7. Whispers and Wounds
7
WHISPERS AND WOUNDS
KENZIE
I smooth the wrinkles from a faded band t-shirt, my fingers tracing the worn fabric. The shop hums with quiet energy, starkly contrasting the chaos swirling in my mind. It's been almost a month since I stumbled into Silver Ridge, and some days, I still can't believe I'm here.
The bell above the door chimes, and two blurs of energy burst into the shop, all giggles and flying curls.
"Miss Kenzie! Miss Kenzie!" Harper's voice rings out as she skids to a stop in front of me. "You won't believe what we saw!"
Hazel follows close behind, her eyes wide with excitement. "It was so cool!"
I crouch down, bracing myself for impact as they crash into me with twin hugs. "Well, hello there, troublemakers," I laugh, ruffling their hair. "What's got you two all fired up this morning?"
Hazel launches into a breathless tale of their latest adventure on the mountain. "Daddy took us on an adventure, and we saw a real live bear! It was huge!"
"Not that huge," Harper chimes in, rolling her eyes. "It was just a baby."
"Still a bear!" Hazel insists. "And we saw a deer! It was this close!" She holds her hands about a foot apart, her eyes wide.
I laugh, picturing the scene. "Sounds like quite the adventure. Your daddy let you get close to a bear?"
"No way," Hazel says. "He made us stay super far back and be real quiet."
"Smart man," I murmur, a warmth spreading through my chest at the thought of Everett keeping his girls safe. "Wow, that sounds amazing. Did your daddy take pictures?"
"Uh-huh!" Harper nods. "He said we could print them out and make a scrapbook!"
As the girls chatter on about their adventure, I can't help but picture Everett leading them through the woods, patient and protective. It's a side of him I haven't seen much of, but one that's clearly adored by his daughters.
"And then," Hazel continues, practically bouncing with energy, "we found this really cool rock that looked just like a heart! Daddy said we could keep it!"
Harper nods solemnly. "He said it was a sign that the mountain loves us."
My heart melts a little at that. Who knew the gruff, standoffish Everett Logan had such a soft side?
"That's beautiful, girls," I say, meaning every word. "Your daddy sounds like he knows how to have a good time."
The twins continue telling me about their hike, and I notice the differences between them. Harper uses all energy and big gestures, while Hazel uses quieter, and her words are more carefully chosen. Harper does most of the talking, and Hazel gives the critical details. It's like watching a live-action version of Kendrick and me at that age.
I feel a pang in my chest, remembering my own childhood. Meme was always there for us, but my mamma... well, that's a whole other story.
"Miss Kenzie?" Harper's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "Do you wanna see the rock?"
I smile, pushing away the memories. "Of course I do, sweetie. Show me what you've got."
As Harper digs through her little backpack, pushing past her sketchbook. I quietly catalog their differences. Hazel’s all energy and enthusiasm, while Harper’s quieter, more thoughtful. But they both have that same spark of curiosity, that love for adventure.
"Here it is!" Harper holds up a smooth, heart-shaped stone, her eyes shining with pride.
I take it gently, turning it over in my hands. "It's beautiful, Harper. You're right. It does look just like a heart."
Harper leans in. "Daddy says we should always keep our eyes open for the magic around us. Even in boring old rocks."
I laugh, handing the stone back to her. "Your daddy's a smart man. There's magic everywhere if you know how to look for it."
As I say the words, I realize how true they are. Even here in Silver Ridge, where I've faced more judgment and whispers than I care to admit, there's still magic. It's in the way Steph and Big Bear look at each other, in the excitement of the twins over a simple hike, long walks in the park around the lake.
"Miss Kenzie?" Hazel's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "Can you teach us how to fold shirts like that? Daddy says ours look like crumpled napkins."
I snort. "Sure thing, sweetie. Come on over here."
As I guide their little hands through the motions, I can't help but think about Everett. The girls paint a picture of a man so different from the gruff, standoffish guy I've encountered. The way they talk about him, eyes shining with adoration... it's clear he's a good father.
"Your daddy sounds pretty great," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Hazel beams. "He’s the best!"
"Yeah," Harper adds softly. "And he gives the best hugs when we're sad."
Something twists in my chest. I push it down, focusing on the task at hand. "That's real special, girls. You're lucky to have him."
