“Thanks for the food.” She rubbed my back, and I curled an arm around her for a half hug. I walked her to her car. Watched her give the kids hugs.
I didn’t want to lose this. The talk with the bank had to go well. I had to land a job closer to home. I was prepared for a drop in pay, but I’d been brainstorming ways to make it up. Thanks to Kenny, I had a few ideas. The farmers market wasn’t a bust. It’d shown me that I could sell my wares, and Coal Haven wasn’t the only option.
I just needed everything to fall in place.
Chapter 12
Kennedy
* * *
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Kennedy dear. I’ll set the table.”
I’d been at Willow and Bruce’s for a half hour. Thirty minutes of Willow clucking all over me about the summer school I was teaching. Do you really think you want to go back full-time? Isn’t that a lot of pressure? I remember Derek talking about the stress you were under.
Yes. No job was stress-free. I wanted to be in charge of my own classroom. I wanted to get to know my students’ parents again. I wanted to be invested in their education. I could be that as a para, but not on the level I craved. The teacher designed the lesson plans, and I did what she told me to. It didn’t matter that I disagreed that Demi needed extra reading lessons. I suspected she was dyslexic. But Marion was in charge, and she made the final decision. She had put her in Title I, and Demi returned from the specialized lessons with her little shoulders hanging and red-rimmed eyes.
Since I wasn’t involved in conferences, I hadn’t been able to intervene when the Title I teacher accused the parents of not reading to Demi enough. Never mind that Demi’s two older siblings read just fine.
I would never have told a parent it was their fault. And I wouldn’t have turned down the offer to order specialized chairs for the fidgety kids when the principal came around to discuss budget. But I wasn’t in charge of a classroom. The old-fashioned teachers, like Mrs. Z, who had taught Liam and Derek in kindergarten, were still in power and vetoed the newer ways of thinking. I itched to challenge them, to add to the voices that got ignored because they lacked seniority at the school.
Willow took the plates out of the cupboard.
“I can get the silverware at least,” I said. My ass was hurting from sitting too long in the hard wooden chairs at the dining room table.
“Not at all. I’ve got it.”
I mentally sighed. Willow was like this, and I shouldn’t take it personally. She’d done everything domestic since she’d gotten married at nineteen. With two sons out working cattle and fixing fences, she was used to having no help and used to no one wanting to help her.
But after merely fetching tools for my coveted flooring job, it stung.
It didn’t help that my attitude was sour. The school year was approaching, and no jobs were opening up. Last night, I’d sat at the table and calculated my expenses compared to what I would make another year as a para. The expenses had won.
I hadn’t talked to Liam about my concerns yet. He’d told me about the bank appointment and his plans to sell his work to supplement what he could make from a job in the area. While I was with Bruce and Willow tonight, he’d planned to apply for jobs. I joined him in worrying that between the bank visit and the job applications, word would get back to Cameron and he’d start shit.
And I had no one else to talk to. Not about my concern for Liam. Not about my own job prospects. Not about a mortgage that was suddenly so much harder to pay on one income. Combine that with visiting Bruce and Willow, and I missed Derek. He wasn’t here to smirk when he knew I wanted to roll my eyes. He couldn’t tell me everything was fine. And he wouldn’t be on the drive home when we could talk about the good and bad parts of the visit.
Willow bustled around me, setting out plates, forks, knives, and glasses. I had to do something, so I filled the water pitcher without asking. Willow disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a steaming glass dish. Chicken and rice. Derek’s favorite.
Acid climbed up my throat. I set the water pitcher down and took a long breath in and out. Why was chicken and rice hitting me so hard right now?
“Smells delicious.” I’d made chicken and rice before, but it was one of those dishes that never tasted the same when I made it, and it didn’t matter if I used identical ingredients.
“Thank you.” She beamed. “It was Derek’s…” She pressed her lips as she set the dish down. I had my hands plastered on the top of the table. Her gaze landed on my ringless finger, and she paled.
