Make Me Whole: Oil Barrons, Book 1

by Marie Johnston

  “Kennedy Lillian Barron. Outside?” She rolled her eyes, but I nudged her with an elbow and pressed on. “Does your mother know?”

  In high school, anything more than yoga and gentle stretching had made her mother fret about her joints and nerve pain.

  “She surprised me with a visit yesterday. Her and Benji.”

  As if yesterday hadn’t been hard enough to deal with for her. “How’d that go?”

  “I napped. She cooked. Benji couldn’t find anything to fix, so he went to the basement and swept and dusted.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  “Yeah. Overall, it was a nice visit.”

  I heard the sigh that she didn’t let out. “But?”

  Her mouth quirked as she rolled her eyes to me. “But… I wish she’d come and visit just because. I wish she’d quit treating me like I’ll break.”

  “She worried about you for so long, she probably doesn’t know how not to. Hard not to take it personally though.”

  “I didn’t tell either of them I plan to replace the kitchen and bathroom floor.” She sounded like that information would make them think she was loading what possessions she could fit into her car and going to join the circus.

  I winced. She might prefer to join the circus once she saw how much more work some home renovations made. “If you mess up with the bathroom floor, you might as well install a new toilet. Remember when I had to do that in my house?”

  Her grimace was adorable. “I might need help with that.”

  “I have no problem watching you work.” The playful grin I shot her brought her flush back. Laughter sputtered out of her, and I chuckled. I was now free to think about the day she’d been tucked under her sink with her ass sticking out, but if I continued to do so, I wouldn’t be able to stand. I wasn’t going to sport an erection at the park. “The boys are going to ask what’s for lunch in five minutes. Want to grab a bite with us?”

  Her expression grew solemn. “I don’t want to intrude on your day with the kids before you go.”

  Was she kidding? I enjoyed seeing her with my kids. “I want you to. They want you to. Do you want to?”

  The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Yeah. I do.”

  Triumph beat through me—not because she was joining us only for lunch, but for the entire damn day. “Then I know the perfect little diner.”

  She chuckled. “Hmmm. That must be the only little diner in town. I love their fries.”

  I relaxed for the first time in days. I hadn’t epically fucked up. Kenny said she wanted to be a part of something again. In her own time, she’d realize that she always had a place with me and the kids.

  Chapter 9

  Kennedy

  * * *

  I banged out of Liam’s house behind the boys. He’d returned only yesterday, and the first farmers market was tonight. We’d kept in touch the weeks he was gone, but my days had been blessedly busy. I had summer school in the morning. A couple afternoons a week, I took Eli to his therapy and read books to Owen in the waiting room or took him on a walk on the bike path beside the center.

  At night, I ripped up old laminate. It was sweaty, dirty work. Between my home improvement project and the walks I took in the morning before work or with Owen, my muscles were peeking out where I hadn’t seen them in, really, ever.

  I’d been looking forward to mowing my lawn, but Bruce had done it while I was teaching one morning. I’d asked him not to again, tacked on that I liked lawn care and the smell of freshly cut grass.

  He’d done it anyway. Claimed that since I was working now, he wanted to make sure I didn’t have additional stress. Sweet, but frustrating.

  He didn’t realize that being in my yard decompressed the stress. One of the local pastors and her husband next door chatted across the fence with me if we were outside at the same time. The elderly couple on the other side weren’t moving around as well as when I’d last seen them, and the wife, Ruth, had invited me in for tea after I helped her put all her potted petunias back upright. The wind had knocked three pots into my yard. She’d recommended easy-to-care-for flowers when I’d admitted to being a newbie with plants. A seventh grader I’d taught two years ago lived down the street, and he’d stopped to tell me all about middle school.

  I liked being outside and wanted more reasons to hang out in my yard.

  Bruce must’ve noticed my efforts with the lawn. He razed through the beds with a small tiller and destroyed any annuals that might’ve bloomed again. I knew he was doing what he’d do for Willow—till up the beds before her annual greenhouse shopping spree, but I had different plans. Ruth had lived here long enough to know everyone’s flowers. She named them and told me how to thin them out. She’d noticed they were thick last year, but I doubted they’d grow back after Bruce’s attempts to help.

