Chapter 7
Kendall
Ihaven't slept. Not really. Every time I closed my eyes last night, I saw red paint dripping down walls, water flooding through doorways, and Brad's smug face.
So, when Jax knocks on my door at six-thirty AM with coffee and pastries from The Bean and Bagel, I'm already dressed and on my third cup of terrible instant coffee.
"You look exhausted," he says, studying my face with those annoyingly observant cop eyes.
"Thanks. Just what every woman wants to hear."
"I mean it. When's the last time you actually slept?"
"What year is it?"
He doesn't laugh. Instead, he sets the coffee and bagels on my counter and crosses his arms. "Get your purse."
"Excuse me?"
"We're going to breakfast. Real breakfast, not whatever sugar-loaded pastry I was planning to call a meal."
"I have work and you just brought pastries—"
"It's early. Nothing's on fire. Yet." He pauses. "Unless Brad's been busy overnight."
"Don't even joke about that." I grab my phone, checking for disaster alerts. Nothing. It’s a miracle.
"Come on. The Greenhouse Café has that French toast you used to love."
The casual reference to our past makes my chest tight. "That was a long time ago."
"The French toast or us?"
"Both."
He's quiet for a moment, then heads for the door. "The offer stands. You need real food and maybe... we should talk."
I should say no. I should maintain my boundaries, keep my distance, stick to my rules. But I'm tired, hungry, and honestly curious about what he thinks we need to talk about.
"Fine. But I'm not sharing my bacon."
"You never did." He smirks at me as he holds the door open.
The Greenhouse Café is mostly empty this early, just a few dedicated morning people and what looks like a construction crew grabbing coffee before work. The hostess seats us at a corner booth with a view of the marina, and I try not to think about how this used to be our spot.
"So," I say after we order—French toast for me, omelet for him, and yes, extra bacon that I will not be sharing. "What did you want to talk about?"
He fidgets with his coffee cup, and suddenly he looks eighteen again, nervous and uncertain. "About why I left."
"You got into the academy. You went to school in Dallas. It’s your dream job. End of story."
"That's not the entire story."
"Jax—"
"My dad was dying."
The words land between us like a bomb. I set down my coffee cup carefully, afraid I might drop it.
"What?"
"Pancreatic cancer. He was diagnosed right before graduation. The doctors gave him six months, maybe less." He stares out the window at the boats. "He'd been a cop his whole life. All he wanted was to see me follow in his footsteps."
"You never said—"
"He made me promise not to. You know how proud he was. Didn't want anyone's pity." Jax's jaw tightens. "He said if I didn't take the academy spot, if I stayed here for you, he'd die knowing he'd failed as a father."
My throat closes up. "Jax..."
"I should have told you, anyway. Should have trusted you to understand. But I was eighteen and scared and my dad was dying, and I thought—" He breaks off, finally meeting my eyes. "I thought I could have both. Do the academy, make him proud, then come back to you."
"But you didn't come back."
"No. I didn't." He pushes his eggs around his plate. "By the time he died, eight months later, you'd already moved on. I heard you dated that guy from the bank."
"Rebound," I admit. "Lasted two weeks."
"Yeah, well. I didn't know that. And then I threw myself into the job, trying to justify the choice I'd made. Kept telling myself it was for the best. You deserved better than someone who'd leave when things got hard."
Our food arrives, but neither of us moves to eat.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "For all of it. For not trusting you with the truth. For leaving. For staying away for so long. It was the biggest mistake of my life."
I cut into my French toast, needing something to do with my hands. "I have three rules."
"Rules?"
"For my life. For protecting myself." I take a bite, barely tasting it. "Rule one. Never let emotion override logic. Rule two. Control what you can, accept what you can't. Rule three—"
"Never trust someone who's already proven they'll leave," he finishes.
I look up, startled.
"You said it the other day, when you thought I wasn't listening," he explains. "That third rule is about me, isn't it?"
"Not everything is about you, Jax."
"But that rule is."
I don't answer, which is answer enough.
"I get it," he says. "I broke your trust. Proved I'd choose something else over you. Why would you risk that again?"
"Why would I?" I agree.
He leans forward. "Because I'm not eighteen anymore. Because I learned the hard way that nothing—not a job, not family pressure, nothing—is worth losing someone you love. Because I've spent ten years regretting that choice every single day."
"Jax—"
"And because someone's threatening you, and I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you. Not again."
Before I can respond, my phone explodes with notifications. Not emergency alerts, thank god, but the Bad News Babes group chat going nuclear.
Grace: EMERGENCY MEETING. SOMEONE SAW KENDALL AND JAX AT GREENHOUSE CAFé!
Mia: Together?! Like TOGETHER together?!
Riley: Pics or it didn't happen
Brooke: I'm literally driving by right now. Stand by.
Charli: KENDALL MARIE GREENE YOU BETTER BE READING THIS
A photo appears in the chat—us, in the booth, leaning toward each other in what definitely looks like an intimate conversation.
Brooke: HOLY HIBISCUS THIS IS HAPPENING
Kate: FINALLY! Do you know how long Hudson's been waiting for this?!
Grace: Are they sharing food? That's basically married in Kendall-speak.
Mia: Look at how he's looking at her!
Riley: That's his "I want to climb her like a tree" face
Charli: KENDALL. RESPOND. NOW.
Kate: Give her a minute she's busy GETTING HER MAN BACK
Grace: $50 says they kiss before kickball Saturday
Brooke: $50 says they've already kissed
Mia: $100 says they do more than kiss before the game
Riley: Y'all need Jesus
Charli: Jesus would want Kendall to get some. It's been YEARS.
