The Choices We Make (Relentless Book 4)

by Barbara C. Doyle

  “You could pull it off,” I reply honestly.

  Her cheeks turn a rosy pink and she shoves my shoulder. “Still a sweet talker, I see.”

  I lean against the brick wall. “Just being honest, Ken. You’re about the only person I know who could pull off all those crazy colors. It works for you. I don’t think I even remember what your natural hair color is anymore.”

  She snorts. “Blonde, just like my perfect mother’s. Although hers is more of a silver blonde now, which I have to say is pretty. At least I’ll have that going for me when I’m her age.”

  “Do you guys get along any better?”

  She shrugs. “We manage.”

  I nod, putting my hands in my pockets.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “Oh, uh, home I guess. I just,” I gesture with my hand behind me, “came from Opal’s place.”

  Her eyes widen. “Yeah?”

  “It was time.”

  She presses her lips together.

  “Can I ask you something, Ken?”

  “Sure.”

  “How long was it before Noah and her …”

  She doesn’t seem to need me to finish the question, giving me a look of pity. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk? I’m craving some caffeine. Well, I always am, but I think it’ll be helpful for this conversation.”

  I cringe.

  She rolls her eyes, wrapping her elbow with mine. “It’s not that bad. I mean, okay, maybe it is for you. She was the love of your life and all that.”

  “Who says she isn’t still?”

  Opal’s words ring loudly in my head.

  Kennedy eyes me skeptically. “Get out of that fantasyland you’re living in, bud. It’s been six years. Not even you would expect some great big love to remain after no contact for that long. You wouldn’t want her waiting around for you.”

  But I had, which makes me an asshole.

  Penny Groven, a former classmate, walks by us. She winks and giggles at me, flipping her brunette hair over her shoulder.

  “Huh,” I murmur, turning to watch her disappear around the corner. “I thought Penny was gay.”

  Kennedy snickers. “She is.”

  “She winked at me.”

  She snorts. “No, she didn’t.”

  I go to argue but close my mouth in realization. “Oh.”

  She was winking at Kennedy.

  “Why would she wink at you?” I watch Kennedy wince, making me curse. “Shit. I don’t mean it like that. I just meant that she knows you’re not into her. Why bother?”

  She stays silent, causing me to peer down at her until she dares to look at me. Her greenish-hazel eyes are distant, blocking me out.

  “Hey, talk to me.”

  She steers me toward the diner at the end of Chestnut Street, which is a tiny wooden building that’s almost impossible to see since it’s wedged between the art center and laundromat.

  A bell dings when she opens the door, and I follow her silently until we’re tucked away in a corner booth. It’s not like the style of diners that you see in movies, where they wear poodle skirts and roller blades, with some popular fifties song playing in the background. This one is modern, wood counters, tables, and chairs, and black upholstered booths next to large windows lining the front of the establishment. It’s warm, friendly, and perfect for Clinton.

  Her eyes meet mine. “The rumors in high school about me weren’t necessarily rumors.”

  My eyes crinkle in thought, trying to remember any talk about her. Most of them centered around Opal and her family, as much as I hated it. But one …

  Oh.

  I lean forward, tapping her hand. “I’m not judging, Kennedy. If you’re into girls, then so be it. That’s—”

  “But I’m not!” she blurts quickly. She makes a face, her eyes scanning the jelly packets in their plastic holder off to the side. “I mean I was, but not so much anymore.”

  “Was it a phase?”

  It makes me wonder if what Ben is going through is a phase, but I don’t think it is. Ben has never expressed interest in women. Not even when we were younger.

  “I wouldn’t call bisexuality a phase.”

  My eyes widen. “So, you’re into everyone then. Cool. More options.”

  Her eyebrows bolt up. “What?”

  I shrug. “It’s not the nineteenth century anymore, Ken. People are way more accepting nowadays. I mean, there’ll always be assholes who make comments, but I’m not one of them.”

  She blinks a few times, gaping at me.

