want me to meet my daughter. You’re still
hoping I leave town.” None of it matters.
Ledger dips his head until our eyes meet again. He’s looking at me
pointedly when he says, “There is nothing in this world that would make
me happier than you getting to meet Diem. If I knew how to change their
minds, I would do it in a heartbeat, Kenna.”
My breath shakes upon release. His confession is everything I needed
to hear. I close my eyes because I don’t want to cry and I don’t want to
watch him leave, but until this moment, I wasn’t sure if he even wanted me
in Diem’s life.
I feel the heat of his arm next to my head, and I keep my eyes closed,
but I’m sucking in small gasps of air. I can hear his breaths, and then I can
feel them on my cheek, and then my neck, as if he’s moving in on me.
I feel surrounded by him in this moment, and I’m scared if I open my
eyes, I’ll realize it’s all in my head and that he actually walked out of my
open apartment door. But then he exhales, and the warmth rolls down my
neck and shoulder. I barely crack open my eyes to find him towering over
me, his hands on either side of the wall beside my head.
He’s just hovering, like he can’t decide whether he should leave or
reenact our kiss from the night we met. Or maybe he’s just waiting on me to
make some kind of move, or decision, or mistake.
I don’t know what compels me to lift my hand and place it on his
chest, but when I do, he sighs as if that’s exactly what he wanted me to do.
But I don’t know if I’m touching his chest because I want to push him
away, or because I want to pull him closer.

---

Either way, there’s a warmth between us that builds with his sigh, and
he rests his forehead lightly against mine.
There have been so many choices and consequences and feelings
packed into the space we’ve kept between us since we met, but Ledger
pushes through all of it and presses his lips to mine.
Heat pulses through me like a heartbeat, and I sigh into his mouth. His
tongue skims my top lip, fogging my thoughts. He cradles my head and
deepens our kiss, and it’s intoxicating. His mouth is warmer than I
remember it being the first time we kissed. His hands feel more gentle; his
tongue feels less daring.
There’s a carefulness in his kiss—one I’m too afraid to dissect because
I already feel so much it’s dizzying. The warmth of him envelops me, and
just when I start to cling to him, he pulls away.
I suck in air while he studies my face. It’s as if he’s trying to get a read
on my expression, scanning me for signs of regret or desire.
I’m sure he can see both. I want his kiss, but the thought of having to
say goodbye to more than just the idea of Diem is enough to stop me from
allowing this to happen. Because the closer I grow to Ledger, both
emotionally and physically, the more I’d be putting his relationship with
Diem at risk.
As much as his kiss makes me feel, it’s nothing compared to the
heartache that would follow if the Landrys found out he’s seeing me behind
their backs. I can’t have that hanging over my head.
He starts to lean in again, making my entire body feel unstable, but I
somehow find the strength to shake my head. “Please don’t,” I whisper. “It
hurts enough already.”
Ledger pauses right before his mouth connects with mine. He draws
back and lifts his hand, gently gliding his fingertips over my jaw. “I know.
I’m sorry.”
We both fall quiet. Unmoving. I wish I was processing how to make
this work between us, but I’m processing how to not let it hurt, because it
can’t work.
He eventually pushes off the wall, stepping away from me. “I feel so
fucking . . .” He runs a hand through his hair as he searches for the right
word. “Helpless. Useless.” He walks out the door after settling on both
words. “I’m sorry,” I hear him mutter as he walks away.

---

I close my door, lock it, and then release every breath I’ve held in
tonight. My heart is pounding. The apartment seems really warm now.
I turn down the thermostat and let Ivy out of the bathroom. We curl up
on the couch together, and I grab my notebook.
Dear Scotty,
Do I owe you an apology for what just happened?
I’m not quite sure what just happened. Ledger and I
definitely had a moment, but was it a good one? A bad
one? It felt more sad than anything.
What if it happens again? I’m not sure I’m going to
be strong enough to ask him not to touch me in all the
ways we’d probably be touching each other right now if I
didn’t blurt out the words “Please don’t.”
But if we act on anything we’re feeling, he’s
eventually going to have to choose. And he won’t choose
me. I wouldn’t let him, and I’d think so much less of him
if he didn’t choose Diem.
And what’s to come of me when that happens? I’ll
not only lose my chance with Diem, but I’ll lose Ledger
too.
I’ve already lost you for good. That’s hard enough.
How many losses can one person take before they
just throw in the fucking towel, Scotty? Because it sure is
starting to feel like I’m all out of wins, here.
Love,
Kenna

