Reminders of Him

I could fucking punch myself for last night.
She drops her bag between us and pulls an envelope out of it. She
shoves it at me. “I got it. The restraining order. I was served as I was
walking out of the store to put groceries into someone’s car. It was
mortifying, Ledger.”
I read over the forms, and I’m confused about how a judge even
granted it, but when I see Grady’s name, it all makes sense. He probably
vouched for Patrick and Grace and might have even embellished the truth a
little bit. He’s that type. I bet his wife is loving this. I’m surprised she didn’t
bring it up at the ball field today.
I fold it back up and stick it in her purse. “It doesn’t mean anything,” I
say, attempting to comfort her with my lie.
“It means everything. It’s a message. They want me to know they
aren’t changing their minds.” She pulls on her seat belt. Her eyes and
cheeks are red, but she isn’t crying. It looks like she’s probably cried it out
already, and I got to her in the aftermath.
I pull back onto the road feeling heavy. What I said last night about
feeling useless—it’s the most accurate term for what I am right now. I can’t
help Kenna, other than how I’m already helping her.
Patrick and Grace aren’t changing their minds, and any time I try to
approach the subject with them, they’re immediately defensive. It’s
difficult, because I agree with why they don’t want Kenna around, but I also
vehemently disagree.

---

They would cut me out of Diem’s life before they would agree to add
Kenna into it. That’s what scares me the most. If I push the subject too
much, or if they find out I’m even remotely on Kenna’s side, I’m afraid
they’ll start viewing me as a threat, the same way they view Kenna.
The worst part is, I don’t blame them for how they feel about Kenna.
The impact of her choices has been detrimental to their lives. But the
impact of their choices is becoming detrimental to her life.
Fuck. There’s no good answer. I’ve somehow immersed myself in the
depths of an impossible situation. One that doesn’t leave a single solution
that won’t lead to at least one person suffering.
“Do you want to take the night off work?” I completely understand if
she doesn’t feel up to it, but she shakes her head.
“I need the hours. I’ll be fine. It was just embarrassing, even though I
knew it was coming.”
“Yeah, but I figured Grady would have the decency to serve you at
home. It’s not like your home address isn’t at the top of the order.” I turn
right at the next light to get to the bar, but something tells me Kenna might
need an hour or so before she moves from one shift to the next. “You want a
snow cone?”
I’m not sure if that’s a stupid resolution to an issue this serious, but
snow cones are always the answer for me and Diem.
Kenna nods, and I think I might even see a hint of a smile. “Yeah. A
snow cone sounds perfect.”

---

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KENNA
I’m leaning my head against the passenger window of his truck, watching
him stride up to the snow cone stand with his tattoos and his sex appeal to
order two rainbow snow cones. Why does he have to do nice things that
make him so attractive?
I came here once with Scotty, but Scotty didn’t look out of place
ordering snow cones. We sat at a picnic table that used to be to the left of
the snow cone stand, but it’s a parking lot now, and the picnic table is
nowhere to be seen. All the seating areas have been replaced by plastic
tables with pink umbrellas.
I only texted Ledger and asked for a ride because of Amy.
She found me in the bathroom about to have a panic attack and asked
what was wrong. I couldn’t bear to tell her someone had filed a restraining
order against me. Instead, I just told her the truth. That I sometimes have
panic attacks, but that it would pass, and I was sorry, and then I pathetically
begged her not to fire me.
She looked so sad for me, but she also laughed. “Why would I fire
you? You’re the only worker I have who actually wants to work double
shifts. So you had a panic attack, big deal.” She talked me into finding a
ride home because she didn’t trust me to have to walk all that way. I didn’t
want to tell her Ledger is the only person I know in town, so I texted him,
more to reassure her that I wouldn’t be alone. It felt good to be worried
about by someone.
There’s a lot I know I need to be grateful for, and Amy is one of those
things. It’s just really hard to be grateful when there’s only one thing I want
in my life, and I feel like I’m just getting further and further from that.

---

Ledger returns to the truck with our snow cones. There are sprinkles
on mine, and I know that’s a small thing, but I make note of it. Maybe if I
acknowledge all the good things, no matter how small, they’ll add up to
make the bad thing in my life less painful.
“Do you ever bring Diem here?” I ask him.
He uses his spoon to point down the street. “The dance studio is about
a block that way,” he says. “I drop her off and Grace picks her up. She’s
hard to say no to, so I’m a regular here.” He sticks his spoon in his mouth
and then opens his wallet and pulls out a business card. There are tiny little
snow cones hole-punched around it. “Close to getting a free one,” he says,
tucking it back in his wallet.
It makes me laugh. “Impressive.” I wish I would have gone up to
order with him just so I could see him hand in his snow cone punch card.
“Banana and lemonade.” He looks over at me after taking a bite.
“That’s her favorite combination.”
I smile. “Is yellow her favorite color?”
He nods.
I stick my spoon into the yellow part of my snow cone and dig out a
bite. These little tidbits he gives me are something else I’m appreciative of.
They’re tiny parts of the whole, and maybe if he gives me enough of them,
it won’t hurt as bad when I have to leave.
I try to think about something to talk about that isn’t Diem. “What
does the house you’re building look like?”
Ledger picks up his phone and checks the time, and then puts his truck
in reverse. “I’ll take you to see it. Razi and Roman can cover us for a
while.”
I take another bite and don’t say anything, but I don’t think he realizes
what his willingness to show me his new house means to me.
The Landrys might have filed a restraining order against me, but at
least Ledger trusts me.
I have that to cling to, and I cling to it hard.
Once we’re at least fifteen miles outside of town, we turn into an area with
a big wooden entryway that says Cheshire Ridge, and then we begin to

