Reminders of Him

part of her life. I mean, they feared it. We all did. I guess we just assumed
we’d have some kind of warning.”
Roman clears his throat. “I mean, to be fair, the woman gave birth to
Diem. I think that was your warning.” Roman likes to play devil’s advocate
in everything he does. It doesn’t surprise me he’s doing it now. “What’s the
plan? Are they going to let Diem meet her mother now that they know she
wants to be involved?”
“It would be too hard on Patrick and Grace if Kenna were in their
lives.”
Roman makes a face. “How’s Kenna going to take that?”
“I don’t really care how Kenna feels. No grandparent should be forced
to have to set up visitation with their son’s murderer.”
Roman raises a brow. “Murderer. That’s a bit dramatic. Her actions led
to Scotty’s death, sure. But the girl isn’t some cold-blooded murderer.” He

---

kicks a pebble across the pavement. “I always thought they were a little too
harsh on her.”
Roman didn’t know me back when Scotty died. He only knows the
story. But if he had been around five years ago to see how it affected
everyone, and he still somehow managed to say what he just said, I’d have
punched him for it.
But he’s just being Roman. Devil’s advocate. Uninformed.
“What happened when she showed up? What’d they say to her?”
“She didn’t make it that far. I intercepted her in the street and dropped
her off at her apartment. Then I told her to go back to Denver.”
Roman shoves his hands in his pockets. I watch his face, looking for
the judgment. “How long ago was this?” he asks.
“It’s been a few hours.”
“You aren’t worried about her?”
“Who? Diem?”
He shakes his head with a small laugh, like I’m not following. “I’m
talking about Kenna. Does she have family here? Friends? Or did you drop
her off alone after telling her to fuck off?”
I stand up and brush the back of my jeans. I know what he’s getting at,
but it’s not my problem. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
“Maybe you should go check on her,” he suggests.
“I’m not going to check on her.”
Roman looks disappointed. “You’re better than this.”
I can feel my pulse hammering in my throat. I don’t know if I’m more
pissed at him or at Kenna right now.
Roman takes a step closer. “She’s responsible for the accidental death
of someone she was in love with. As if that wasn’t hard enough, she went to
prison for it and was forced to give up her own child. She finally shows
back up hoping to meet her, and you do God knows what with her in your
truck, and then you prevent her from meeting her daughter, and then you
tell her to fuck off. No wonder you’ve been slamming shit around all
night.” He walks back up the steps, but before he goes inside, he turns to
me and says, “You’re the reason I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere,
Ledger. You gave me a chance when everyone else gave up on me. You
have no idea how much I look up to you for that. But it’s really hard to look

---

up to you right now. You’re acting like an asshole.” Roman walks back
inside the bar.
I stare at the door after it closes, and then I hit it. “Fuck!”
I start pacing in the alley. The more I pace, the guiltier I feel.
I’ve been unequivocally on Patrick and Grace’s side since the day I
found out what happened to Scotty, but the more seconds that pass between
Roman’s words and my next decision, the more uneasy I feel about it all.
There are two possibilities running through my head right now. The
first is that Kenna is exactly who I’ve always believed her to be, and she
showed up here selfishly, only thinking of herself and not at all thinking of
what her presence would do to Patrick and Grace, or even Diem.
The second possibility is that Kenna is a devastated, grieving mother
who simply aches for a child she desperately wants to do right by. And if
that’s the case, I don’t know that I’m okay with how I left things tonight.
What if Roman is right? What if I ripped away every ounce of hope
she had left? If so, where does that leave her? Alone in an apartment with
no future to look forward to?
Should I be worried?
Should I check on her?
I pace the alley behind the bar for several more minutes, until I finally
ask myself the question that keeps circling back around. What would Scotty
do?
Scotty always saw the best in people, even in those who I failed to
find good in at all. If he were here, I can only imagine how he would be
rationalizing all of this.