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LEDGER
Diem’s arms are tight around my neck as I give her a piggyback ride across
the parking lot toward Grace’s car. The T-ball game just ended, and Diem is
making me carry her because she said her legs were soaking sore.
“I want to go to work with you,” she says.
“You can’t. Kids aren’t allowed in bars.”
“I go to your bar with you sometimes.”
“Yeah, when we’re closed,” I clarify. “That doesn’t count. We’ll be
open tonight, and it’s busy and I won’t be able to keep an eye on you.” Not
to mention, her mother who she doesn’t even know exists will be there.
“You can come work for me when you turn eighteen.”
“That’s a long, long, long time away; you’ll be dead.”
“Hey, now,” Grace says defensively. “I’m a lot older than Ledger, and
I don’t plan on being dead when you’re eighteen.”
I get Diem secured into her car seat. “How old will I be when
everybody dies?” she asks.
“Nobody knows when anyone will die,” I tell her. “But if we all live
until we’re old, we’ll all be old together.”
“How old will I be when you’re two hundred?”
“Dead old,” I say.
Her eyes grow wide, and I immediately shake my head. “We’ll all be
dead. No one lives to be two hundred.”
“My teacher is two hundred.”
“Mrs. Bradshaw is younger than me,” Grace pipes up from the front
seat. “Stop telling lies.”
Diem leans forward and whispers, “Mrs. Bradshaw really is two
hundred.”

---

“I believe you.” I kiss her on top of the head. “Good job today. Love
you.”
“I love you, too; I want to go to work with . . .” I close Diem’s door
before she finishes her sentence. I don’t normally rush them off this way,
but as we were walking through the parking lot, I received a text from
Kenna.
All it said was, 
Please come get me.
It’s not quite four yet. She said she didn’t need a ride when I asked her
yesterday, so my concern was immediately heightened when I got the text.
I’m already to my truck when Grace and Diem drive away. Patrick
couldn’t make the game today because he’s working on the jungle gym. I
was planning on going home for a couple of hours to see the progress and
help before I went to the bar, but now I’m on my way to the grocery store to
check on Kenna.
I’ll text Patrick when I get there to let him know I’m not stopping by.
We’re almost finished with the jungle gym. Diem’s birthday is coming up,
which means today was supposed to be the big day. Leah’s and my
wedding. We planned on going to Hawaii just a week after the wedding,
and I remember being stressed that we wouldn’t be back for Diem’s
birthday party.
That was another point of contention between Leah and me. She didn’t
like that Diem’s fifth birthday was almost as big a deal to me as our
honeymoon.
I’m sure Patrick and Grace would have been willing to move the
birthday party, but Leah acted like Diem’s fifth birthday was a major
conflict with our honeymoon before she even inquired about them moving
the party, and that ended up becoming one of the first of many red flags.
I gave Leah the trip to Hawaii after our breakup. I had already paid for
it, but I’m not sure if she’s still going. Hopefully she is, but it’s been three
months since we’ve even spoken. I feel like I have no clue what’s going on
in her life now. Not that I want to know. It’s strange, being involved in
every facet of another human being, and then suddenly not knowing
anything.
It’s also strange thinking you know someone but then later realizing
maybe you didn’t know them at all. I feel that with Leah, and I’m starting to

---

feel that about Kenna, but in the opposite way. With Kenna, I feel like I
judged her too poorly in the beginning. With Leah, I feel like I judged her
too favorably.
I probably should have texted Kenna to let her know I was on my way,
because I spot her walking alone on the side of the road about a quarter of a
mile away from the store. Her head is down, and she’s got both hands
gripping the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder. I pull over on the
opposite side of the road, but she doesn’t even notice my truck, so I tap on
the horn. It gets her attention. She looks both ways and then crosses the
road and climbs into my truck.
A heavy sigh emanates from her when she closes her door. She smells
like apples, just like she smelled last night in the doorway of her apartment.