“How’s the new job treating you, baby girl?” her dad asked tentatively. It was strange being disconnected from him. They’d always been so close. She couldn’t do anything about her love life, but she could fix this.
“It’s great. I’m still learning, but I love my boss and I love the kids. I think I’ve finally found the right fit.” She smiled weakly, cringing at the formality of it all. This was her father she was talking to, not a colleague or distant acquaintance, but her daddy.
“That’s wonderful, honey,” her mother added, piling another scoop of steamed broccoli onto her plate.
“Subtle, Mom, real subtle.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetie, more fish?”
“Sure,” Kensie agreed passing her plate. There was no use arguing with Jacquelyn Roth.
“What made you take the leap?” Victor interjected, passing Jacquelyn his plate as well. For as much complaining as he’d done, he had eaten every bite.
“He did,” she muttered, and just like that, her appetite was gone. He’d pushed her toward her dream; it was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him, but now that was tainted. Was that a lie too?
As if on cue, her mother sensed the shift. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Not if you’re going to tell me you told me so,” she grumbled looking at her father. There they were, the words that had gone unspoken for a month. In her quest to find happiness, Kensie knew she needed to confront her father for the stunt he’d pulled at El Gaucho’s, but she’d been putting it off. The rest of her life was in shambles and, for a time, she needed to pretend that things were fine at home, but she was done sulking and pretending. It was time to put on her big girl panties.
“That hurts, baby girl.” Victor’s pain was evident in his voice.
“What hurt was you inviting Trey to dinner behind my back, when you knew we were broken up. It wasn’t your place to meddle.”
“My intention wasn’t to hurt you. I just didn’t want to see you throw a good relationship away for a fun one. You’ve kissed a lot of frogs and I just want you to find your prince.”
“I love you, Daddy, I do, but you don’t get to decided who’s worthy of me and who isn’t. Trey and I are done. It’s over. We will never, ever be together. And if I choose to be with the drummer of a band or an investment banker or a cashier at the Gap, that’s up to me. I get that you want what’s best, but you also have to trust that I know what that is.”
“I was just trying to help, sweetheart. You don’t have the best track record when it comes to picking these boys. First Stephan and now this…drummer,” Victor countered with a wave of his hand.
Kensie sighed at the mention of her first love’s name. Stephan Jones had been her high school boyfriend and the sole reason she chose to go to school in Southern California. He was her whole world. Smart and funny and athletic—perfect.
He’d graduated a year before Kensie and they had agreed not to let the distance come between them. He’d been offered a spot on the USC men’s basketball team and he jumped at the chance to extend his career beyond high school.
The plan had been that she’d follow him the next year. It hadn’t been her first choice, but she had yet to declare a major, and so she’d followed her heart. He had understood her. He had inspired her and he had pushed her to follow her dreams. He had been like a breath of fresh air, never succumbing to the pressures of growing up privileged. He was his own person and Kensie had been intoxicated by his sense of adventure. He did what he wanted and on his own terms. He had been her whole world, but everything changed.
Stephan became the big man on campus, the sophomore point guard who had led the once losing team to their first finals in ten years. Kensie was proud to be his girl, but she had been so caught up in their bubble that she didn’t notice the looks he got from “fans.” She didn’t notice the looks he gave the girls who wanted to be in the presence of Stephan Jones, girls who didn’t give a damn about his high school girlfriend.
It wasn’t until one of his groupies messaged her on Facebook, telling her that she was pregnant and Stephan was the father, that everything became stunningly obvious. The late practices, the away games, the long gym sessions, all a front for his infidelity.
She had been hurt and angry and she’d wanted revenge. With Jam’s help, she set up a fake Facebook profile and flirted with him. She knew him, what he liked, what he didn’t like, what turned him on, and what drove him. It was easy making him fall in love with the fake Kensie, but it backfired.
She only wanted to catch him in his lies, but the more Stephan opened up to the fake girl she created, the more obsessed Kensie became with it. She couldn’t stop, inching closer and closer to the edge with every message and I love you that her boyfriend sent to the fake profile. Then one day, he had told her that it was over. He told her that he’d found his soul mate. That was the day she fell.
After the breakup, Kensie had kept the bogus relationship going for another couple of months, pretending to be the girl of his dreams, while also nursing her broken heart.
Jam confronted her, telling her that she needed to stop, that what she was doing was unhealthy, that she had spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t listened. She was obsessed with revenge. It had consumed her. Her grades slipped. She sacrificed going out and meeting new people, all because she became obsessed with getting even with a man who never really loved her. It wasn’t until her advisor pulled her into his office and told her that if her grades didn’t improve, she’d be in jeopardy of failing.
It was the wake-up call she’d needed. She deleted the fake page, got rid of the phone she used to text him, and for added measure, she deleted her real page and swore off social media all together. From then on, she’d done her best to avoid him, to pretend like he never existed. She threw herself into her school work and books and, eventually, she moved on. She made friends and went on the occasional date, but she kept her heart guarded, until Trey, until Him.