---

make our way up a winding road. The trees cover the road like they’re
hugging it. The sides of the road are dotted with mailboxes every quarter to
half a mile.
None of the houses can be seen from the road. The mailboxes are the
only clues that people even live out here, because the trees are so dense. It’s
peaceful and secluded. I can see why he chose this area.
We come to a piece of property that’s so thick with trees you can’t
even see most of the driveway from the road. There’s a stake in the ground
where I assume the mailbox will eventually go. There are columns that look
like they’ll end up being a privacy gate someday.
“Do you have close neighbors out here?”
He shakes his head. “Not for a half mile, at least. The property is on a
ten-acre tract.”
We pull onto the property, and eventually, a house begins to take shape
through the trees. It isn’t what I expected. This house isn’t your average
large manor-style home with a peaked roof. It’s spread out and flat and
unique, built of some kind of material I don’t recognize.
I didn’t peg Ledger to want something so modern and unusual. I don’t
know why I pictured a log cabin or something more traditional. Maybe
because he mentioned he and Roman were building it, and I just expected it
to be a little less . . . complicated.
We get out of the truck, and I try to imagine Diem out here, running
around this yard, playing on the patio, roasting marshmallows in the firepit
out on the back deck.
Ledger shows me around, but I can’t grasp this type of lifestyle, not
even for my daughter. The countertops in the outdoor kitchen that overlook
the backyard are probably worth more than everything I’ve ever owned in
my entire life added up.
There are three bedrooms, but the main bedroom is the highlight for
me, with a ridiculous closet almost as big as the bedroom itself.
I admire the house and listen to him talk excitedly about everything he
and Roman have done by hand, and while it is impressive, it’s also
depressing.
This is a house my daughter will spend time in, which means it’s
likely a house I’ll never return to again. As much as I enjoy watching him
show off his space, I also don’t want to see it now that I’m here.

---

And to be honest, it kind of makes me sad to know that he won’t be
living across from Diem. I’m starting to really like him as a person, and
knowing he’s a constant in her life is comforting. But he won’t be across the
street from her when he moves out here, and it makes me wonder if that’s
going to make her sad.
The back door to the huge patio overlooking rolling hills opens up like
an accordion. He pushes it to one side, and I walk out onto the back deck.
The sun is about to set, and it’s probably one of the best views of the sunset
in this entire town. It lights up the tops of the trees below us and makes
them look like they’re on fire.
There isn’t any patio furniture yet, so I sit down on the steps and
Ledger takes a seat next to me. I haven’t said much, but he doesn’t need the
compliments. He knows how beautiful this place is. I can’t imagine what
it’s costing him to build.
“Are you rich?” It just comes out. I rub my face after I ask it and say,
“Sorry. That was rude.”
He laughs and rests his elbows on his knees. “It’s okay. The house is
cheaper than it looks. Roman and I have done most of the work by hand
over the last couple of years, but I made good investments with the money I
got from my football contract. It’s mostly gone now, but I got a business out
of it, and now a home. Can’t complain.”
I’m happy for him. At least life works out for some people.
We all have our failures, though, I suppose. I’m curious what Ledger’s
failures are. “Wait,” I say, remembering at least one thing that didn’t quite
work out for him. “Weren’t you supposed to get married this weekend?”
Ledger nods. “Two hours ago, actually.”
“Are you sad about it?”
“Of course,” he says. “I don’t regret the decision, but I am sad it didn’t
work out. I love her.”
He said love, as in present tense. I wait for him to correct himself, but
he doesn’t, and then I realize that wasn’t a mistake. He loves her still. I
guess realizing your life isn’t compatible with someone else’s doesn’t erase
the feelings that are there.
There’s a tiny flame of jealousy suddenly flickering in my chest.
“How did you propose to her?”

---

“Do we really have to talk about this?” He’s laughing, like the subject
is more awkward than sad.
“Yes. I’m nosy.”
He exhales and then says, “I asked her dad for permission first. And
then I bought her the ring she’d been not so subtle about wanting. I took her
to dinner on our second anniversary and had this big proposal planned in
the park down the street from the restaurant. Her friends and family were
there waiting, and then I got down on one knee and proposed. It was your
typical Instagram-worthy engagement.”
“Did you cry?”
“No. I was too nervous.”
“Did she?”
He cocks his head like he’s trying to think back. “I don’t think so.
Maybe a tear or two? It was dark, which I didn’t take into consideration, so
the footage of the proposal came out kind of shitty. She complained about
that the next day. That she wouldn’t have good video and I should have
proposed before the sun set.”
“She sounds fun.”
Ledger smiles. “Honestly, you’d probably like her. I keep saying
things that make her sound bad, but we had a lot of fun together. When we
were together, I didn’t think about Scotty as much. Things felt light with her
because of that.”
I look away when he says that. “Do I only remind you of him?”
Ledger says nothing in response to my question. He doesn’t want to
hurt my feelings, so he just chooses not to answer, but his silence makes me
feel like I want to flee. I start to stand up because I’m ready to leave, but as
soon as I begin to stand, he grabs my wrist and gently pulls me back down.
“Sit. Let’s stay until the sun sets.”
I sit back down, and it takes about ten minutes for the sun to sink
down into the trees. Neither of us talks. We just watch the rays disappear,
and the tips of the trees return to their natural, fireless colors. It’s dusk now,
and without electricity, the house behind us is quickly growing dark.
Ledger has a contemplative look about him when he says, “I feel
guilty.”