  His heart was in the right place. That knowledge tempered my anger. But June was my new favorite month. It used to be December. Cozy with Christmas, giving presents, getting gifts from Derek. The last two Christmases had been brutal, and while I was optimistic for it this year, I was all in with June. Lawns were green, and rain showers washed away all the dirt that had collected over the snow in the winter.

  Flowers bloomed in my neighbors’ yards and around town. I couldn’t afford to drop a ton of cash on new flowers. I guessed I’d have to see what I could do with a couple packets of seeds and Ruth’s knowledge. Life was happening again, and I wanted to be out enjoying it.

  After I had planted a few bucks’ worth of wildflower seeds, I had started demolition on the kitchen floor, directing all my irritation toward old laminate.

  I banished thoughts of my in-laws when I found Liam in the shop, loading his pickup. “Is that everything?”

  We had slipped into our good-friends routine since he’d returned. We discussed our daily lives and the farmers market, but we hadn’t done more than that. Our talk in the park hadn’t hit reset, but we hadn’t had the opportunity for more either. It wasn’t the relief I’d expected. Part of the feelings I purged with the flooring might’ve been the needy desire that reignited every time I remembered the solid wall of him behind me and the way he seemed to know my body better than I did.

  He put a hand on the tailgate, his expression pensive. “You think she’ll be there?”

  When Liam had learned that the director of the farmers market was his half sister, Isla Barron, I’d done the footwork for him to reserve the booth. No use starting drama if there didn’t need to be any. I hadn’t exactly lied, but I’d put my name down as the contact for Pewter Creations. He’d decided on the name, honoring his grandparents, but also as a play on the metalwork he offered. His items weren’t pewter, but the locals—and, more importantly, his half sister—wouldn’t initially put the two together.

  Isla was a gentle soul as far as I’d heard. A little bit of a pampered princess, but sweet. She might not hinder Liam’s ability to sell his wares, but Bruce and Cameron would. They were so close to successfully driving Liam away for good, they wouldn’t give up. Liam hadn’t listed the house yet. Since the Barrons were likely going to be the buyers, wanting the house in case Evander really did move home, Grandma Gin had said to wait, just as long as it sold before winter. It’d give her more time to stomach that family living on the land she’d cared for most of her life.

  “If she is, she’ll be professional. And if your booth is a success, it’ll make her look good. It’ll be fine.” It had to be fine. This was my idea. I didn’t want to be the one who thrust Liam headlong into needless conflict. Maybe we should’ve tried a market in a different town. Spent the extra time and gas money to keep him from getting hurt.

  He flipped his hat off and scratched his head as he considered the load in his pickup: the barstools, two individual stools made from the tractor seats, the end tables, and my favorite lamp. “I don’t have much to offer.”

  “The evening market is only a couple of hours.” I smiled at him. “Enough time to show off Pewter Creations.”

&nb
sp; “Enough time to get run out of town.”

  “There are plenty of non-Barrons here who will love to buy this stuff.”

  His dubious look made me wonder for the hundredth time if we were doing the right thing. I gave myself a mental shake. The right thing was letting others enjoy his beautiful work. It shouldn’t matter what his last name was.

  “This is your town too,” I added stubbornly. For a little while longer.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Then I guess it’s time to show them that I’m a lot like my dad. Cocky and full of denial.”

  I barked out a laugh. The boys ran into the shop.

  “Load up,” Liam told them.

  My nerves rose the closer to town we got. I’d packed sandwiches for the kids. Liam and I would eat after we got home. He didn’t admit it, but his nerves would probably make any food taste like wood.

  We didn’t see Isla. The young supervisor we were directed to was barely out of high school. When Liam gave her his name, she blinked. Hopefully, she was too young to realize Liam was that Barron.

