Page 10 of Pillowtalk

Kennedy

Kennedy’s fingers fumbled with the silver lid, barely lifting it before she forced it back in place. It was a perfectly windy evening, a breeze kicking up the salty scent of the lake just in front of her feet. She bit her lip, staring down at the murky water splashing against the dock and rocking canoes tied up near the shore. Jared would love this exact setting—symbolically being set free among the subtle waves of his favorite lake.

Kennedy tucked the urn against her, using her free hand to cover her face. Crumpling in with her shame, she felt her knees buckle and she lowered to the dock, unable to trust the stability of her feet.

It’s been a year,she told herself.A year, a year, a year…How could a simple task be so…not simple? She was being selfish, wanting to keep Jared close for fear that the devastation of losing him would crash over her all over again once she opened the urn and poured the contents. She’d only just begun the process of moving on, of crying less, of working and going through the motions. In fact, the only conversation she’d had about Jared that was not accompanied by an overwhelming sense of loss was the one just yesterday afternoon, with a man she just met.

She curled herself around the urn, burrowing into the comfort of her own arms. “Don’t be mad,” she pleaded, never knowing if Jared could hear or if she was only crying into a void. “Please, I…I…” Her arms tightened, pressing the cool, smooth metal surface hard against her chest. “I can’t let you go again.”

As the words fell from her lips, a faint memory prodded its way to the forefront of her mind. A few weeks before his passing, Jared, weak and upset with his condition, had begged her to sit in his lap. Kennedy had refused, shaking her head with the worry of putting him in even more pain. He’d mustered up enough strength to take her by the arm, his touch so gentle and almost childlike. It had been the look in his eyes that weakened her resolve, not the muscles that had once been so hard and defined. She’d gingerly settled her weight on him, careful not to disturb any IV or oxygen tube. There was a small wince in his eyes that had her backing up out of the wheelchair, but Jared had coaxed her back down, a hint of a smile on his dry lips.

It had taken her a moment, but Kennedy finally relaxed into his hold, ran a hand over his smooth head, pressed a kiss to the tear that trailed down his thinning face. With what seemed a great effort, he’d reached up and pushed away at the fallen strands of hair hanging loose from her ponytail.

“I can’t,” he’d said, his voice thick and hoarse and so foreign. “I can’t let you go.”

She’d promised him he wouldn’t have to. She’d promised that there would be no one else.

He hadn’t argued, and she’d taken his silence as an acknowledgment that he didn’t want her to let go, either.

She spent a few moments alone on the dock, letting the breeze tickle her neck as she bent forward and rested her forehead on her knees. Deciding that she was more selfish than she was strong, she blew out a breath and wiped away at a tear in the corner of her eye. She was here to do this for him, no matter how long it took. Tonight just wasn’t the time.

Her knees cracked from staying in a crouching position and an ache ran through her spine as she straightened. “Next time, baby,” she promised the empty space around her before turning toward the quaint and cozy B&B.

It was only a short walk—maybe a football field and a half long, filled with long grass and trees, but it gave Kennedy the time she needed to compose herself before she was around people again. Chelsea, Daniel, and their two rowdy boys had given her space, but Kennedy craved any company she could get. Her work kept her mind preoccupied for only so long, and whenever she found herself resting on the fluffy bed, Jared’s ashes propped up on the pillow next to her with the window view of the lake just beyond that, it was so easy to go from feeling nothing to feeling everything. The distraction of fun and surface conversation was nothing short of welcome.

Once she felt assured that her expression had returned to one of indifference, she quickened her pace, practically jogging around the corner of the B&B. It was then that a giant ball of gray and white fur blinded her and knocked the wind straight out of her lungs.

“Charlie!” Chelsea’s voice was heard over a heavy set of lungs panting in Kennedy’s ear as her butt went straight into the dirt. “You get off her right now.”

Kennedy pushed at the soft underbelly of her attacker, cringing at the wet kisses being licked across her cheek. An undercurrent of panic ran through her chest when she realized she was no longer holding Jared’s urn.

“Chelsea,” she sputtered around the canine affection. “The ashes, the ashes.”

“They’re okay.” A strained laugh came from Chelsea’s lips as she tugged on the dog’s leash. “For the love of baby Jesus, will you get off of her, Charlie? Kennedy is not a puppy toy!”

Only after the dog went from licking to sniffing down Kennedy’s body did he finally back off enough to let her get to her feet. Chelsea shook her head, holding back both a laugh and a growl at the pup.

“Useless,” she said. “This dog went through training and for what? To listen to only one guy on this planet.” She stuck her forefinger in the air to emphasize her point, staring down at the very clueless and happy puppy. Kennedy smiled and ran both hands down her front and over her bottom to dust off the dirt from her clothes.

“He can’t be more than a year old,” she said, bending for the urn, grateful that she’d tightened the lid back at the docks. “Come on, give him a break.”

Chelsea huffed. “This is why I don’t do dogs. They are invasive, always sniffing at your lady parts.”

“Ah, he’s a sweetheart.” Kennedy ran a hand over the soft fur at the top of his head, admiring the fluffy beauty. “Look at those eyes.”

“That’s where they get ya,” Chelsea said, undeterred. “It’s the same with kids. They pull out those doe eyes and give you a hug whenever something horrible has gone down.”

Kennedy chuckled under her breath. “I take it he’s not yours then?”

“Heavens no. What’s left of my sanity would be long gone.” She let out a sigh and plunked down on the porch steps, patting the spot next to her for Kennedy. “Aaron’s the only one he’ll listen to,” she continued as Kennedy sat, too.

“Aaron?” The stutter in Kennedy’s voice had her gulping back an unexpected jump under her skin at just the mention of the man’s name.

“Charlie is his.”

“Do you watch him often?”

Chelsea shook her head, her pink and blue head scarf waving with the slight wind. “Aaron and he are normally joined at the hip, but Natalie isn’t a fan of dogs, and he’s with her tonight. Austin usually dog-sits, but he’s also out. Since dating is rarely on my calendar”—she gave the door of the B&B a pointed look Kennedy imagined was directly for her husband somewhere inside—“I offered to take him.”

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