CT reminded her so much of Stephan. She didn’t see it then, that night at the Rabbit Hole, or maybe she didn’t want to admit it, but swap out blue eyes for brown, and rockstar for basketball star and they were the same. The realization hit her like a Mack truck. That’s why she resisted him, and yet, that’s why she was drawn to him. Stephan was her first love, he took her virginity, but deep down it was never meant to last. CT, he was her true love, her other half, her forever. Where Stephan was fun, and Trey was safe, CT, like lithium, recharged her soul.
“I understand that, sweetie, I do,” her father said, pulling her back from her dark trip down memory lane, “but you can’t keep giving these boys the power to destroy you.”
“I love hard, Dad. It’s just who I am, it’s who you are. It’s in my blood.”
“Why can’t you love yourself as hard as you loved them?” her dad challenged.
Her lip quivered as she fought back the tears. “I don’t know how,” she confessed.
“Oh, baby, come here.” Her mother got up and wrapped her baby girl in her arms. “You owe yourself the same love that you give so freely.”
Kensie nodded, burying herself into her mother’s chest, shaking violently as she released her emotions into the world. For the first time in a month, she felt like she might be able to endure this hurt.
After leaving her parents’ house that evening, Kensie decided to take her own advice. She told Ryder that she wanted to see actions from CT before she would even consider moving on, but where were her actions? So far, all she’d done was get dressed, put on a little makeup, and ugly cry in her mother’s arms. It was a start, but she still had work to do.
Why can’t you love yourself as hard as you love them? Why couldn’t she love herself? Why couldn’t she put as much effort into making herself happy as she did in making those around her happy? Outside of work, she didn’t even know where to look for happiness.
Three hours and half a bottle of wine later, Kensie was sprawled out on the floor,
staring down at a blank page. “What do you want?” she said into the quiet abyss of her bedroom. A loaded question. She wanted to live life on her own terms. She wanted to step outside of her privileged bubble and push herself to be a better person. A philanthropic sentiment, perhaps a little cliché, but at its core, it was honest. The problem was, how?
It took another hour and the rest of the wine, but eventually she found an answer to that question, The List. It started as a way to organize her thoughts, to narrow her focus, but it ended up being her blueprint.
At the top of the page, she wrote, What do YOU want? From there, she let her heart do the talking, no matter how monumental or mundane, if she wanted it, she wrote it.
The next morning, Kensie awoke with a newfound sense of determination. It wasn’t peace, but it wasn’t the war that raged inside her body for the past month either.
On her way to work, she stopped at the donut shop she’d heard Tanner raving about last week. Now that she had a plan, she needed a place to start and in order to do that, she needed Tanner. If she learned nothing else growing up around politicians, it was that a little bribery could get you a long way.
“Tanner, this month has been amazing and I’m really grateful for the opportunity, but… No, Jesus, Roth, do you want him to think you’re quitting?” She sighed, shuffling the boxes of donuts and coffee traveler so she could push her car door closed with her hip. “Tanner, Safe Haven is great, but the boys aren’t being stimulated enough…” No, too aggressive, she thought as she made her way to the house. Thankfully the boys were still asleep. The quiet gave her time to quell the anxiety that boiled in her belly. She was the new girl, barely out of training, and in no position to make demands, but her gut, the same gut that threatened to expel the donut she’d eaten on the drive in, told her she was doing the right thing.
“Good morning, Kensie,” Tanner greeted from the other side of the breakfast bar. “You’re here early.” Kind blue eyes assessed her. “Looks like you had a good weekend.”
“Oh, hi,” she blurted out in surprise. She grabbed the maple bacon bar she set aside and offered it to him with shaky hands. “Good morning, I got breakfast, and yes, it was…cathartic.”
“Cryptic.” He grinned, biting into the fried dough. “I’m going to throw my stuff in the office and check in with James and Zoe. Can you start waking everybody up?”
“Sure, but…um, do you have a minute?”
He glanced at his watch. “I can give you two.”
Kensie smiled, then exhaled, steeling her nerves. “I really love working here.”
“We love having you.”
“Thank you, but—”
“But?” Tanner arched his brow.
“No but, I mean, there is a small but, like more of a b than a full but.”
“Okay?” He nodded, taking another bite of her sugary bribe.
“I want to start an art program,” she blurted out, throwing the carefully crafted speech she prepared out the proverbial window.
Tanner walked around the breakfast bar and into the kitchen, his eyes giving away nothing. After snagging a disposable cup from the stack, he poured himself some coffee. “Sounds expensive,” he said from behind his coffee cup. His face was stoic. She knew it was a long shot, but she wasn’t going to back down without a fight.
Make a difference.
Make a fucking difference.
“Probably.” Smooth, Kensington, real smooth. “I mean, I’ve thought of that. I know we don’t have the resources, but we can do fundraisers—my mother’s friends live for fundraisers. I can take care of securing funding. I just think the kids would benefit from having a creative outlet to channel their anger.” The words tumbled from her mouth in a rush.
Seconds ticked by and Kensie became less and less sure of herself. The rational side of her brain knew she’d gone above and beyond. She’d done everything that was asked of her and then some, but the irrational side of her brain poked at her insecurities. It told her she’d never be more than a spoiled rich kid living off her trust fund.