A comfortable silence falls as we work, broken only by the occasional giggle or question. After a while, curiosity gets the better of me.
"So," I start, keeping my tone light. "What about your mom? Does she join y'all on these adventures?"
There's a beat of silence, and I immediately regret asking. But then Hazel shrugs, her voice matter-of-fact. "Nah, Jillian’s in Germany. She's real busy with her job in the Army."
Before I can process Hazel calling her mother by her first name, she walks off to put away a stack of folded clothes.
Harper lingers, her eyes downcast.
"You okay, sweetie?"
"Mommy doesn't really like the mountains or Silver Ridge," she says quietly. "Or us, I think."
My heart cracks wide open.
She looks up at me, her eyes big and serious. "I miss her sometimes," she says softly. "But Daddy says it's okay to be sad as long as we remember she loves us."
Without thinking, I pull her into a tight hug. "Oh, honey," I murmur. "Your daddy's right. And you know what? It won't always be like this. Things change, people change. Who knows? Maybe your mom will come home soon."
As I hold her, memories of my own childhood flood back. The ache of watching my mother walk away, time and time again. The confusion, the hurt, the feeling of not being enough. I blink back tears, determined not to let Harper see.
"You girls are pretty amazing," I say, pulling back to look her in the eye. "Any mamma would be lucky to have you."
Harper nods against my shoulder, then pulls back with a small smile. "Thanks, Miss Kenzie. You give good hugs, too.”
I laugh, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. "Well, thank you, Miss Harper. You're not so bad yourself."
She gives me a watery smile, and I kiss her forehead. "Now, how about we see if we can fold a whole pile before your sister gets back?"
I stand up, my mind whirling. The girls' situation hits close to home, stirring up memories I'd rather forget. I know all too well what it's like to have a mother who's there but not really there .
As we settle into a rhythm, I can't help but marvel at how quickly these girls have wormed their way into my heart. It's dangerous, getting attached when I know I can't stay. But watching them laugh and work together, I can't bring myself to regret it.
The shop door swings open again, and I tense as Steph walks in, followed by her husband, Big Bear. Their easy affection is obvious as they move around each other, a well-practiced dance.
"Morning, sugar," Steph calls out, her warm smile easing some of the tension in my shoulders. "How's business today?"
"Quiet," I reply, gesturing to the twins. "But I've got some help now."
Big Bear chuckles, the sound rumbling through the shop. "Those two? More like double trouble, I bet."
The girls giggle, clearly used to his teasing. I watch as he scoops them both up in a bear hug, their laughter filling the air. It's a picture of family, of belonging, that makes my chest ache with longing.
Steph sidles up to me, her voice low. "You doing okay, honey? You look a little worn out."
I force a smile. "I'm fine, Miss Steph. Just... adjusting, I guess."
She gives me a knowing look. "The town still giving you trouble?"
I shrug, not wanting to burden her with my problems. But Steph's always been able to see right through me.
"Don't you let them get to you," she says firmly. "They don't know you like we do."
Her words warm me, but they can't quite chase away the chill of doubt. The whispers follow me everywhere I go in this town. The sidelong glances, the hushed conversations that stop when I walk by. It's like being back in high school, only worse because I'm supposed to be a grown-ass woman now.
As if summoned by my thoughts, I catch a glimpse of Paige and her crew through the shop window. They're across the street, heads bent together, no doubt plotting their next move to make my life miserable.
I stiffen, bracing myself for another confrontation. But Big Bear steps into view, his massive frame blocking the window.
"Don't give 'em the satisfaction," he rumbles, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're worth ten of them girls, easy."
I blink back tears, touched by his unwavering support. "Thanks, Big Bear."
He nods, then turns to the twins. "All right, munchkins. Who wants to help me organize the tool section?"
As they scamper off, chattering excitedly, I take a deep breath. These people—Steph, Big Bear, the twins—they've shown me more kindness in a month than I've known in years. But I can't shake the feeling that it's temporary. That sooner or later, the other shoe will drop.
I glance over at Steph, who's watching me with a knowing look. She gives me a reassuring nod, and I feel a rush of gratitude for her silent support.
The bell over the door jingles again, and I turn, expecting to see another customer. Instead, my stomach drops.
Paige saunters in, flanked by her usual crew. Her eyes lock onto me, cold and calculating.
"Well, well," she drawls, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "If it isn't the town's favorite charity case."
