Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Elizabeth
I wouldn’t claim to be someone who withheld judgement, though I did have a fairly even keel.
That said, I’d instantly disliked Kenny’s family when we saw them in Vegas, purely based on his reaction to them. One thing in this scenario was true—Kenny must be protected at all costs.
Bruce, Adam, and Stone had clearly felt the same way. I’d never seen Bruce interact with civilians in any way other than somewhere firmly in the cordial-to-charming range, but he’d been borderline stoic with Kenny’s family.
And Stone had looked like he was contemplating murder. He had such a somber face to begin with though, maybe that’d just been his thing in general? The nickname certainly fit.
Kenny’s willingness to meet them for dinner after everything he’d told me made me want to scream .
And also hug him.
And if I was already hugging, I might as well kiss him, right?
I did none of those things since we were standing there with my temporary, and his actual, boss, and we’d never gotten to the point of discussing what the heck we were doing in the wake of our reality-altering kiss. Maybe that was for the best, because I didn’t want to make plans right now. What I wanted was to make sure his family did nothing to harm him, and the roaring need to protect him wasn’t about to go away anytime soon.
But I did make sure I got an invite to dinner, too. His family had told him to invite friends as they waved and made a big thing of seeing him later as they all piled into their car and Kenny stared after them like he’d been through a tornado.
Bruce, Adam, Stone, and I had all waited for him to react. But he just watched them drive away, turned to us, and said, “This’ll be interesting,” and strode into the building.
Nothing had ever been more unsettling in my life than that man having virtually no reaction to his weirdo jerk family showing up out of nowhere and wanting to take him to dinner.
“I’m coming with you,” I called after him, to which he turned and gave me a small smile I chose to interpret as acceptance. Bruce, Adam, Stone, and I shared a look, and then we followed him inside.
A ball would be dropping, and I would be there to watch… or catch it if need be.
After a very slow workday in which I questioned everything from my choice to wear a suit to my choice to come to Silverton to Kenny’s family’s sudden and very oddly timed appearance, I trod home in the chilly winter afternoon. A quick change of clothes came first, and then I checked my personal email and caught up on texts that’d come in. I typically stored my personal phone during work hours, and the habit persisted here even though most parts of Saint Security’s building allowed for phones.
I promised Jo I’d be at the book club gathering on Saturday, then grabbed a jacket and headed to Guac. I’d hardly seen Kenny the rest of the day and when I’d left around four, he’d still been working away at his computer. He’d simply nodded and said, “See you then,” when I’d told him I was going home to change and relax a bit before dinner with his family.
It all had me on edge. The whole situation just seemed supremely sketchy, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that his family had come here to get something from him. They’d seen him with an A-list celebrity, so maybe they wanted to meet Jack? Or get his autograph or something? Seemed like a lot of work for that, though some people were enamored with fame.
Kenny stood just outside the building, gaze pinned to his shoes. His usual bounding energy was buttoned up inside whatever shroud of thought he was stuck in.
I was instantly and illogically furious the second I read the way his shoulders bowed inward instead of spreading broad and proud, the way he hunched in on himself like he might make himself smaller.
Kenny filled up a room just by entering it because he led with hard-won joy, and right now, his family’s presence here had stolen that.
“What can I do?” I said by way of greeting. Tell me what to do to make this easier for you.
He raised his head slowly, eyes sliding up my body and meeting mine. “Give me guac and call me pretty?”
A laugh burst out of me and my whole heart just glowed for him. “I can do that.”
He fluttered his lashes and grinned, but sobered quickly. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know what’s going on.”
I slipped my hand into his, grasping firmly to show him I was unequivocally on his team. “We’ll figure it out. And if all else fails, I’ll yell ‘fire’ and we’ll run.”
That gorgeous smile reemerged, and he nodded. “Deal.”
He squeezed my hand, then released it and took a big breath before charging forward into the restaurant. His family was already seated at a five-person round in a far corner. At least we weren’t right in the middle of the restaurant with more eyes on us. Apparently, even a Thursday night meant big business during ski season as every other table appeared to be full or sporting a little reserved sign on it.
“Glad you finally decided to show,” Glen Jr. said, leaning back with an arm around the empty chair next to him, a large margarita glass two-thirds empty.
I glanced at my watch—we were approximately two minutes early.
“Come sit, Ken. And, I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your name?”
His mother phrased this like a question with a sweet smile. I wondered whether she had actually forgotten it or if this was a way of putting me—or Kenny—in my place.
