Page 38 of Wrecked
"Every day, for almost seven months." I didn't understand the confusion flashing in his eyes.
His gaze dropped to the floor, a quizzical expression pulling his brows together. "You didn't get any of my letters?"
"The only letter I got from you was the one where you told me that you wished you'd never met me," I mumbled.
Brett shook his head vehemently and rushed toward me. "You don't understand, Kenzie, I sent letters before that one. I tried calling your house, but your mom would never let me talk to you."
"You did?"
He cupped my shoulders and stooped, eyes full of concern scanning over me. "Sweetheart, before I went away you were my whole world. That wasn't about to change because I traded my apartment for a six by nine cell."
"But you said—"
"Those words were written in anger. You never showed up when you said you would. I was hurting—" he touched his chest, "—here."
Never in my life had I felt as confused as I did at that moment. "I don't understand," my gaze shifted to the side for a moment then snapped back to his. "You called the house?"
He swallowed, "I did."
My hands flew to my mouth, and I took a step back. "No," I breathed. "This can't be right."
"Kenzie?" Brett's voice was filled with so much tenderness; I wanted to wrap it around me like a safety blanket.
"Don't you see? My dad had found a way to intercept our letters. I should have paid more attention when he'd vowed he'd make sure we'd never see each other again." I took another step back. "I'm so stupid."
As the heart-shattering realization dawned, angry tears slipped from my eyes. How was it possible for parents to put their child through so much hurt?
Chapter 19
I held my breath as I watched the emotions flit across Kenzie's face.She shook her head and pressed a palm to her chest. "How could they do that?" The question slipped from her lips in a whisper.
"I don't know, Sweetheart." My answer barely registered as her gaze bounced from one place to the next. The tears rolling down her cheeks might as well have been my own. I felt her sadness in my bones.
For the short period, I'd had them, my parents had been the best two people I'd known. They'd both been artists. Momma was a very gifted painter, and there was not one sculptor as great as my dad. My parents were the reason I'd studied art. Unfortunately, an icy road had taken them from me far too soon. But in the end, I was thankful that they went together because the one would not have survived without the other.
I'd always believed that all kids were raised with the same amount of love and understanding I had been. I was proven wrong when I'd met Mr. and Mrs. Michaels for the first time. They'd had everything they could have possibly wanted, and it wasn't enough. Their daughter wasn't enough. Too many times I'd heard them tell her that she needed to remember who she was representing. That they had a reputation she had to uphold.
I'd kept my mouth shut for Kenzie.
Her parents and I had never really gotten along, but I respected them for raising such an incredible daughter. In this moment, though, I felt nothing but contempt for them. Anger, sadness, and, confusion all fought their way to the surface, and I honestly had no clue what to do.
I was torn between pulling her into my arms and beating the shit out of her daddy. That idiot had cost me—us—everything.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I should have figured out that her dad had kept her away. Kenzie had always told me about how influential the man had been. The thing was, when you're hurting you're incapable of thinking straight and more often than not, you want someone else to hurt with you.
Bile rose in my throat as I recalled the insults I'd thrown at Kenzie. I'd been an insensitive jerk—and that was putting it mildly. Throwing around words likeself-centered,spoiled little rich girl… That familiar sense of panic started working its way through my veins again. With Kenzie in the state she was, there was no way I was going to leave her to run it out of my system.
But I did need to take the edge off.
I spun around and stalked to the kitchen where I pulled a beer from the fridge and gulped down half of it in one go. Kenzie's hesitant footfalls alerted me to her presence. Facing her, I swiped a palm over my beard and held the brew out to her.
With a small shake of her head, she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms in front of her.
Now was not the time to be drinking in her beauty but I couldn't help myself. I'd had need coursing through my veins the moment I'd spotted her standing outside my workshop.
There was no doubt that she'd rocked her pencil skirt and blouse when she'd arrived in town, but, Kenzie Michaels in a pair of tight fitting Levi's and a tee was enough to give any man fever dreams in broad daylight.
I brought the bottle back to my lips, hoping the cold brew would douse the flame of want raging inside me.