I force a polite smile. "Good morning, Paige. Can I help you with something?"
She laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. "Oh, honey. I think you've helped enough, don't you?"
I bite my tongue, reminding myself that the twins are within earshot. But before I can respond, Steph's voice rings out, sharp and clear.
"Come in here with that bull, and I’ll be the one to finish it."
Paige's eyes narrow, but she knows better than to cross Steph. With a final glare in my direction, she turns on her heel and stalks out, her posse trailing behind her.
As the door slams shut, I let out a breath. The encounter leaves me shaken, bringing back all the doubts and insecurities I've been trying to push down.
Harper's little face peeks around the corner, her hazel eyes wide with concern. "My Daddy says 'mean people finish last.'"
I smile at her innocent wisdom. "Your daddy's a smart man."
Hazel pops up beside her sister, a mischievous glint in her mismatched eyes. "Then they should end dead last."
The shop erupts in laughter, Big Bear's deep chuckle mixing with Steph's melodic giggle. Even I find myself joining in, the weight on my chest lifting just a little.
"Out of the mouths of babes," Steph says, wiping a tear from her eye.
I crouch down, opening my arms to the girls. They don't hesitate, crashing into me with the force of two tiny tornadoes. The warmth of their little bodies wraps around me like a comforting quilt .
"You girls are something else," I murmur, squeezing them tight.
Harper beams while Hazel looks thoughtful. "Miss Kenzie, why are those ladies so mean to you?"
My smile falters. How do I explain small-town politics and adult drama to six-year-olds?
"Sometimes," I start carefully, "adults don't always behave the way they should. But that's their problem, not yours or mine."
"But it's not fair!" Hazel protests, her little face scrunching up in righteous indignation.
"You're right, it's not," I agree. I toy with her sparkle headband, brushing a stray curl back. "But you know what? We can't control how other people act. We can only control how we respond."
Harper nods solemnly. "That's what Daddy says, too."
A sharp twinge—envy? Longing? It cuts through me when I mention Everett. Despite our rocky start, it’s clear he’s raising these girls right.
"Why don't we tackle the toy section too? I bet we can find some real treasures in there." Big Bear motions, and the girls' faces light up. They scamper off after him, their earlier concerns forgotten in the promise of adventure.
I watch them go, a bittersweet ache forming within me. These moments—the easy laughter, the warmth of belonging—they're dangerous. They make me want to stay, to build something real here.
But I can't. I won't.
"You okay, honey?" Steph's gentle voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I straighten up, plastering on a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "I'm fine."
Steph sidles up beside me, her voice low. "You're good with them, you know. They adore you."
I force a smile, pushing down the surge of emotions her words bring. "They're sweet kids. Makes it easy."
She gives me a knowing look but doesn't push. Instead, she pats my arm and follows Big Bear and the girls.
As I turn back to my work, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the shop window. The woman staring back at me looks tired and wary.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of folding clothes, arranging displays, and fielding questions from curious customers. More than once, I catch whispers and sidelong glances, but I hold my head high. Let them talk. I know the truth.
As closing time approaches, the bell over the door chimes. I look up, expecting to see another customer, but instead, I find myself face-to-face with Everett Logan .
My breath catches in my throat. He fills the doorway, all broad shoulders and brooding intensity. His gaze scans the shop before landing on me, and I feel a jolt of... something that unsettles me.
"Daddy!" The twins' excited voices break the tension. They rush past me, throwing themselves into their father's arms.
Everett's stern expression softens as he scoops them up, and I catch a glimpse of the man the girls adore. It's gone in an instant, replaced by that impassive mask as he sets them down and turns to me.
"Miss Duncan," he says, his deep voice causing an involuntary shudder through my body. The man is all kinds of fine in his worn denim and boots. "I hope the girls weren't any trouble."
I shake my head, forcing a polite smile. "Not at all, Mr. Logan. They were a big help today."
He nods, his gaze intense. "Good. That's... good."
An awkward silence falls between us, the air thick with the charged weight of her lingering gaze and the subtle shift of my stance, like static crackling between us.
My heart races as I take in the way Everett stands before me, his rugged features framed by the soft light streaming in from the shop’s window. There’s an intensity in his blue eyes that makes it hard to breathe, and my body responds with an unexpected warmth that pools low in my stomach.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt, feeling the soft fabric beneath my fingers, a poor distraction from the heat rising in my cheeks. I fight the urge to fill the quiet with nervous chatter, to break the spell that has wrapped around us.
