Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, bright and insistent. Jaz squinted against it, disoriented. He reached for his phone on the nightstand. Nine thirty?
He’d slept nearly nine hours.
The smell of coffee drifted under the door, followed by the faint clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Kenzie was making herself at home. Maybe it should have felt intrusive, but it didn’t.
Jaz felt truly rested for the first time in months. Waiting for the other shoe to drop—and knowing it would hurt when it did—wasn’t exactly the path to restorative sleep.
He checked his phone for messages. Nothing from Wentz. No texts, no emails, no missed calls. Frustration simmered in his chest.
Wentz had bigger problems than one DEA informant chasing ghosts. Jaz was probably number five hundred on his priority list, hovering somewhere between low-level drug busts and his grocery list.
Jaz set the phone aside and swung his legs out of bed. The tile was cool under his bare feet.
Kenzie’s words about God still resonated with him.
He didn’t launch himself out of bed as he normally would.
Instead, he sat on the edge, staring at the sunlight pooling on the floor.
He didn’t know how to do this anymore. Didn’t know the right words or the right posture or whether God would even listen.
Whether He did or didn’t, praying wouldn’t hurt.
Kenzie had summed it up well. “Help is…helpful.” He grinned at the memory and his playful teasing. The woman was…marvelous.
He shook himself. Maybe he shouldn’t start a prayer thinking about a beautiful woman. Though, come to think of it, God must think pretty highly of her. So Jaz might have one tiny thing in common with the Creator of the Universe.
“I don’t know if You’re listening.” He spoke the words quietly, testing them in the empty room. “I don’t know if You still want to hear from me.”
There was no answer, but he didn’t get struck by lightning or feel the earth shake beneath his feet.
Seemed like a good sign. “I need help. We need help. Lead us to the truth. Show us what we’re missing.
I feel like we’re close, but You and I both know I’ve felt close before and been so wrong.
I can’t keep doing this. I need…” He blinked back the foolish emotion that filled his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do.”
His father’s voice echoed in his memory, words spoken a lifetime ago: “Do your best, trust God with the rest.”
He’d forgotten how to do that second part.
But maybe—maybe—it was time to remember.
“Just help me with all of it. I’m sure I’m doing it wrong.
Show me and…forgive me for…” He swallowed, more emotion leaking from his eyes.
There were so many things he needed to be forgiven for.
Maybe more than God was willing to forgive. But maybe not.
All those stories from childhood about Jesus, how he’d died for their sins. Jaz didn’t remember any limits on that. Maybe Jesus had died for all of them. Jaz had believed that at the time, even if it felt impossible.
But God could do impossible things.
“Help me find my way back to You. Protect my daughter and Noah and Delaney from all of this. And help me protect Kenzie. Help me…” There were so many things. “With all of it. Please. I trust… I’m trying to trust You.”
He sat there another minute, thinking maybe he’d hear some response or feel something different. He didn’t, but he wouldn’t be discouraged. It wasn’t as if God owed him a reply.
Jaz showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, then stepped into the short hallway, where the smell of food had joined the coffee. His stomach growled, reminding him of the pathetic cheese-and-cracker dinner.
He paused at the entry, watching Kenzie at the stove, stirring something in a pan. She’d changed into her cargo pants and a T—the clothes she’d worn on the Blue Fantasy. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was barefoot, completely at ease in his kitchen.
She was…beautiful. He’d known her face for a year or more, and he’d always thought she was attractive, but this was different.
Now, she was more than just a pretty face and a shapely body.
He knew her courage and her kindness. The night before, he’d told her the ugliest things about himself, and she’d received them with gentleness and understanding. She was…she was amazing.
And he needed to keep his head in the game because if anything could distract him from his goal, it was this woman. If only he had time for distractions.
“Morning.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Hope you don’t mind. I found some eggs.”
“Do I mind that you’re cooking? Not even a little.” He moved to the coffeemaker and poured himself a mug.
“I heard your shower so I started.” She turned back to the stove. “I also found the laundry room. Did a load. Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course.” He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. Black, strong, perfect. “Thanks.”
“I found frozen fruit in the freezer. I made smoothies.”
How had he slept through the blender? “Sounds great.” He studied her, this woman who’d been through hell and was now making him breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to.” She turned off the stove and slid omelets onto the plates, then pulled his blender pitcher from the freezer. She’d already blended the fruit. Now she just gave it a stir and poured it into glasses. “Let’s eat.”
They settled at the kitchen table, the morning light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The eggs were salty. The smoothie was sweet and cold.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“Okay.” She took a bite of her omelet. “Took a while to fall asleep, but I did.”
“Better than the hotel, I hope.”
“Yeah.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, like she’d had a thought that didn’t match up with her answer.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Jaz could sense something building in her, some weight she was carrying that wanted out. She kept glancing at him, then away. Opening her mouth like she wanted to say something, then taking another bite or sip instead.
He gave her time. Whatever it was, she’d tell him when she was ready.
They were finished with their omelets by the time she spoke. “I killed someone when I was fifteen.”
Jaz nearly choked on his smoothie. He set the glass down carefully, taking in those words and trying to make sense of them.
Kenzie stared at her plate, her hands folded in her lap.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Tell me about it.”
She took a breath. “I was at a sailing camp, a weeklong intensive for students who were already experienced sailors. I was the youngest person there. It was held on a college campus. Most of the students were gone, but a few were around. Summer school or whatever.”
Jaz stayed quiet, letting her find her words.
“There was an older boy, maybe nineteen or twenty. He wasn’t in the camp but helped out sometimes.
Friendly. He was interested in my sailing background, asked a lot of questions about where I’d trained, what boats I’d sailed.
” She picked up her glass, then set it back down.
“I was so much younger than the other students.
I got along with them, but I was the outsider.
The only Northerner at a Southern school.
Not even sixteen in a sea of college-aged kids.
“One night after practice, the rest of them had gone off to do something. I wasn’t invited.
Too young, they said. It made me feel…” Her eyes flashed with irritation.
“That was the story of my life. Four older sisters, all off doing things I was too young to do. I was hurt and annoyed and thinking I was old enough for whatever they were doing.” She paused and sipped her smoothie.
“Anyway, he found me sitting in the quad, by myself. Said he wanted to show me something, some article about racing. I didn’t really care about the article.
I was just happy to have someone to hang out with.
Someone older who didn’t think I was a child. ”
Jaz’s stomach tightened. He guessed where this was going, and he hated it.
“I was stupid and flattered that this college guy wanted to hang out with me.” Her voice stayed level, but her hands trembled slightly.
The silence stretched. Jaz wanted to reach across the table, to tell her she didn’t have to finish. But he didn’t. Sometimes, it helped to say the ugly things out loud.
“We went to his apartment. It was off campus. And…empty. When we were walking inside, I had that…you know that feeling, when you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t do, that you should turn and run. But I didn’t. I was embarrassed by my fear and feeling reckless.”
Jaz understood that feeling. He’d ignored it often enough—and paid the price.
He wanted to round the table, to sit beside her and be that human contact that had helped him so much the night before. But he feared if he moved, she’d stop talking.
He hadn’t prayed in years, but now that he’d opened the door, it was like his mind remembered what his heart used to know. That God was there and listening. He silently prayed for Kenzie now.
“We got to his room,” Kenzie said. “He opened the door for me. I stepped inside. As soon as the door closed behind me, I knew I was in trouble.” She was looking down, her hands on her lap. “His whole demeanor changed. He wasn’t friendly anymore. He was…” She swallowed hard. “He attacked me.”
Rage flared in Jaz’s chest. He clenched his fists in his lap.