Page 50 of Aviator
My temper flares, and I take Frank by the collar of his jacket and throw him bodily out of the front door. He lands on his ass in the snow. “Don’t come back here, Frank, or I’ll fuckin’ kill you. And if I ever hear of you coming around Kenna, I’ll take my time with it. Do you understand me?”
I don’t wait for his response and go back inside, slamming the door and locking it securely behind me. I watch the security feed as Frank limps to his truck and, thankfully, drives away. Finally, I turn to Kenna, standing stock-still, her face still bleached of all color.
Going to her side, I cup her cheek. “Are you okay, princess? I’m so fucking sorry for that piece of shit. He’s gone now.”
She shakes her head as though to clear her thoughts. “No, I’m sorry. I should have told you before.”
I scoff. “I don’t care about that shit. Do you see the way I live? Money doesn’t matter to me. Rich or poor. I don’t care. There are more important things in life than your bank account.”
Kenna peers up at me with watery eyes. “You don’t know that. Money changes people.”
“What are you saying?”
“My mom ditched us after my dad left. We didn’t hear from her for years. You know the first time she showed up? It wasn’t for the girls’ birthdays or the time Klaire got so sick she was in the hospital and we thought she might die. It was a week after she learned I won. She was asking for a loan. I was so grateful to see her again—I just wanted my mom—that I gave her the money thinking if she didn’t have to worry about bills, maybe she’d stick around.” She wipes her nose. “Now, I only see her when she runs out of cash. She disowned me when I stopped giving her a monthly allowance.”
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. She’s a shit person.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I really don’t care about the money. Having some doesn’t change how much I like having you in my bed. How much I can’t stop thinking about having you riding my tongue.”
Her face flames, and she sways toward me, then steps back. “I want to believe you. God, I do. And maybe I will. This is just moving so fast, and I think I need to get my head on straight.”
“What are you saying?” I ask evenly.
“Nothing bad. I just think maybe we should take a bit of a breather. Spend a night or two apart. I—I care about you, Dean, and I don’t want to screw this up. I know you don’t care about the money, but I have my sisters to think about. I have to be smart here. So, I’m going to get a room at the lodge for the night, and we can talk tomorrow. Please don’t fight me on this. I just need some time to think.”
I tuck my hands into my pockets so I don’t grab her and tie her to my bed. Now that I’ve got her, the thought of letting her leave drives me crazy. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Whoever shot you is still out there.”
She nods. “I won’t leave the hotel or see anyone I don’t know. It’s just for tonight so I can think.”
Finally, I take her into my arms and press my lips into her hair. “I don’t like this shit at all, but I understand. Take all the time you need. Call me when you want to see me, yeah?”
“I will, I promise. It’s just for a day or two to catch my breath. Actually get ahold of my sisters and let the media die back down.”
“I get it. Do you want me to drive you there?”
She shakes her head. “I saw my rental outside. Margaret brought it home from the airport. I’ll take it.”
“Let me know when you get there, okay?”
“Of course. This isn’t goodbye.”
“You’re damn right it’s not.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KENNA
I don’t remember muchof the drive from Dean’s to the hotel. It passes in a blur as I waste time driving around town. In fact, the entire week feels like it’s been a blur. So much has happened that when Dean’s stepdad barged in, it felt like reality coming crashing down around us. I mean, I knew it was bound to happen. We couldn’t continue in our bubble. We both have real lives to get back to. The question was. . . would they fit together?
I pass a closed mountain coaster, a mining attraction, what must be a tourist district with a bunch of kitschy shops and stores, and several restaurants. Remembering that the only thing I have to wear is Dean’s oversized clothing and no toiletries, I stop at one of the boutiques to stock up on clothes and necessities.
I step into the boutique, the soft chime of the door announcing my presence. The air is filled with the scent of new clothes, and the racks are a riot of colors and textures. It’s a stark contrast to the rough, mountainous terrain I recently left behind. I let the atmosphere wash over me, grateful for a small step towards normalcy after such a harrowing experience. Normally, I enjoy taking my time shopping, but all I want is to get what I need, find a room for the next few days, and not draw too much attention to myself.
The shopkeepers, a pair of older women with near identical sable brown bobs, glance up as I enter, their eyes widening with recognition. My face must be recognizable from the news reports, another reminder of the helicopter crash that left me stranded, and the other detail they might remember: I was one of the lucky few who won the lottery several years ago, an unexpected twist of fate that’s been both a blessing and a challenge.
I cringe inwardly, hoping they don’t draw too much attention to me. Or, God forbid, start filming for social media. I’ve had both happen and, on rare occasions, have had complete strangers come up to me asking for money, favors, or worse. So, I wasn’t surprised by Frank’s appearance and demand for money. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. It just wasn’t how I wanted Dean to find out. It was something I wanted to do on my own terms.
