Page 82 of Tainted

Zara’s face kept appearing in my thoughts. Her smile, her laugh, how she looked at me with those curious eyes. I doubt she’d look at me the same if she knew the things I didn’t discuss. Pops would’ve been the ideal person to ask, but he wasn’t here, and nobody knew him better than Loriann.

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I asked Kenyon. Is that all you saw when you looked at him?”

“Some days.”

Her smile faltered slightly. “If he were here, he’d tell you he didn’t feel like much of a good man most days. He had a lot of regrets about the decisions he made. Especially when he came home and looked at his children, especially you.”

My chuckle turned into a scoff. I couldn’t tell if Mom was being honest or trying to improve the image of her late husband.

“Eric saw so much of himself in you. Stubbornness, the need to prove yourself, and loyalty to the people you care about. But most of all, the struggle between wanting to do the right thing and feeling trapped by circumstances. He didn’t want you to make the same choices he did, to feel the same regrets. But he didn’t know how to show it or how to reach you. So instead, he tried to mold you into something different.”

I swallowed hard, the realization settling in. "He hated me because he hated himself?”

She lifted her eyes, delivering a warning glare because even in death, she wouldn’t tolerate anyone slandering Eric Keyes’s name.

“He didn't hate you, Kenyon. He loved you both, but Kross didn't challenge your father like you did. Eric saw himself in you but knew Kross would follow the rules and keep things steady.You were a constant reminder of his failures and regrets. It wasn't fair, but it’s the truth.”

It was hard to reconcile my image of my father with the one she was painting, so I changed the subject.

“Did you ever think about leaving?”

“I did more than think about it,” she repeated softly with a smirk. “I did leave, but Eric, being Eric, refused to let me go. He showed up wherever I was with flowers. A gift. Anything he could think of.”

“You had Pops strung out like that?”

“For about a month. He refused to give up because he said he could live without many things, but I was the only person who’d ever looked at him with love. He didn’t even see it looking in his mother’s eyes, and it wasn’t until he met me that he realized what he had been missing.”

She sighed, the memories weighing on her. “My Grandma used to say hope is your brain trying to reconcile things we know aren’t right. If she had lived long enough to meet Eric, she would’ve reminded me of that and told me to run as far as possible.” Mom let out a laugh that made me smile.

“Were you scared to stay?”

“I was terrified. But I also saw the man he wanted to be, the man I believed he could become. I know you didn’t think much of him at times, but he worked so hard that he wanted you and Kross to have more choices than he did.”

“I never said that.”

“You wanted to every time I had to pick your head up after a fight with your father. That was his path. What’s your excuse?”

Her question hit me hard, like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up a hand, stopping me.

“Kenyon, your father worked hard so you and Kross could have choices. He wanted better for you. And yet, you're here, making the same decisions he did, justifying them the same way.You can blame circumstances all you want, but at the end of the day, you're choosing this life. Make peace with that or do something about it.”

Her comparison made my posture stiffen. "At the time, I didn’t have a choice. I did what Kross needed me to do.”

She sighed, her expression softening. "So who is she?”

“What?”

“The woman that has you standing in my kitchen searching for advice in your parent’s relationship. Tell me something about her.”

I knew Zara fumbled her words when she got nervous. She loved to dance but hated attention. Country music made her light up, but Tanner Adell’s voice was her favorite. Whenever Zara was unsure, she’d twist the ring on her finger. She was a complex mixture of independence and naivety. Not in an airhead kind of way, Zara was still finding her way in life.

“I will if I need to,” I replied.

“I’m not the only one who’s lost something, you know,” she said, shifting the conversation's focus. “How are you doing?”

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