“I agree,” he said finally. A mischievous grin overtook his features. “You’ve done a great job so far, as long as you can secure the funding, I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“I promise, I won’t let you down.” Kensie grinned, and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over.
“Go,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, “wake up the boys, stuff them full of sugar, and send them off to school.”
After work, Kensie went home with the intention of ordering Chinese takeout, sitting down with her laptop, and working on phase two of Operation: Do What Makes You Happy, but the smell of bacon wafting through the foyer, derailed that plan.
Fuck.
They weren’t supposed to be here. The guys were leaving for their tour tomorrow, and Jamie and Ryder were supposed to be at the house, screwing each other’s brains out.
Kensie counted to ten, mentally preparing for another face-to-face with Ryder. She used to love that she and Jam were dating best friends, but she never factored in a breakup.
“What are you—” she started, but quickly snapped her mouth shut. Her heart sank, or, maybe it floated. She didn’t know. She couldn’t express her feelings. She was just trying not to cry, or yell, or cuss, or kiss. God, she missed his lips.
CT stood in her kitchen like he had many times before, but this time was different. This time, with her pink ruffled apron covering his white tank top, black skinny jeans, and a backwards Lithium hat sitting on his head. She wanted him gone, him and his stupid, handsome face, and his annoyingly perfect body. Fuck him. Fucking, Fuckface.
“I’m making dinner, well breakfast, but it’s dinnertime, so.” He shrugged. He shrugged! Like it wasn’t the first time they’d seen each other in five weeks. Like it was no biggie.
His eyes met hers before briefly scanning her body. It wasn’t sexual—though the air crackled between them like it always had—but the look on his face was one of concern. It made her want to scream, YES, I LOST WEIGHT! You broke my fucking heart. What did you expect? But she didn’t, instead, she calmly asked, “How did you get in?”
The concern transformed to mischief as he reached into his pocket and plucked out a familiar pair of keys and dangled them in the air. “I unlocked the door,” he deadpanned.
“Does Jam know you have those?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture, only partly due to anger, but mostly to help muffle the frantic thudding sounds her heart was making.
“I would have asked, but she was kind of busy, if you know what I mean.” He smirked, pocketing the keys before turning his attention back to the pineapple he was cutting.
“You need to leave, now. Like right now, like five minutes ago, now.” She’d finally clawed her way back from the depression he’d left her in and now he was here, making breakfast for dinner.
“No.”
“Now, CT, seriously.”
“I’m CT again?” he asked over his shoulder. He kept chopping, slowly, methodically, and seemingly without a care in the world.
“Or Fuckface,” she seethed. Under normal circumstances she would have commented on his improved knife skills, but this wasn’t normal or nice or romantic. “You can take your pick.”
“CT it is,” he chuckled.
“Get. Out,” she gritted.
“I gave you five weeks. I didn’t come and break down your fucking door when you blocked me. I’m not going to drag you kicking and screaming on tour with me, although the thought has crossed my mind,” he said, pointing the knife in her direction, “more than once.”
“I’m really flattered, but I can’t do this with you right now. Please, just leave.”
“Baby, I’m leaving tomorrow—for three months—I’m not going anywhere. Now, go change out of your work clothes.”
“I’ll call the police,” she said switching tactics. Why? Why? Why was he doing this? She was finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel a
nd BAM, just like that, he bulldozed his way back into her life.
“Go right ahead,” he challenged, taking a step towards her.
“FINE!” she yelled, throwing her hands up in defeat. She could barely breathe with him in her apartment, she’d surely suffocate if he touched her. “I should call your fucking parole officer,” she mumbled as she stomped away.
“I heard that, and I’m not on parole, asshole.”
Kensie slammed the door to her bedroom, locking it behind her for good measure. Nervous energy coursed through her bloodstream. Her palms were sweating and her heart beat erratically. She felt like she was going to throw up. Her anxiety was back and the cause and cure was standing in her kitchen, making her dinner—or breakfast. Whatever.
Kensie flopped on her bed with a huff. Her mind was racing, trying to think of something, anything, to get him to leave. Of course, she missed him, she was still in love with him, but that was the problem. She loved him with everything she had and it wasn’t enough. Their entire relationship was based on a deceitful game. All her happy memories were tainted.
Her head was at war with her heart. Her brain shouted that this was too little, too late, but her heart—the traitor—prepared for a fight. It warned her that it wouldn’t be pretty or easy, but it would be worth it. Do something that makes you uncomfortable, her heart chided. They were her words, her wishes, and now she fucking hated herself for being so damn philosophical.
Kensie groaned, knowing that she couldn’t run away. Not now. Not when he was leaving tomorrow. Not when she had questions that only he could answer. Questions that ate away at her. Questions that she may never get another chance to ask. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? Who knew what would happen after the tour? The only thing that was certain was that he was here now.
She peeled herself off the bed and stripped out of her business casual attire, slipping into an old, extra-large t-shirt that she’d stolen from her dad. She usually reserved this shirt for sleeping in when she was sick. Then she riffled through her drawer in search of the baggiest pair of sweats she owned. Once she was dressed, she pulled her hair into a messy ponytail on the side of her head and washed off all her makeup.
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