  “So, have you and Penny hooked up?”

  “What? No!” Her voice is higher than normal, and her flustered state has me chuckling. “No, we’ve never been together. I’ve only dated a few girls. None of them really ended well.”

  “Haven’t found the one yet?”

  She pauses. “I don’t know.”

  An older waitress that I don’t recognize comes over and takes our drink orders, smiling warmly at both of us before running off to get them.

  I turn to her. “Have you been looking?”

  She gives me a small smile. “Not really. A lot of people think it’s easier for bisexual people, because we’ll date guys or girls, but it’s not. It’s about the connection. And I haven’t felt one yet.”

  “Never?”

  I’m not sure how I feel about one of my best girl friends never feeling what I’ve been lucky enough to feel before. Love is an amazing feeling. The connection she refers to is like you’re linked to that other person—your souls tied together and whispering away like they know every single secret. In so many ways, you’re the same person.

  It’s an addicting feeling, one that burns when it’s gone. Like a drug addict in withdrawal, you feel like you’d rather peel your skin off than accept that you’ll never get another hit.

  “Well …” She bites her lip, glancing at the table. “I might have once. But he didn’t really notice me.”

  “Then he’s an idiot, Ken.”

  She laughs under her breath. “He is.”

  Our drinks are placed on the table, breaking our conversation. She orders a salad, and I opt to just keep my drink, not ready to try stomaching food.

  “I’ve always been a blunt person for the most part. It’s like my default mode, right? So, I’m going to give it to you straight. There’s no point in holding on to what you two had in the past, because you’re nothing alike anymore. You share memories and a kid.

  “Noah stepped in when you weren’t there, and I know that isn’t on you. But he was so good to her, Bash. She was a shell after you left. It was scary to see her roam around, but not really live. If it makes you feel better, they were just friends for years. They only started dating a little over two years ago. She friend-zoned him for a long time despite his best efforts.”

  The fact he had efforts makes me twitch, but I can’t blame him. Opal is beautiful and kind. She can lure anybody in if she gives them a second glance.

  “But she did let him in,” I prod.

  She rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee. “Of course she did. Like I said, nobody expected her to wait around for you. She wanted you to live your life just like you wanted her to live hers. Once she stopped feeling guilty, she gave him a chance. And, honestly, it was only because Roy and I pushed her. I think she’d still be alone if we hadn’t.”

  My lips weigh down. “You don’t think she would have tried to date?”

  “Honestly?” she huffs. “I think she thought she didn’t deserve anyone. She forgave you for leaving because she knew what it meant for you. But that didn’t stop her from hanging on to what little she knew about relationships. It was always just you, Bash. You were all she knew, all she talked to, all she’d been with. She was terrified.”

  I hate that. As much as hearing about her moving on from me sucks, it puts things in perspective. I want her to be happy.

  And she found happiness with Noah.

  “They’re not together anymore,” she murmurs. />
  My gaze snaps up. “Huh?”

  She fiddles with the ketchup bottle instead of looking at me. “We all knew you’d find out eventually, but Opal was planning on telling you first. That way you didn’t run into Addy the way you did. But Noah, along with the rest of this town, has it in their heads that you and Opal are going to wind up together. Mostly because of Addy. Who doesn’t love a good happily ever after, especially when kids are involved?”

  “He broke up with her?”

  “They’re on a break.” She uses air quotes when she says break, and it reminds me of all the times Kennedy, Opal, and I would watch F•R•I•E•N•D•S together after school.

  Opal and I swore we’d never be Rachel and Ross, who were rarely in sync. But somehow, we became the epitome of them.

  “She loves him, though.” The fact she never mentioned their hiatus said as much. Not that I have any right to know.

  “You could find love, too,” she presses. “I mean, you can’t tell me that you’ve been celibate all of these years. You’re a rockstar. Sex is, like, in a rocker’s blood.”

  I still, swallowing hard.

  “Oh. My. God,” she breathes. “Bash, have you not slept with anybody all this time?”