  After we were shown where to set up, he backed his pickup up to his booth. We got cursory glances from the rest of the sellers. The June market wasn’t loaded with produce yet. I recognized a few people from around town. One booth had several varieties of lettuce and leafy greens that must have been herbs. The couple working the booth had two kids in elementary school, but I hadn’t had them in class. Another booth displayed various soaps, many made from goat milk. There was a flavored-popcorn booth—all organic, and another with products made from honey: glosses, lotions, and balms.

  We stood back and stared at the setup. Simple. Understated. Like Liam. He kept the pickup backed up to the booth and left the tailgate down. Other booths did the same, only the canvas overhang and walls hid the vehicles. We had a table and the iPad Liam set up for transactions.

  “This is it,” he murmured.

  Engines buzzed around the park. We were on the opposite side from the playground where Liam and I had talked about us.

  Us.

  When we’d talked, I didn’t think about him leaving. All I could think about was not losing him. But his plans to move hadn’t changed. What did that mean for us? Was there enough of an us for him to stay? For me to leave?

  Familiar panic clawed into my throat. The same as when I’d realized that if I couldn’t afford the house, I’d have to move. That old house was my first real home. Mom had moved us around fairly regularly and Coal Haven was the first place to feel like home.

  Bruce and Willow were like a second set of parents. Just as smothering and overbearing, but they loved me. If Evander was home, maybe the guilt of leaving them wouldn’t weigh so heavily. But I was getting ahead of myself. Liam and I had time to figure us out.

  The first customers arrived. A teacher from the high school and his wife. She worked in another town. For the next two hours, shoppers wandered through, several stopping to admire Liam’s work. Several people recognized Liam. A few knew his story. A few others gave his booth a wide berth as if they feared their livelihoods depended on it. If they worked at the gasification plant, then they probably did.

  Charlotte Garcia stopped and discussed a custom job with Liam. She had several horseshoes that had been her dad’s and she didn’t want to throw them out. Liam discussed a few options, and they settled on a firepit. I had no idea how he got a firepit out of horseshoes, but she was thrilled, and because of her reaction, I was thrilled.

  By ten minutes before close he’d sold the barstool set, both end tables he’d painted, and had an additional custom order to make before he left to go to Williston again.

  Liam scanned his notes. “These will take some time. Good thing I decided not to finish fixing up the house. If Bruce wants it, he can deal with a new porch.”

  In this case, I sided with Liam. He lit up a lot more when he welded for fun and sold his work than when he thought of selling his childhood home.

  Eli and Owen played in the back of the pickup, throwing large bouncy balls onto the lawn to see who could throw the farthest and who had the biggest bounce on the grass. Customers were dwindling as the last ten minutes ticked away.

  Liam was chatting to the soy candle couple next to us when I heard a man say, “You two need to knock it off before you hurt someone.”

  Liam’s conversation cut off, and we both spun to find the source.

  A tall man in a black suit with cowboy boots I hadn’t seen since Derek’s funeral glowered at the boys. Eli’s face was scrunched up like he was figuring out why they were in trouble, and Owen’s eyes were wide and fixed on the translucent blue ball in the man’s hands.

  Cameron Barron.

  His hard amber eyes landed on Liam. His lip curled like an automatic response, but his gaze swept the market, probably afraid his wife, Naomi, would witness him breathing the same air as Liam.

  I was afraid Naomi was close. That woman was toxic.

  “William. I should’ve known they were yours.” Cameron’s mouth changed from a sneer to a flat line. He had this thing about calling Liam by his full name. Derek had once asked Liam why and Liam had recited Cameron’s exact words. It’s the name your mother put on your birth certificate. Insinuating he didn’t agree about Liam’s full name, especially his last name, and he’d had no say.

  Liam took a few steps away from the pickup and lowered his voice so the boys wouldn’t hear. “Yeah, you should’ve, but we all know why you don’t. What did they supposedly do now?”

  Cameron tossed the ball to Liam. “They were throwing this at people.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Eli said. “He just walked by. It hit his boots.” The lisp made Cameron wince. If Eli wasn’t in the bed of the pickup, I’d put a protective arm around him.