I spread my fingers. “I was working on something and didn’t want it to get wrecked. I haven’t put it back on because…” I couldn’t go back in healing, and right now, that was what it would signal.
“You don’t have to explain it to me,” she said gently, but her eyes shone as she scurried away.
Should I go to her? Tears burned the backs of my eyes. I rapidly blinked. Why was today so hard? Just because I was a little stressed?
Bruce walked through the side entrance from the garage. Perfect timing. If he hadn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d win the battle against the tears.
“Smells good.” He glanced at me, his eyes crinkling in the corners, thankfully oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Sorry, I had to change a tire on the Ranger.”
“It’s no problem.”
Willow reappeared and acted like nothing had happened. We chatted through supper. Willow asked about the floor. I showed her pictures and threw in the ones with the faucet and the inside of the toilet tank.
Her eyes went wide. “You fixed that? All by yourself?”
I didn’t want to get into a discussion about Liam, but a burn of betrayal ignited as I left him out. “I watched videos, and Carlton set me up with the right supplies.”
Willow’s smile was serene until her gaze landed on Bruce’s. Concern filled her eyes and her gaze darted to me.
I tensed. Now what?
Bruce cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help but hear what you were listening to when I showed up on Saturday.”
“My audiobook? I’d been waiting for a month to get that one from the online library. I can see why there was a long wait.” I was waiting for a couple more on easy DIY projects I could do on a budget.
“If you need help, I can look over your finances—”
“No!” I hadn’t meant to shout. “No, thank you. I’ve got everything under control.” I wanted my growth to include all aspects of my life. Not just getting off the couch and showering. I wanted to be competent around the house, with my money, my job, my vehicle. Everything. I wasn’t going to be carried through life anymore.
“Kennedy, I know it’s all new to you: the mortgage, insurance, utilities. I can take over paying the bills again, figure out a monthly budget now that you’re working again. And”—he exchanged another glance with Willow—“we can help out. You know, if you need it. I know being a para doesn’t pay as much as your previous salary, or Derek’s.”
Willow’s encouraging nod didn’t help the dismay mushroom clouding in my chest. Because of my breakdown, Bruce had rescued me. He knew all about my bills, and it was a small town. A few well-placed questions and he’d have a rough idea of a para’s hourly wage.
I glanced between the two of them. They wanted to take over the budget and give me an allowance? Did they realize what they were asking? Did they realize the independence it would take away?
I was a twenty-six-year-old widow. An allowance? “I appreciate the offer, but I have it under control. If I can control a classroom of third graders, I think I can handle it.” My nervous chuckle landed in their silence.
“It’d take a lot of pressure off,” Bruce said gently, like he was talking to a skittish mare. “Really, we want to help. I’d never forgive myself if you were struggling and I didn’t know.”
The unspoken again echoed between us.
That damn water heater. I hadn’t realized how badly it had scared Bruce and Willow. The leak must’ve happened right before
Liam had left town for his twenty days. Not only had I ignored my hygiene because I didn’t have hot water and had told everyone I was fine, but my wet basement had been growing who knew what. If Bruce hadn’t stopped in, I might’ve gotten sick from the stagnant, mold spore-ridden air and my house’s foundation could’ve been ruined. “Honestly, I’m doing really well. I listened to that audiobook so I can get better, not because I can’t do it or because I’m in trouble.”
“Just think about it. We’re here for you.” Another shared look with Willow.
Were they listening? Anger at them draped around me like a suffocating plastic bag. Fury at myself for being so out of it during my breakdown joined in. How could I blame my in-laws for worrying and offering help when they’d had to hold my hand until I could stand on my own again? How could I prove to them that not only was I standing, but I was ready to run? Or did they even want that?
What if doting on me made them feel closer to Derek?