  My cheeks have the nerve to redden, like a damn thirteen-year-old boy getting the sex talk from his mother.

  “I don’t think we should talk about this,” I inform her quietly, voice gruff from keeping my tone low.

  She deadpans. “Who else are you going to talk to about this, Bash? Ian and Dylan are with their girlfriends, and who knows where Ben is. I’m seriously wondering if that dude is Batman hiding in a cave somewhere.”

  I chuckle, wondering who his Robin would be.

  “Just tell me,” she pleads impatiently. “Have you had sex?”

  “Well, duh. Got a kid, remember?”

  She smacks my arm. “I’m serious!”

  I tilt my head back and groan. I think of a way to avoid answering and realize there isn’t one. “Fine. No, I haven’t slept with anybody since Opal.”

  Her jaw slacks in shock. If she’s not careful, a bug might fly right on in. Or she could swallow my pride. Not sure which would happen first.

  She shakes out of it, leaning back and putting her hands in her lap under the table. “You turned into a monk.” She blinks a couple of times. “That takes dedication. The guys must have tried getting you laid, right? I mean, Dylan is a sex fiend, he wouldn’t just let you be all innocent on tour.”

  I snort in agreement. Dylan definitely pulled strings to get me to sleep with random chicks along the way. Groupies. Roadies. Sound techs. Fans. He practically had them lined up, but I refused.

  “If I slept with anybody, I would have felt like I was cheating. Or giving up on what I wanted to come home to.”

  “But you came home plenty of times to visit your mom, Bash,” she points out. “Why not try to initiate something then?”

  I shake my head, genuinely confused. “I don’t know, okay? Back when we came home for the summer and played that benefit to help raise money for Will’s parents’ farm, Ian tried getting me to talk to her. Hell, he went as far as going to her apartment and mentioning me. Gauging for a reaction. But he told me that he wasn’t sure how it would turn out because she seemed different.”

  I stop. Did Ian know about Addy? He’d been to her place, he would have had to see her.

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  “You think he knew.”

  My jaw ticks at the thought. “He would have said something.”

  I’m sure of it.

  Aren’t I?

  I shake my head. “No, he didn’t. He just told me to give it some time. Maybe he knew Noah was seeing her, but I can’t be sure. They were friends, but never really kept in touch after high school.”

  She nods along but looks skeptical.

  “He wouldn’t,” I emphasize.

  She puts her hands up. “Fine. Whatever.”

  I blow out an irritated breath. The waitress comes over with Kennedy’s salad, and refills her coffee. When she sees my drink is untouched, she leaves us alone again.

  “I can’t hold back. You’ve really been with nobody since then?” she inquires curiously.

  “I’ve kissed a few girls,” I admit. I honestly didn’t want to. None of them felt right. But it appeased the guys to get off my back when they called me out on moping.

  “And …”

  I roll my eyes. “And what?”

  “Any other minor action?” She points her fork to my lap. “You know, did little Everly get some much needed attention? Poor guy hasn’t seen the light in years.”

  I can’t help but chuckle over her bluntness. “He’s seen the light. I don’t keep him locked up.”

  “I’m talking about girls touching him, not your right hand,” she fires back.

  Now I’m rumbling with laughter.

  The few times that I’ve gone as far as fooling around with women sobered the moment. There were days when I missed Opal, missed the feeling of holding somebody, that I let my actions take over. I kissed women, nipped their lips, fisted their hair, touched their curves.

  And when they decided to try getting me in bed, it sent alarms sounding in my head. But I was desperate for something—an old feeling that I thought I could recreate with just anybody.

  I’d gotten hand jobs before. One of the women had even gotten on her knees for me. Anything to give me what they thought I wanted. And when I let them, I thought about an auburn-haired girl in the middle of nowhere, which made me ache for all the wrong reasons.

  I’d never gone further than that, always shutting it down out of guilt.