Kenny pulled out the chair next to his mother for me, then sat by his brother. Glen Jr. shot him a disgusted look I couldn’t fathom. In what universe did a person sleep with their brother’s fiancée and then act like their brother was the problem?
A waiter arrived instantly and took our orders since apparently Kenny’s family had been here for a while based on the empty chip baskets he refilled, and the drinks they’d clearly been working on. If it were just me and him, I’d request the tableside guac and we’d gorge ourselves on that before our entrees came, but I felt a sense of urgency to eat and leave, so I just requested a side of the stuff in case Kenny’s order didn’t suffice for him.
The small talk starting out was nothing short of painful. Kenny asked how G was and why he hadn’t come. This earned a fair amount of scorn from Glen Jr.
He started by swearing and indicating what an idiot he thought his brother was, then proceeded to say, “He has school, you genius.” More expletives used in completely unoriginal ways.
I’d become inured to foul language in my line of work—in fact, I could use it in several languages and mostly chose not to. But nothing bothered me so much as uncreative uses of swearing, which in my mind only proved someone’s low IQ.
“Right, of course,” Kenny said, his cheeks pinking just slightly.
“So why did you all come to visit now, when he couldn’t come, too?” I asked, because I wasn’t going to sit here and pretend like any of this was normal, and I didn’t even fully grasp how not normal it was .
Glen Sr., predictably, said nothing and took a sip of his beer. The food arrived before Mandee could chime in, and we all dove in like we’d been starved for weeks once each of us had our plates.
Or, Kenny and I waited until everyone else had theirs, but notably, the other Carmichaels dove in the second their plates touched the table.
It was an odd, superficial thing to notice, but I did. Their manners weren’t simply poor in terms of etiquette—who really cared about that? They were poor in terms of considering other people. This was primarily astounding because Kenny was a man who was so deeply considerate of others, it made no sense.
How on earth had he come from these people?
Even as I posted the question internally, I knew the answer. He’d chosen to be different, and he’d worked hard to. Maybe some of his past had forced the change, but he’d also made the choice to be grateful instead of bitter, kind instead of angry, and empathetic instead of cold.
He was honestly a miracle.
“So, how long have you been friends with Jack McKean?” Glen Jr. asked, mouth full of his queso-covered beef taco.
Kenny didn’t miss a beat. “He’s an acquaintance from work.” Technically, he couldn’t reveal he was a client due to confidentiality, but in this case, there wasn’t a ton of room for creativity.
“And your work is Saint Security, right?” his mom asked.
I narrowed my eyes, but kept my gaze on my food. As usual, the chicken chimichanga was illogically good, even in the face of this nonsense set up. I would miss this when I left .
“Yes. That’s the building where you guys were talking to some of my coworkers earlier.” Kenny’s voice had a twinge of… something in it. Curiosity?
Even now, he was leading with being curious about why they were here and clearly pretending not to know where he worked despite having been there hours ago. If it were me, I’d be leading with flame-throwing.
“Oh, that’s right, of course, silly me.” Mandee giggled and set a hand on her husband’s for a brief second, then removed it. “Seems like a very nice place.”
“Must get paid more than you did working for the government,” Glen Jr. said before shoving an entire hard-shell taco into his mouth.
His father grunted as though to second his brother’s comment, and Mandee chuckled. “Well, he must. That car he’s driving is certainly an upgrade from what he left town in.”
The dread that’d been building weighed heavy in my stomach. I wanted to take Kenny by the hand and lead him out of here before it got any worse because I could see where this was going, but he didn’t look shaken at all.
“You mean my nineteen ninety-eight Toyota Corolla I worked three years to afford? Yes, I did upgrade.” He took another bite, not looking away from his mother.
Her lips spread thin. “Well, this one’s nicer.”
His truck was nice, but nothing flashy. It wasn’t giant, and it didn’t have fancy rims or leather seats. All in all, it was modest, but very nice. Nicer than the car they’d all piled into, a beaten-up Chevrolet Blazer I’d guess was made at least twenty years ago.
“You got any sense you should give back to your family a bit? Maybe pay it forward for us giving you your start in life? ”
I had to hand it to him. Glen Junior was just begging to get his ass kicked, and I would proudly take that job pro bono.
When Kenny didn’t respond, his father spoke for the first time.
“You’ve always been a poor excuse for a man. An ungrateful little—” he swore, his foul mouth pulling into a sneer. “Least you could do is deign to step down off your high horse and help your people.”
And that’s when I dropped my fork, tossed my napkin on the table, and stood.