Page 33 of Wrecked
The man that was supposed to be my best friend laughed and then turned to his brother and asked, "You know thatKhe has inked on his chest?" Chase nodded, and Logan lifted one eyebrow, "Well…"
Lizzy's eyes grew wide as she bounced on the spot. "Oooooh."
"I still don't get it," Chase groaned.
A French fry flew across the table courtesy of Harper. "It stands for Kenzie, you dummy."
"Ah, so she's the one who…" Chase's voice trailed off as he glanced at me. I'd never been one to sit around and talk about my personal life, but apparently, one night when I'd had a little too much to drink, I'd told the guys that a girl broke my heart. Luckily, I never went into details, but that didn't stop them from mocking me.
They'd given me shit over it for weeks.
"Well if you ask me," Harper chimed in. "Fate had a hand in her ending up in Willow Creek."
"You believe in that mumbo jumbo?" I asked.
Her lips lifted into a smile as she looked up at Logan. "I do." My friend tugged her even closer, and despite the protests around the table, he kissed her as if none of us were watching.
I couldn't look away. The ache in my chest grew to the point of becoming unbearable the longer I stared. It was finally time, to be honest, with myself at least. I might've been furious with Kenzie, and I definitely said some shit just to hurt her right back, but there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about her. No matter how hard I'd tried, my love for her wouldn't diminish.
And now that I'd seen her, held her, there was not a damn thing I wouldn't do to have her look at me the way Harper looked at Logan.
What if Harper was right, and I was handed a second chance?
Chapter 17
"Ugh."
I fell onto the bed, face first. The entire drive back to the guesthouse, all I wanted to do was crawl into Brett's lap and just forget reality. I'd wanted to pull on the handbrake and demand he reacted on the heat I'd seen in his eyes.
Now, with my face buried in a pillow, all I wanted to do was scream until my lungs gave out. My phonebzz bzz'din my pocket, interrupting my pity-party. With a very unladylike groan, I rolled onto my back and pulled the device from my jeans.
My parents' home number flashed on my screen, and I knew it was time to be an adult and face the music. I closed my eyes and answered.
"Kenzie, why have you not been answering our calls? Your father and I have been worried sick."
"You're sure daddy isn't just worried about me losing this account for the company?"
My mom gasped. "You know you are more important to him than his clients."
Pushing off the bed, I headed to the window that overlooked the garden. With my shoulder propped against the wall, I pulled the curtain back and stared at Mrs. Davis's gazebo. "I'm fine, Mom."
"Well, you don't sound it." After a few seconds of silence, my mother sighed and continued in a hushed tone, "You know the Raymonds from across the street?" She didn't give me any time to confirm. "I heard their oldest daughter suffered a breakdown after she turned thirty. Is this what's happening to you?"
My mother was well-known for her dramatics. I shook my head and then realized she couldn't see me. "My car suffered a breakdown, not me. Besides, I'm thirty-three, Mom. I think if I were going to have a meltdown over turning thirty, it would've happened by now."
"Where is this attitude coming from?"
I blew out a long breath, "I'm not giving—"
"Dean said you were at a bar. A bar, Kenzie?"Here we go."Care to explain yourself?"
As usual, my statement over my age went over my mother's head. The only thing she really cared about was me making them look bad.We have a reputation to uphold after all. Those words were ingrained in me for as long as I could remember. When I was just a little girl, and my friends were climbing trees and playing in the mud, I had to sit stock-still next to my mother while she drank tea with her so-called-friends.That is not lady-like behavior, Kenziewas her response every time I'd asked if I could go play too.
I smiled as I remembered the day I'd introduced Brett to my parents. My poor mother took one look at his ratty jeans and wild hair and shook her perfectly styled head.
"You need to leave that town," I heard her say. "When are you coming home?"
"I'm not sure." I caught sight of Mrs. Davis tending to the flowers by the gazebo, and I remembered the look on her face when she spoke about her late husband. "I'm going down to the shop in a bit to find out how long my car is going to take. I'll call you later."
