Kenzi shifted slightly, her leg brushing his in the process. “Why aren’t you friends anymore?”
“We drifted apart. My brother is in Kentucky and my sister is in Montana.”
“But you could call them if you wanted?”
“I guess.” The oatmeal tasted and felt like glue in his mouth. He forced it down and shoveled in another spoonful to keep from having to answer another question. He hadn’t talked to his brother or sister in ages. His brother called once while he was in prison. The conversation was short and awkward—Nash knowing he was the black sheep of the family. His sister visited once and cried the whole time. They’d not said three words to each other. She just sobbed and blew her nose and he watched her, his heart breaking the entire time. He didn’t leave his cell for two days after that visit—not even to eat.
He forced in another bit of oatmeal before pushing his bowl away. “This is awful. I’ll eat oatmeal cookies.”
Kenzi laughed, the sound as airy as a sheet being tossed in the air. Her laughter was usually full of color and loaded with weight. Nash got up to clean his bowl, wondering what his like for oatmeal cookies said about him but unwilling to ask.
“If your sister was in trouble, how far would you go to help her?” Kenzi asked.
Nash turned on the disposal and waited for the oatmeal to disappear down the drain. He leaned both hands on the counter to help support his weight. “I’d go as far as I needed to. If Melanie needed me, I’d be there.”
“I should be more like you.”
Nash’s head began to ache with a guilty weight. He’d been out of prison for a month and hadn’t made an effort to contact either of his siblings. “No. You should be the opposite of me.”
“But you just said—”
The need to share his burden was greater than the need to hide his shame. “The truth is, Kenzi, I wouldn’t know if my sister needed me or not. I haven’t seen her in over two years, and I haven’t tried to call in longer than that.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s better off without me.”
Kenzi’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Did they say that? That’s a horrible thing to tell someone. Why would they say something like that?”
“Because it’s true.” He pushed off of the sink, his appetite gone. “I’m going to head into town.” He hurried to the mud room.
“Wait!” Kenzi called after him. She slid across the floor in her socks and slammed into the back of him. “Ugh. Sorry!” She swiped a piece of hair away that had stuck to her lip gloss. “Nash, you are one of the smartest, nicest people I know. Don’t let your family tell you any differently.”
Nash soaked up the honesty Kenzi poured into her statement. She truly believed what she said. Which only showed what a horrible person he was. If he was smart and nice, he’d have told her about his past. Instead, he selfishly locked the information away so that he could receive some of Kenzi’s goodness in his life.
He brushed the back of his finger across her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she smiled. “Thank you for believing that about me.”
“But you don’t believe it about yourself?”
“I can’t.” He stepped away, wrenched the door open, and shut it quickly behind him.
Three weeks. He had three weeks left with Kenzi until the vote and he had two options.
One: He could come clean. It was unlikely that she’d kick him out of the house or turn her back on him at this point. He was engrained into the plan and she needed him. But she wouldn’twanthim.
Two: He could pretend to be the man she believed in and ride away on his horse, knowing she still wanted him.
He revved the engine on the way out of the driveway, knowing full well he was going with option two. “I’m a jerk.”