But every time I open my mouth, I remember his voice, deep and steady, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. It’s a voice that holds quiet strength and unspoken reassurance, a balm for the emotional wounds that I often struggle to disguise. I find myself reminiscing about our conversation from last week, a moment that feels both sacred and vivid in my mind.
I can still picture the way he leaned in slightly, that attentive look in his eyes as he softly asked, “How are you doing, Kenzie?”
The concern etched on his face was genuine, peeling back the layers of my defenses. Just for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world, the noise of Silver Ridge fading into a distant hum.
Our conversation was flowing seamlessly until the jarring laughter of Paige and her mean girls shattered the moment like glass breaking on concrete, and in an instant, the connection we shared felt violated.
I could sense the shift in the atmosphere—the lightness replaced by tension—and the way Everett’s features hardened in response to their intrusion.
They had interrupted something special, a budding connection that had felt so right just moments before. But even more potent was the burgeoning attraction that I hadn’t fully acknowledged until that day: the way he made me feel—safe, seen, and understood.
I steal a glance at him, noting the way his broad shoulders seem to fill the doorway, a strong silhouette that makes my pulse quicken.
Thinking back to that encounter, my heart flutters, stoking a longing within me. I wish I could recapture that feeling, the warmth of his gaze, the way my laughter blended with his deep chuckle. My skin tingles at the thought of how he seemed so effortlessly to draw me out of my shell, making me forget that I'm not wanted here.
Just like I wasn't wanted by my mother.
Same tune. Different station.
But I guess reality adjusted Everett's stance. Because those walls are back, his grumpy demeanor returned with a vengeance. And once again, I was left alone.
There's a faint hint of cologne, earthy and intoxicating, that washes over me when the breeze from the door swirls around. It pulls me in closer, making it hard to think clearly .
Was that connection even real, or just a fleeting moment of me grasping for anything, anyone, to feel less alone?
Everett shifts slightly, and the movement only heightens my awareness of him. The way his jaw tightens. I want to reach out, to touch that rigid jawline and see if the resolve crumbles beneath my fingertips.
Time stretches, and in this silence, I can almost hear his thoughts mingling with mine—a dance of desire laced with unspoken complications. All I can think about is the warmth of his touch and the protection that simmers just beneath the surface of his tough exterior.
I think this is what people mean when you're being eye fucked. Because I'm breathing heavily, and there's a tingling sensation that's crawling through my body whenever he's near.
Finally, Everett clears his throat. "Well, we should be going. Girls, say goodbye to Miss Duncan."
The twins throw themselves at me one last time, their little arms squeezing tight. "Bye, Miss Kenzie! See you tomorrow!"
As they pull away, I catch a flash of something in Everett's eyes. Yearning? Regret? But before I can decipher it, it's gone, replaced by that infuriatingly blank expression .
"Miss Duncan," he says with a curt nod, then turns and ushers the girls out the door.
I watch them go, a strange mix of emotions swirling in my gut. I want to send a sledgehammer through that man's walls to see if these feelings are one-sided. To beg Everett to see me as more than just the woman who almost ruined his friend's marriage.
But I know it's pointless. In his eyes—in the town's eyes—I'll be an outsider.
The homewrecker.
As the door swings shut behind them, I turn back to the empty shop. The silence feels oppressive now, weighing down on me like a physical thing.
I move to the register, counting out the day's earnings with mechanical precision. Each bill I sort is another step closer to freedom. Another day closer to leaving this town and all its judgment behind.
But as I work, I can't shake the image of the twins' smiling faces or the warmth of Steph, Mel. and Big Bear's acceptance. I've found people who see me— really see me. And the thought of leaving them behind... it hurts more than I want to admit.
I close the register with a sigh, leaning against the counter. The logical part of my brain knows I need to go. Silver Ridge will never truly be home, not with the cloud of suspicion hanging over me. But my heart... my traitorous heart wants to stay .
As I lock up the shop and step out into the cool evening air, I make a silent vow to myself. I'll save every penny and work every hour I can. And when I have enough, I'll leave this town in my rearview mirror.
But as Harper and Hazel's laughter float through my mind, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers, Are you sure about that?