I pinched the bridge of my nose. And that was why my attitude had taken a dive. Times like this anchored me back into being Kennedy the Widow. I was a widow. That would never change. But I was embracing my other roles. Kennedy the teacher. Kennedy the DIY home repair hobbyist. Kennedy the girlfriend. And I really wanted to explore that last role. Because one of the lessons I’d learned as a widow was that life was short.
“Are you feeling okay?” Willow peered outside. “Oh, it’s getting dark. You can sleep over if you’d like. There’ve been several deer hanging out in the trees by the bend. I wouldn’t want one to jump in front of you on your way home.”
I saw my out and snatched it. “I’d better get going, then. I feel fine; don’t worry.” They’d worry, but I didn’t want to deal with that.
I said my goodbyes and did the best driving of my life when I looped around their yard. No deer were getting in my way. I was a woman on a mission.
Making sure not to kick up a dust cloud so my in-laws couldn’t see my route, I drove to the next driveway and the familiar copse of trees.
I could take care of my house. I could take care of my expenses. I could take care of myself. I was free to choose my path, and, when it came to sex, that path led to Liam.
By the time I jogged up the steps, Liam was at the door. “Hey.” His warm gaze swept over my face. “Everything okay?”
“Are the kids asleep?”
“I haven’t heard a peep from them in an hour.”
I put my fingertips on his hard chest and pushed him inside. “I think I’m ready.”
He shut the door behind me. “For what?”
“For everything.”
He didn’t haul me to his bedroom like I wanted him to. “What happened?”
I had told him about having to visit Bruce and Willow tonight. “Same old.”
“Revenge sex isn’t the answer,” he said softly.
This man. Always looking out for me. I cupped his face. “This is because of the way they coddle me, yes, but it’s not revenge. This is me realizing that I’ve come so far in my healing journey that I’m ready for more. I’m ready to be with you.”
His pupils dilated, but he leaned down, his hands gripping my wrists. “You sure?”
“I’m not going to lie and say that it’ll be easy. Maybe it will be, maybe it won’t. But I know that no matter what, it’ll be okay.” Liam would make sure of it. “So, yes, I’m sure.”
He clasped my hand. “All right.”
I was in Liam’s bedroom. It was me and him and the closed door.
The light was off. He let go of my hand and flipped on the dull lamp on the nightstand.
He took my hands, leading me to the bed. I sat on the end, spreading my hands out on his stomach. His muscles tightened, but he remained standing.
“I want you to know that I understand.” He took a condom out of his wallet and set it by the lamp. He cupped my chin and lifted until I met his gaze. “I know what a big deal this is. I know that you’ll think of him. And I want you to know it’s okay. I can’t think of a better man to be compared to. I’m not jealous. I’m not intimidated.”
I fisted my hands in his shirt, my throat constricting. He was right. I’d been trying not to, but with Liam’s words, all that pressure drained out.
“I’m with you, no matter what.”
“Liam,” I whispered. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. “You’re too good to be true.” I used my right hand to swipe at my eyes. “I didn’t want to cry during this.”
“Cry all you need to.” He kneeled in front of me and smoothed his hands along my bare legs, his fingers going under the material of my linen shorts. “As long as you’re sure.”
I nodded and grabbed his face, bent, and plastered a kiss on his mouth. There was no other way to communicate my appreciation and how badly I wanted to be with him because of how amazing he was.
The kiss was sloppy, demanding, but he rose without breaking contact. He leaned me back until I was stretched in the middle of his bed. He kept his mouth on mine as he shoved all the blankets to the side. And then it was just me and him on the sheets.
I melted between him and the cool mattress. The heat of his body flowed into me, waking up nerve cells that had been jittery for weeks. His weight promised that the demands of those cells would be met tonight.
He broke away to slip his shirt over his head. I’d seen him without his shirt over the years, but this experience was different from them all. The way I looked at him was different. His washboard abs and the smattering of hair across his chest sent a wave of pounding desire from my eyes to my center.