  “He should’ve seen me,” Cameron said succinctly. “And he shouldn’t have thrown the ball.”

  “It was Owen,” Eli countered.

  Cameron didn’t look at him. “Perhaps you should be teaching your kids how to take responsibility for their mistakes.”

  Liam lifted a brow. “Pretty lofty standards for a guy who could never do it.”

  His father’s face flushed. “You and your—” His hostile gaze slid toward me. Animosity drained and his eyes widened. “Kennedy?”

  “Hi.” I stuffed my hands into the back pockets of my shorts as if I could pretend this was a nice normal night and my worst fear of what would happen wasn’t occurring this very minute.

  The sneer returned and was aimed at Liam. “I heard you were using her for free childcare.”

  “That’s me.” Liam spoke while I grasped for words to defend myself. “A user like my dad. Goodbye. I’ll tell Grandma Gin you said hi.”

  Cameron’s eye twitched. The boys were quiet, but sensing the hostility between the two men wasn’t hard. I would have been surprised if the whole market wasn’t staring at us.

  “Don’t come back here, William. Sell your garbage somewhere else. Isla has worked hard to build this up. She doesn’t need trouble.” He spun on the heel of his leather boot and strode off. I spotted Isla at the far end of the market, talking to another vendor. She lifted her gaze, spotted her dad, read his expression, then found us. Her mouth formed an O and she rushed to her dad.

  She’d found out and told him? I’d expected better of her, but then saying hi to someone at family picnics didn’t mean I knew her.

  “Who was that?” Owen asked, incensed that the man had interrupted his good time.

  “No one.” Liam flipped the case on his iPad closed and tossed it into the cab of the pickup. “Just a mean man with nothing better to do.”

  His jaw was set as he started loading the items that didn’t sell into the back of his pickup. The soy candle couple watched us, their gazes full of sympathy. If they hadn’t known before, they’d figured out who Liam was to the great Cameron Barron.

  I got the boys loaded and buckled by the time Liam was done. The supervisor was wandering by, oblivious to the drama. Liam thanked her fo
r the booth. Her surprise seemed genuine when he canceled the rest of his reservations.

  “Was there something wrong?” she asked.

  “No,” he said grimly. “But if I keep coming, then there will be.”

  We packed what was left and drove away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  “Nothing you did.”

  I had done everything. I’d encouraged him to come. I’d used my name instead of his. Putting his name down might’ve prevented the confrontation from being public. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

  “I shouldn’t have thought it’d be any different.”

  He was talented. He had a good eye for design and the creativity needed to do work that wasn’t for an oil field. I hated that the Barrons thought Liam was using me. He was the most generous man I’d ever known. But a family that hadn’t acknowledged him since before birth and pretended as if he and his kids didn’t exist wouldn’t understand anyway.

  Liam

  * * *

  The drive to my place was quiet. The boys sensed something was wrong. I didn’t want Kenny to feel bad. The only person I blamed was Cameron.

  Once I’d become a father, his behavior had seemed more bizarre. My situation hadn’t been identical, but there’d been similarities. My mom had latched on to him, gotten big ideas in her head. Thought she was what he’d be willing to leave his family for.

  As the only child of a couple who struggled to get into the black with ranching, my mom had envied Cameron’s wealth. Third generation oil money. Land. Siblings with land. A high-paying job handed to him because of the status of his last name. His wife drove a Lexus. My mom had wanted to be Naomi. She’d wanted to be in a family that didn’t have to mend clothes ten times before they purchased new ones. She’d wanted to be the wife that drove to Minneapolis to shop. The wife who’d had the entire refinery lighted for her when she’d given birth to Stetson.

  Then Cameron had showed her how he’d really felt. Hell, maybe he’d been remorseful. Maybe his affair with Mom had really been a bad decision in an overly stressful time of his life. But the way he’d handled it! A life growing up as the revered oldest, getting whatever he’d wanted, hadn’t made him sympathetic to the emotions of others—especially when he’d been the one to cause the hurt.