Kate: Remember when she dated that accountant?
Grace: That wasn't dating, that was community service
Brooke:
"Problem?" Jax asks, and I realize I'm making faces at my phone.
"The Bad News Babes have spotted us." I look out the window of the restaurant but I don’t see Brooke.
"And?"
I turn the phone so he can see the messages still pouring in.
Mia: Taking bets on wedding colors. I'm thinking sunset palette.
Riley: Summer or fall wedding?
Grace: Beach wedding for sure
Kate: Hudson wants to be invited to the bachelor party FYI
Charli: Can we focus on the fact that THEY'RE ON A brEAKFAST DATE?!
Brooke: Is sharing bacon considered foreplay? Asking for a friend.
Jax chokes on his coffee. "They're... enthusiastic."
"They're insane." I type a quick response.
Me: It's not a date. We're discussing the case.
Charli: Sure. "The case." Is that what we're calling it now?
Grace: Did he pay?
Mia: Is he in uniform?
Riley: ARE YOU SHARING BACON?
Kate: More importantly, are you playing Saturday? We need our pitcher.
Brooke: She'll be there. Walking might be difficult though .
Charli: brOOKE!
Brooke: What? Girl's been in a drought. Officer Tall Dark and Handsome is like rain in the desert.
Grace: More like a whole hurricane
Me: I hate all of you
Mia: But you love HIM
Riley: She didn't deny the bacon sharing!
Kate: Or the walking difficulty...
"Maybe I should confiscate your phone," Jax suggests, his ears red.
"Then they'd just show up here." As if on cue, I spot Charli's car pulling into the parking lot. "Too late. The cavalry has arrived."
But Charli doesn't come in guns blazing like I expect. She slides into the booth next to me, steals a piece of my bacon, I wasn't sharing with Jax, but best friend privileges apply, and gives him a look that could peel paint.
"You hurt her again, I'll make that goat situation look like a picnic. Clear?"
"Crystal," Jax says seriously.
"Good." She turns to me. "You okay? Heard about the flooding yesterday."
"I'm fine."
"She isn’t sleeping," Jax says, apparently choosing violence this morning.
Charli's eyes narrow. "Kendall—"
"I'm handling it."
"No, you're drowning in it. Let people help." She glances at Jax. "Let him help."
My phone rings before I can argue. It's Sarah Williams.
"Hi Sarah, is everything okay with your aunt?"
"Oh yes, she's fine. Actually, that's why I'm calling. We found a wonderful memory care facility here in Jacksonville, but I need help to organize her things for the move. I hate to ask, but—"
"I'll be there in an hour," I say immediately.
"Thank you so much. Aunt Helen keeps asking for you, anyway. Says you're the only one who knows where my uncle kept his reading glasses."
I end the call to find Jax and Charli both looking at me.
"I need to help Mrs. Parsons pack," I explain.
"I'm coming with you," Jax says.
"It's not dangerous. It's packing."
"Everything's dangerous right now until we catch whoever's doing this." His tone brooks no argument.
"He's right," Charli says, surprising me by taking his side. "Plus, you could use the help. Mrs. Parsons has lived there for what, twenty years? That's a lot of stuff."
She's not wrong. And honestly, the idea of sorting through decades of memories alone sounds overwhelming.
"Fine. But we're taking my car."
"Your car's covered in paint," Jax reminds me.
"Then we're taking a rental. That truck of yours still looks like a crime scene."
Charli slides out of the booth. "I'll spread the word that you're helping Mrs. Parsons. Maybe it'll make Valerie think twice about her next move."
"Since when has public opinion stopped Valerie?"
"Since the other night when half the town saw her get exposed for fraud." Charli grins. "I’m on my way to Miami but I’ll be back by this weekend. By the way, kickball's at ten on Saturday. You're pitching, Jax is joining The Walking Ladies in cheerleading."
"I didn't agree to—" Jax starts.
"Deal with it." She grabs another piece of my bacon and heads out. "Use protection! And I don't mean the bodyguard kind!"
I bury my face in my hands. "I'm never living this down."
"Could be worse," Jax says. "They could have shown up with a minister and a wedding cake."
"Don't give them ideas."
He laughs, and the sound takes me back to summer nights and stolen kisses and plans we made before everything fell apart.
"We should go," I say, signaling for the check. "Mrs. Parsons needs help."
"Kendall." He catches my hand as I reach for my wallet. "Thank you. For letting me explain."
"It doesn't change anything," I say, but my voice lacks conviction.
"Maybe not. But it's a start."
The group chat is still going strong as we leave.
Grace: They left TOGETHER
Mia: In the same car?!
Riley: Someone follow them!
Kate: That's stalking, Riley
Riley: It's aggressive concern
Brooke: If they show up to kickball holding hands, I win the pot
Charli: Pot's up to $500 now BTW
Grace: $500?!
Mia: The Walking Ladies added their bridge winnings
Me: I can see these messages
Kate: We know
Charli: GO GET YOUR MAN
Me: He's not my man
Brooke: Yet
Grace: Growth mindset, Kendall!
Riley: Positive thinking!
Mia: Manifest that officer!
Kate: Other verbs also acceptable
I silence my phone and find Jax waiting by a rental car he somehow procured in the five minutes I was dealing with the texting chaos.
"Ready?" he asks.
To help Mrs. Parsons? Yes. To forgive him? Maybe. To trust him again?
The jury's still out on that one.
But as we drive toward Mrs. Parsons' apartment, with him telling me stories about his dad I'd never heard before, I feel rule number three starting to crack.
And maybe that's not the worst thing in the world.