Page 25 of Pillowtalk

Kennedy

Every aching step from the lake to the B&B felt heavier than the one before. Kennedy sucked in a deep breath, refusing to look over her shoulder for fear of turning right back around.

“Baby steps,” she whispered to herself. After a good twenty minutes at the edge of the dock, her courage had faltered once again. If only she had some sort of assurance that everything would be all right once he was really gone. It was silly, because Jared was already really gone. The ashes were nothing, but at the same time, they wereeverything.

She’d turned around and stared at the boathouse, an idea surfacing in her mind. Maybe a trial run was in order. So she’d tucked the urn away in a crate, next to some extra ropes and tethers, and left it there. She’d try again tonight after the crowded B&B settled down…if she made it that long without him.

When she got within a few yards of the front door, the happy noise inside only exhausted her more. The day was certainly catching up with her, not to mention the long night before with little sleep. Though, she had to admit, the sleep shedidget was the most restful she’d had in nearly a year.

She fought the extra beats pattering in her chest and frowned at the uncontrollable reaction she had when she thought of Aaron. Guilt almost always followed suit, and it did in that moment, especially after just wishing she didn’t have to let Jared go again.

Her mind was most definitely done for the day, and while she wore a painted-on smile as she passed through the townspeople and the guests checking in for the evening, it was a welcome relief not to pretend when she got to her room, shut the door, and fell back onto the bed. The moment her eyes closed, her mind drifted away into blissful oblivion.

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Kennedy startled awake as a deep, vibrating clap sounded outside her open window. The wild wind blew in, whipping her short, mussed brown hair over her eyes, bringing with it the watery scent of the lake. She pushed her hair out of her face, squinting over to the clock on the nightstand. It was only just after six o’clock; she hadn’t been asleep for even an hour, but just like that girl had said, Mother Nature was a deceptive woman. Another storm was rolling in, and it looked even darker than its predecessor.

Kennedy stretched on the mattress before curling back up to snuggle with her pillow. “Is this your doing, again?” she asked the space next to her, her eyes closed as she soaked in the comfort of the blankets tangled between her legs. She imagined Jared answering in her sleepy haze, telling her that he was indeed the reason for the weather. She could almost hear his laughter puncturing the thunder in the distance. It enveloped her, wrapped around her shoulders, brought a light smile to her face until she remembered that it was only a memory—as fleeting as the sunshine had been.

A salty tear filled the corner of her eye, and she reached up and swept a finger over her cheek. There was no warmth to curl into anymore. No strong set of arms, no contagious laughter, no comforting kisses or long, passionate expressions of love. It was all gone. All she had was the cold steel of a polished urn and the memory of someone she feared she’d eventually forget.

Her hand fell to the empty side of the bed, feeling along the stitching of the comforter for that cold steel she desperately needed to hold. When her fingers bumped against the soft feather pillow, she lifted her head, brows pulled in confusion. Then, as quickly as light chasing away darkness, her sorrow warped into panic.

He’s outside….She’d put himoutside.

She pushed up off the bed and searched for her shoes. “I’m so sorry,” she babbled under her breath as she hopped into a pair of ballet flats. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Her feet slipped across the wood floor as she turned the corner and started down the stairs. The B&B was quieter than it had been when she’d fallen asleep, but she barely noticed as she threw her pink hood over her head and jogged out into the fury of wind and the smell of forthcoming rain.

The thunder above was nothing compared to the thundering of her heart, beating in tune with her gait. She raced through the overgrown grass, slipped through the damp sand along the edge of the lake, and thumped across the splintered wood of the dock. She pulled the heavy door of the boathouse against the wind, and it slammed shut behind her, leaving her in darkness. She felt along the wall, realizing she’d left her phone up in her room and there was no source of light other than the single skylight above her. The clouds were growing a darker gray, threatening rain, but there was still no sign of it. A sting ran through Kennedy’s shin as she hit the crate, and she crouched, hands shaking as she dug around for the familiar smooth surface.

The moment her fingers slipped over the round metal of the lid, her stomach eased and she found breathing much easier.

“Thank heavens,” she whispered, plucking the urn from the crate and hugging it to her chest. She retraced her footsteps back to the door, pushed against it hard, and squinted into the brighter outside. As the door slammed shut behind her and the wind nearly knocked her off her feet, she clutched the ashes, her relief quickly morphing into an overwhelming sense of grief. She felt her knees buckle, and they struck the wood underneath her as she collapsed, a wave of sobs racking her very core.

“I…I’m so sorry,” she uttered against the lid. “I forgot. Iforgot.”

Voicing the unforgivable sin only increased her sorrow, her guilt. It was her fear come to life—that she’d forget Jared, even if only for a second. It had been longer than that…and she’d forgotten he was out there. He was out there, the storm nearly on them, and she was asleep, warm, comfortable….She’d forgotten she’d left him in the boathouse. How could she have forgotten?

Kennedy curled around the urn, protecting it from the wind, but also protecting herself from the horrible thoughts passing through her busy mind. She wanted so badly for someone to talktoher,and a feeling of betrayal ran through her, followed by the ever-returning guilt whenever she thought of Jared in a negative light. But he’d left her, and while she found ways to talk to him, she longed for someone to talk back.

“It’s not fair,” she sobbed against the urn for probably the thousandth time since the relentless disease stole him away. It wasn’t fair, there was nothing she could do to change it, and it felt impossible for her to move on. She wanted a reprieve, if only for a day, for a night…something to take her away from her mind, from her heart, from her guilt, from thisgrief.

The wind rushed over her back, tossing her hood from her head. She made no movement to fix it, her tired and achy arms locked around the urn. She could stay out there all through the storm, clinging to Jared not only physically, but emotionally as well. That was the problem—shewantedto let go, but shecouldn’tfind it in her to do so.

She sat for an eternity, so long that her legs cramped underneath her, her nose went numb from the cold, and her throat was sore from the aching sobs she couldn’t control. She felt no sense of comfort, not that she deserved it. There was only the wind, the waves on the lake, and the distant thunder to keep her company.

A chill ran up her spine as she felt the weight of her hood distinctly lift off her back. Goosebumps prickled along her arms as it was gently placed back atop her head.

A rush of heat ignited in her chest and made her lift her eyes. She blinked against the blurry wave of tears and looked straight into a honey-colored gaze, so full of concern and…empathy.

Aaron crouched, tentative as he took a spot next to her. He was careful in his actions, as if Kennedy were a terrified stray and he was only there to provide food and shelter for a night. He kept his eyes on hers, watching them with a fiery intensity that warmed her chilled body from the inside out. His arm slowly wrapped around her shoulder, and the moment it settled, she turned, burrowing into his sweet comfort.

His other arm came around her, and in his strong, warm arms, Kennedy lost all control, equally grief-stricken and grateful.

“I left him out here,” she said into the fabric of his overshirt, a button pressing against her lips. “I thought I could try to…” She drifted off, and she noticed one of her hands clinging to Aaron, and not to the urn. Her heart sank into the deepest, darkest pit, but she didn’t want to move her hand. She wanted it there, curling into his collar, keeping him locked around her while she cried through one of her many weak moments. She shook her head, ashamed of what her body wanted.

“I don’t know what I thought,” she finished. Aaron’s hand rubbed up her back, encouraging her to slide in closer, bury deeper into the comfort he was offering. She went easily, her mind telling her that she shouldn’t want this, but her body too vulnerable to understand or listen to any sort of logic.

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