Quit Me If You Can

30. Kennedy

30

KENNEDY

W hen we’re not at work, we go on dates. We have the most unforgettable nights ever witnessed by the moon and stars. Nights so breathtaking that they actually manage to put everything we did and shared as a younger couple to shame.

And we talk. Sometimes we talk until the sun rises.

“So, have you been back to Oliver’s cabin?” I ask. My heart flutters at the thought.

“Not since… well, you know. Just didn’t feel right without you.”

“I still remember the red hammock my aunt gifted us. Do you?”

“How could I forget? You spent half the day lounging in it instead of helping me find firewood.”

“Cade! That’s not true! It was always you hogging the hammock. I distinctly remember attempting to wrestle you off. You were practically glued to the fabric.”

He laughs. “Lounging was a far more appealing option. Plus, who wouldn’t want to feel like a kid again, right?”

“Not when it got so cold!”

“Well, you should have cuddled in with me.”

“It’s not like I didn’t try. Both of us barely fit, as it was.”

“True. We were practically sardines in there.”

“Especially with that huge blanket you found in the cabin.”

“That was full of moths.”

“Yuck, stop!”

His expression softens. “I still think about those days a lot.”

“My aunt even gifted us a bigger hammock so we could both fit, when I told her,” I say quietly, a lump forming in my throat. “Oh, I miss her.”

“I remember how close you two were. She was a good sport. She always knew how to make you laugh.”

“I can still hear her laughter. I miss it so much. Hansi’s doing okay, though. He’s been living at my mom’s place since… well, you know.”

He nods, understanding. “He’s a good pup. I’m sure he keeps your mom on her toes.”

“Only when he’s awake. Otherwise, he’s a fuzzy pillow with legs.”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“Cade! Stop!” I laugh, giving him a playful shove.

He just gives me that cute, teasing “but am I right?” look.

“Okay, okay, fine, maybe we’re both experts at doing nothing. And looking adorable while doing it. I’ve never been the ‘pretend I’m an outdoor girl’ type. I’m a total homebody, plain and simple. Still… I miss our little adventures together. They were just so spontaneous and fun.”

Cade leans in. “Thinking about taking a ride with me again?”

“Maybe,” I say, a smile creeping onto my lips.

“I bet I can keep you warm.”

“I bet the blanket is really moth-eaten by now.”

“Well, I’d keep you warm with a hot cocoa,” he insists, “and besides, you owe me for all those times I saved you from the bears.”

“Bears? You mean the time you yelled ‘boo’ at the raccoon rummaging through our snacks? That hardly qualifies as a bear encounter.”

“ Hey . And I’ll have you know, raccoons are just as scary.”

“I know . I shrieked so loud I’m still surprised I didn’t scare it off for good!”

“Honestly, I think you did,” he says. “I saw it grabbing its tiny suitcase, heading for the door.”

“Well, if I scared off the raccoon, it means you owe me , not the other way around.”

We look at each other, grinning.

“You know,” he says softly, “I could get used to this. Us, right here, just like before.”

“Me too,” I reply, my heart racing.

“Have you told him how you feel?” Harper asks one evening while we’re just hanging out and indulging in strawberry ice cream (our go-to comfort food for heart-to-heart chats).

Harper wasn’t thrilled when she found out Cade and I had started sleeping together, but being the good friend she is, she promised she’d stick around for whatever damage control I was going to need. She also promised to bring the chocolate to soothe our souls (yes, mine and hers) in the aftermath.

If my hands weren’t busy with a spoon and this tub of melting deliciousness, I’d cross my arms. “Nope, I’ve been too chicken to spill the beans about how I truly feel. I think he knows.”

“If you haven’t told him, he doesn’t know shit. He’s a man.” She licks her spoon. “Right?”

“Right.”

“He’s got a dick, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. A man with a dick is wired pretty simply. You know this, or you should. You have to be clear and precise. No complicated overly long sentences or you’ll confuse him. Avoid subordinate clauses. Use short sentences. Keep it really plain, no exceptions. Say his name so he knows you’re talking to him. For example: Cade, I’m still in love with you.”

I snort-laugh. “Nice example, but I’m worried if I so much as breathe the wrong way, this is all going to evaporate again.”

“So what? Worst-case scenario? He pops up out of nowhere and tells you it’s over. And even if that does happen, you survived it once. You can live through it again. No biggie.”

Barely , I think. I barely survived it before.

“But this time, you tell him: ‘Fuck you, you motherfucker,’ and you kick him in the crown jewels. With gusto.”

I chuckle, imagining the scene. I kinda like the visual.

“And you know what?” I say. “I’ll borrow your twelve-inch heels for extra impact.”

“That’d really leave a mark.”

“Exactly.”

Harper laughs, almost dropping her tub of ice cream. “You do that, and I’ll be there with popcorn and a front-row seat. But first, let’s unwind with some yoga. Go grab your mat.”