  “Yeah,” I murmur. “I’ve done some shit.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of,” she assures me lightly, munching down on her lunch. “Opal had Noah. You deserved someone, too.”

  My nose scrunches over the thought.

  She giggles. “Addy does that, too.” She gestures toward my nose. “It reminds Opal and I of you all the time. You two will get along really well.”

  I clench my glass of water. “You think?”

  She sets down her fork. “I do. Addy is a sweet little girl. She rarely ever gets into trouble, always listens to what she’s told, but her heart is adventurous, playful, and wild. Sound familiar?”

  My lips tip into a smile. “A little.”

  She nods once. “Did you meet her?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you guys need a mediator,” she suggests, causing my face to screw. “Not like a professional one. I’m talking about somebody who knows you, Opal, and Addy, and would make sure that everything goes smoothly.”

  I know she means herself, and has good intentions, but I can’t stop doubt from filling the cracks of my subconscious.

  Before she can call me out on it, I voice my worry. “Nobody could possibly guess if things would go smoothly, Ken. This whole thing is complicated. Opal is afraid of me getting to know Addy and then leaving. She’s right to be. I wouldn’t want to hurt that little girl, but anything could happen.”

  Leaning forward, careful not to get dressing on her shirt, she smacks her palm upside my head.

  Blinking at her, I ask, “What was that for?”

  “For being stupid,” she answers plainly. “I get what you’re saying, Bash. But all I hear is excuses on how not to make it work. It’s simple. Do you want to know your daughter or not?”

  “You know I do.”

  She shrugs. “Then it’ll happen. I can talk to Opal. I was on my way over to her place before I bumped into you. Maybe we can set a time where the four of us can go out and do something.”

  “Like what?”

  She ponders it for a moment. “Maybe it can be as easy as lunch.”

  My palms sweat over the thought. What if Addy doesn’t like me? I don’t have much experience with kids. None, in fact. I’m an only child, and none of my cousins live in the state or ever visited.

  “Hey,” she comforts, p
utting her warm hand on mine and squeezing. “Everything is going to be okay. It’ll work out just like it’s meant to. You’ll see.”

  I stare at the anomaly in front of me, mesmerized at how somebody can smack me and then comfort me all in the span of mere seconds is wrapped in one tiny frame. Kennedy has always been like this—blunt but soft. Under her hard exterior is a caring soul, ready to say anything she believes to be true.

  I twist my hand, so our palms lock, our fingers weaving together. We both stare at them, me smiling at the comfort it brings, and her with something unreadable in her eyes. Indifference? Uncertainty? Guilt?

  I squeeze her hand back before letting go.

  “I need your help, Ken,” I admit, toying with the straw in my cup. “And I appreciate you. You’ve always been an amazing friend to both Opal and me.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “And,” I add, “I never told you how amazing those pictures were at Sal’s.”

  Color splashes across her cheeks. “Yes, you did.”

  “Well, they deserve way more praise. You’ve always been good at that stuff. Art, photography. You dominated those classes in high school. Hell, you showed me up every damn project.”

  She grins, biting her lip to try to hide it. “It’s easy enough when all you drew were stick figures. Bad ones, at that.”

  “Hey, now,” I warn, laughing.

  We sit in comfortable silence.

  “Knowing you were there, at my shows, it’s nice.” I lean forward. “Want to hear something weird?” She nods. “I always felt like there was somebody out in the crowd just for me.”

  She snorts. “There were thousands of people out there for you, dummy.”

  I playfully flick her hand. “Not somebody who knew me before all that fame. Not somebody who mattered.”

  She blinks. “Do I? Matter?”

  My brows pinch. How can she ask that? “Of course you matter to me, Kennedy. We’ve been friends for years. It wasn’t just Opal I kept an eye on. Well, tried to. Clearly Roy left out some pretty big details.”

  “You what?”

  I swipe my thumb over my bottom lip. “I know you went to the local community college and studied Art History. I know you interned for Melanie Croft, a famous photographer stationed in New York City. Did you like the Big Apple?”