I don’t give a shit about what Jax or Tiffany thinks about me, but why do I care what Kenzie thinks?
"Kace." My father looks about as surprised at my presence as I am at his. I grit my teeth and hold my tongue. I will not acknowledge this man. Instead, I look to Jax who looks down at his feet. That fucking traitor. Trying to be the perfect husband-to-be by playing the ideal son.
“It’s so great to have the family together,” Emma pipes up. “So wonderful to see you again, Kace, and who is this lovely woman?” She holds her hand out to Kenzie.
I glare at Emma. How dare this whore refer to herself as family? My family.
“I’m Kenzie,” Kenzie offers. “Wonderful to meet you . . .?”
"Emma. I'm Kace's stepmother," she says, smiling brightly.
“The fuck you are,” I hiss.
“Kace,” Jax tries to subdue me.
"What, too fucking real for you, bro?" I stare at him dead-on, and he shifts his gaze.
I feel an arm on my shoulder, and I look down to see Kenzie's pleading eyes. I shrugged her off. "Forget it. Let's just get this over with."
I walk away from everyone, grab the fancy French champagne bottle from a waiter's tray, and step out of the room onto the porch. People litter around, and I receive a good many stares.
“Fuck off!” I shout and tip the bottle to my lips as I sit on the stairs.
"Kace." Her voice is small and unwelcome. Not now, not when I feel like this. When my chest is tight, and my emotions are unstable.
“What?”I demand.
She doesn’t even flinch, just sits next to me with a bottle of her own.
I nudge her shoulders, offering her a half smile. She is so much more trouble than I anticipated. Looking into her eyes, I feel my stress dissipate. How can a woman have this effect on me?
Chapter 10
Kenzie
When I was ten years old, I found my father sitting in the garden, his head hung low, his shoulders trembling. I'd heard them shouting. I listened to what my mother said to him, and I knew there was nothing I could say that could make him feel better. But I could not stand back and do nothing. My dad needed me. I ran into the house, picked my favorite doll, Anna, and ran back outside.
I said my silent goodbyes, thanked her for being my best friend besides Mac, and handed it to him. He looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Ken, what's this?"
“I think you should hold onto Anna for a bit, Dad.”
He sniffed and smiled. “But she’s your favorite.”
“She will never be more important than you, Dad. And she makes me smile. I know she’ll do the same for you.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “It’s you that makes me smile, Ken.”
He took the doll anyway, and she sits still in his office now. Has a special shelf. My weirdo doll, who I’d lost too many times to count, is one of his most prized possessions.
I walkout onto the porch, and by the way he shouted at those innocent guests, I know he is beyond reason. I have to get to him the only way I know how, by understanding that this is not something I have a clue about, but I can sit by his side anyway.
"He used to fuck Emma, you know. While my mother was sick at home. I'd come home, and she'd have cut herself, or she'd be overmedicated. I'd lean her up, vomit and all, and make sure there were no remnants of her illness. It was nothing physical." He laughs. "Oh, no. It was all in her mind."
It pains me to hear the sadness in his voice. I know this isn’t something he usually speaks about.
"Anyway, one day, I decided I'd stop getting into trouble. It hurt her more when he beat me when she had to see it and couldn't do a damn thing about it. I didn't want to hurt her, Kenz. I promised myself I'd protect her . . ."
I lace my fingers through his, and he brings our intertwined fingers to his mouth.
