Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Kenny
T his week.
I’d thought I was worried about her calling everything off between us after I ran away on Friday, but this was worse. Had she initiated returning early? Was it really part of her job?
“It’s ultimately a good thing. They wrapped up the inquiry of the incident early and…” Her finger traced the edge of the table before she made eye contact again. “It just means I can get back to work. Back to real life.”
I nodded, swallowing down the objection rising in me like lava. “Right. Yeah. Well, congratulations on everything turning out well and… being done. I’m sure it’s a relief.”
The words were hollow, just like me. I felt so empty and almost cold hearing her news. I should’ve been a better friend, and genuine in my statement, but for now all I could offer was verbal support.
“Thanks, yeah. It’s… what I was anticipating, but you never know.”
“Okay, folks, breakfast is served.”
The waitress set down our plates, and I wondered how quickly I could eat and leave. I didn’t want to run away from Liz, but I didn’t know how to stay and do this—to chat like she wasn’t going to disappear from my life in a matter of days and leave me to go back to life before her.
What a stupid, stupid ending. I officially hated this story.
“This looks great,” she said, smiling up at the waitress, though there was strain at her eyes and in the set of her jaw.
We ate for a minute or two, forks tinking against our plates and the quiet between us utterly gutting. As the food hit bottom and I took a minute to breathe through the bad news of her now-imminent departure, I saw a better way.
“I’ve been over here feeling sorry for myself, and I shouldn’t be. But it’s just because you’re so great, and I’m going to really miss you when you’re gone.” I wouldn’t confess everything, but I didn’t need to be cold. That simply wasn’t me.
But I needed to let her go without dragging her down. I wouldn’t be a source of regret or hardship for her. I wouldn’t stifle that part of her that needed the work and focus of her career.
“I’m going to miss you, too, Kenny. So much.” Her eyes filled, but tears didn’t run over right away. She pressed her lips together and her chin wobbled before one tracked down her cheek.
My hand shot out and I wiped away the tear, savoring the chance to touch her even in this small way. My gut clenched at the realization that this was amongst the last times. Even if I touched her a hundred more times, we were barreling toward the end, and I hated that.
“Please don’t cry or you’re gonna make me cry. You know I don’t mind all that much, but if I start, I don’t know how I’ll stop, and then Beast’ll get all pissy and Cookie will probably hug me and make it all worse.”
She chuckled and sniffed, then took her napkin to dab at her eyes. “Sorry. I’m fine. And if you were just a little less wonderful, it’d be much easier to go.”
If I were a little less in love with you, it’d be much easier to let you.
But I wouldn’t say that.
This was a woman who knew her mind. She’d explored what small town life was like and seemed to enjoy aspects of it, but she had a mission. She had a sense of purpose I couldn’t contend with, nor would I want to. I admired her drive and her need to serve in a way she was uniquely suited to.
But damn if I didn’t wish there was another way forward.
“Well, what do you say we finish up here and get to work. We’ll see if there’s an all-hands and if not, we can go drive by Jack’s and check on him and Evie, just to be sure,” I proposed.
She finished chewing another bite of food, then wiped her mouth and tossed her napkin down. “Let’s do it.”
An hour later, we’d checked in with everyone and found out the all-hands would be a working lunch, so we opted to go visit Jack and Evie right away. They were both fine, and Jack’s agent or someone had already alerted him he’d heard rumblings from press people he followed that there was a rumor Jack was moving to Silverton so they weren’t shocked or even scared. Evie wasn’t feeling great so we didn’t stay long, and after a little admin work, I joined everyone else in the conference room just in time to see Bruce, then Wilder, then Tristan giving Liz handshakes before everyone took their seats.
She knows.
The realization hit like a fist to my solar plexus, the air vanishing from my lungs. I stumbled to my seat and tried to keep my mind on the meeting at hand. I summoned a laugh at the right time, chewed the tasteless sandwiches catered for the lunch, and ignored the pointed looks from nearly everyone at the table who could read me like a paperback.
The meeting wrapped up with one final, devastating comment from Bruce.
“A huge thanks to Elizabeth, who generously stepped in to bridge the gap for a while here. We’ve loved having you and whenever you’re ready to retire and give up your life as a spook, we’re here for you.”
He smiled his pearly grin and gave Liz a nod, which she returned. Everyone clapped for her and I had the oddest urge to scream at all of them.
Her eyes met mine as she left her seat, our gazes locking like they so often did before she blinked away. Was it pain I’d seen? Anger? Weariness?
Someone’s hand clapped me on my back.
“Jo’s going to take it hard, too. Sorry, Barbie.” Adam’s consolation was genuine, and I could only imagine how Jo would feel. She’s just had a glimpse of life with the sister she so dearly loved, and now it was disappearing again.
My heart ached, but I also felt embarrassed I hadn’t really thought of other people losing out on time with Liz, too. Her sister, father, and all her stepsiblings and nephews and… heck, even Wilder would likely miss her in two ways, as a stepsister and as an employee .
“Guys’ night on Wednesday?” Cookie asked, his demeanor subdued.
“Yeah. Sounds good,” I said, clearing the gravel with a rough sound and offering him a flaccid smile.
“I’ll let Stone know.” With that, he left the room, and I followed him out, stopping only when Bruce’s voice reached me.
“You’ll be okay,” he said, giving me one of those patented Bruce Camden looks that held so much weight and faith in me.
My throat had tightened again, so I cleared it. “Yeah. I guess that’s the option.”
His kind, familiar smile greeted me when I glanced up again.
“It is indeed. And we’re all here for you, no matter what.”
We went our separate ways, and I wandered back to my little office, avoiding looking into Liz’s temporary one when I passed. I didn’t want to see her packing up stuff. I didn’t want to know if she’d already left for the day.
It was a few hours later when she knocked on my door. I stood instantly, heart hammering the second I saw her.
“Hey,” I said, somehow winded just by looking at her. She wore her hair in her signature bun and had on a button-up and gray slacks. I had the inane thought that I was glad I got to see her dressed like this because it’d be easier to imagine her back at work in a few days.
“Hey. I’m heading out.”
I squinted. “Good. Yeah.” I rounded my desk, summoning whatever bravery I could find. “I just want to say I’m glad you came here. I’m grateful for the time we had together. And I hope you have a beautiful life.”
Her lashes fluttered and she sniffed. “Thank you. But, hey, I’ll see you again, right? I don’t leave until Wednesday. I’ve got stuff lined up with family and everything, but I’d love to see you at least one more time.”
I forced a chuckle. “Of course. I’d love that. And I hope you enjoy the time with family. I’m sure Jo has something fun planned.”
This was all so surface level. So mundane and it felt like such a waste.
It felt like my heart was army-crawling its way up my throat.
She smiled, too. “Yeah. I’ve got to eat as much Mexican food as possible in the next few days.”
We talked another minute, lame small talk stuff, and then she left.
I sat back down at my desk and stared at the screen, willing myself to find something to do to channel this genuine angst trying to choke out my good sense.
What I’d said was true, though. I was grateful. Even now, the agony of this distance growing between us, both emotionally and physically, I was grateful for every second she spent with me.
Eventually, I’d sit here and not think of her standing in my doorway. At some point, I’d look up at Silver Ridge Peak and not think of the times we’d spent in my back yard by the fire with the stars overhead and the shadowy mountains setting the scene.
Someday, maybe I’d want to touch someone else, and want to be touched. I’d long for a kiss from someone who wasn’t her. I’d hope for a future with someone else.
And for now, I’d let it hurt, because I knew what happened if I didn’t.