I ran my fingers along his skin. I’d never touched him like this. Never imagined I would, but this moment felt as natural as breathing, yet as terrifying as skydiving.
He drew my blouse over my head and tossed it on the floor next to his shirt. I glanced between us. He was cut from stone, and I was more like a dough ball waiting to be kneaded. My gaze strayed to the light, and he noticed.
“I don’t want you to hide from me, but if you want it off, I’ll shut it off.” His gaze stroked over my chest where I filled out a bra that had once been too roomy, then down to my belly. His gaze heated, filling me with confidence.
“No.” I might think differently once my pants were off. By then, he’d have seen everything. This wasn’t the time to be self-conscious. I had more to get over than whether my cellulite was visible. “Leave it on.”
He kissed a path down my neck until I squirmed. He took his time taking my bra off, kissing across the tops of the cups before he tugged them down. Cool air wafted over my tight nipples before his hot tongue licked across the tip.
I arched into him and moaned. He switched to the other side, sliding his hands behind me to undo the bra. In seconds, it was gone, but he didn’t go for my shorts. He took his time with my breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth on one side, then switching to the other.
I was a needy mess, but I didn’t want this torture to end. He kept much of his weight off me, but I wanted him pressed against me. I’d been empty so long; I needed more than his heat and his soapy cedar smell. I needed all of him.
He finally traced a path down my belly, pulling my shorts down and taking the underwear with them an inch at a time. The barer I got, the more I tensed. I squeezed my eyes shut. His head was between my spread legs. But the soft kiss he pressed on my pelvic bone, then to the sensitive flesh farther down, and the way he pushed my legs apart—so gentle, but so confident—eased my tension.
“I’ve got you, Kenny,” he whispered as he dipped his head and kissed my clit.
Ultrasensitive, I bowed my back off the bed. He didn’t stop, but he didn’t attack me. Small increments of pressure ratcheted me higher until I dug my hands into his hair. He’d always kept it longer than Derek’s.
My eyes flew open as panic yanked me out of the moment. I’d just thought about my husband.
Liam’s reassuring words from earlier floated through my mind, and I sank back into the pleasure. I luxuriated in
the silky texture of his hair between my fingers. How my calves rested against his wide shoulders. The stroke of his tongue against me.
My grip had tightened and my hips had set a rhythm, but I was still seeking, searching for more. Sensing my need, he placed a finger at my entrance, but he didn’t shove inside. The invasion was steady, lacking all force, as if he measured his movements against the way I rocked my hips. When he was in, I was lost. His tongue. The thrust of his finger. I clamped around him and rode higher on the pleasure. The crest was there; I just had to reach it.
“Liam.” His name was a plea. The desire pounding me was stronger than before. It was like reaching for a favorite candy, but it was just beyond my grasp, and I was stretching so intensely it bordered on painful.
He answered my need, and I rocketed to the peak. Seeing him lick me, his shoulders flexing as he moved, my body spread before him, I barked out a cry and slapped my hand against my mouth as I came. Hard. Against his tongue, all over his hand. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my body shook through my release.
He withdrew from me, but stayed close, kissing his way up my body. “You still with me?”
I gulped in air. “I’m not with myself yet.”
His deep chuckle, like the ones over the phone that sent shivers through my body, rooted me in the moment. He reached for the condom and set it on the bed next to us. His hair was mussed from my fingers, and he vibrated with unspent energy. He was holding back, like when we were in the guest room. I was safe with him.
I skimmed my hands up his torso. Firm muscle under warm skin. He was still between my legs, but he hadn’t taken off his jeans. This time when my fingers landed on his waistband, he didn’t stop me. He was poised above me, propping himself up with one hand as he watched me unbutton and unzip his pants.
If I let go, my hands would shake, but I couldn’t stop if I tried. The orgasm had been amazing, but now that the aftershocks had passed, I remained unfulfilled. He wasn’t on me or in me, and I needed him to be.
Make Me Whole: Oil Barrons, Book 1 Page 14