Chapter Thirty-one
Carter
“It’s been worse than we anticipated,” Lincoln grumbles. “You of all people should know that better than anyone as you’ve always been more involved with the books.”
Present phone call aside, the past five days have been glorious.
At the very least, Kenna, Amelia, and I have eaten breakfast and dinner together, made the necessary repairs to our family of snowmen, and played every card and board game under the sun.
Christian participates when he emerges from bed, which is where he insists all teenagers enjoying snow days should be.
My days have been spent at the shop looking forward to the nights at home. Nights where I could pretend we were one big happy family. Cooking. Laughing. Playing. And even after all that good stuff, I got to have the best part—Kenna in my bed for a few hours.
While we’re not technically snowed-in anymore, there is still a lot of accumulation on the ground.
Fourteen inches to be exact. Despite that, business hasn’t been as good as I expected.
I only towed three cars on Monday, and my siblings reported similar numbers on their duty days, putting us down by nearly half of what business should be on snowy days.
Hence the current phone call ruining my perfectly good Wednesday evening.
“I’m aware,” I say into the phone perched next to the sink as I dry the dinner dishes.
“You still think it’s nothing to worry about?”
“I never said I wasn’t worried. I knew we’d take a hit, I just didn’t think it would be this bad.”
“Those motherfuckers,” Linc blasts. “Why, of all the times and all the places, did it have to be here and now? Just when we could see the light at the end of the tunnel. If we can’t make the balloon payment and have to refinance at today’s rates, we’re fucked.”
“I’ll go to the bank soon. See what our options are.”
“Why don’t you sound more upset about it? This is our business, Carter. Our livelihood. Our goddamn future.”
I put away the last dish. “I am upset. I’m just not dwelling on it.”
There’s silence and I glance at the phone to make sure I haven’t lost the call.
“It’s the girl,” he says. “Isn’t it?”
“Mind if we finish this conversation at work tomorrow? I have things to do.”
“Things like the girl?”
“Goodbye, Linc.”
I end the call, and turn around to see Kenna, arms full of tonight’s games, standing in the kitchen doorway. She walks to the table, sets down the games, and frowns. “How bad is it?”
Uncorking the bottle of wine we opened last night, I take it and two glasses to the table. “How bad is what?”
“The shop. Your business.” She looks embarrassed. “Sorry. I overheard the conversation. And I’ve heard bits and pieces of others you’ve had with your siblings. That other store is taking a lot of business away from you.”
“It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Based on the tone of Lincoln’s voice, it’s a lot to worry about. And maybe he’s right, I’ve been distracting you from what’s really important in your life. You should be focusing on that.”
I pour the wine, slide her glass across the table, and whisper, “I’m really good at multitasking, Kenna.”
She looks sad. “Your shop is Christian’s future.”
“Yeah, it is. But there’s only so much I can do. Worrying about it isn’t going to change things.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “And you worrying about it is unnecessary. You’ve got enough to worry about.”
She looks out the window. The sun is starting to set.
The kids are reshaping one of the snowmen’s heads.
The driveway has been cleared. The streets, too.
Both of us know our days are numbered, but neither of us has brought it up.
She’s going to be leaving soon. I see it in her stare.
Feel it in her kisses. Sense it in the way she makes love to me every night as if it’s the last time it will happen.
Will tomorrow be the day she leaves? Or perhaps this weekend?
At least I know she won’t leave without saying goodbye. Amelia has become so close to Christian, Bug, and me that Kenna would never do that to her.
“I know just what you need.”
I get the deck of cards, split it evenly, and flip one of mine over.
The smile that crosses her face is luminous. Because she knows that with every jack that appears, there will be a flirty touch. A sultry battle of hands. A new round of laughter. Who’d have thought a silly kid’s card game would become our love language.
The third time through the deck, my phone rings and Dax’s face appears on the screen.
“You should take that,” Kenna says. “I’m going to step outside and help the kids.”
Swiping to answer, I silently curse my brother for ruining one of my favorite times of day. Lincoln must have called him right after he talked to me.
“I’m going to tell you what I told Lincoln. There is exactly squat we can do about this right now.”
“Hello to you too,” Dax says.
“I just have better things to do than talk about this for the umpteenth time.”
I glance out the window into the back yard, focusing on those ‘better things.’ Next door, Allie emerges, holding up a steaming cup of something. Hot chocolate by the way Amelia is sprinting in her direction. All of them disappear into Allie’s house.
“We’ll have a family meeting at the store tomorrow. Discuss new ways of marketing and outreach. I’ll talk to John Walker at the bank soon, too. I’m sure it will be okay. Their novelty will wear off. It hasn’t even been three weeks.”
“Three weeks of at least a thirty percent drop in receipts.”
Headlights shine through the front window. “Dax, are you in my driveway?”
“Brother, I’ve had three whiskeys brooding over this. I’m not driving anywhere.”
“I have to go,” I say, walking to the front door. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I end the call and stare at the unfamiliar black Mercedes. Someone has obviously gotten the wrong address. I grab my coat, open the door, and intercept the guy as he gets out of his car, glancing around like he’s assessing the entire area.
“You lost?” I ask, an unwelcome feeling of dread climbing my spine.
“Carter Cruz?” the guy sporting a crew cut and business attire asks.
“Who’s asking?”
As I await his reply, several thoughts go through my head. This guy is older than Kenna for sure. Wrinkles around his eyes probably put him at forty at least. Maybe forty-five. Could it be her father?
I eye the expensive looking car and decide it’s probably not something a pastor with a distaste for excess would drive.
That leaves just one other option—Cyrus.
Even thinking his name has acid burning my throat. Does he have a gun? Will he hurt me to get to her? Will Kenna come out of Allie’s house and walk right into a nightmare?
Ready to tackle him when he reaches inside his coat pocket, I’m more than a little relieved when he presents me with a business card and not the business end of a gun. The card reads: Kent Lovell, Private Investigator. All his contact information is listed.
He holds out a hand. “Kent Lovell. And you’re Carter I presume?”
I don’t shake. “I’m not going to answer that until you tell me exactly why you’re here.”
“I’ve been hired to find Kenna Kelly… er”—his head shakes—“Bennett.” He steps toward the house. “Is she inside?”
I block him and try to look unaffected. “I don’t know anyone by either of those names.”
“Interesting. Because she obviously knows you. She had a delivery sent to this address last week.”
I harden my stance, squaring off with the man. “Delivery?” I shrug. “The only deliveries I get here are pizzas.”
He snorts laughter. “If that’s how you want to play this.”
“I’m not playing anything. And you’re trespassing, so I’d invite you to get the hell off my property.”
“Your property. I guess that would make you Carter Cruz.”
“Right now.” I point to his car and take my phone out of my pocket. “Or should I get the police involved?”
He holds up his hands. “Fine. I’ll leave. Please give Ms. Kelly a message.”
“As I don’t know a Ms. Kelly, I can’t do that. Now if I were you, I’d get in that fancy car of yours and leave.”
He looks at my house, and for a second I think he’s going to pile-drive me into the bushes and barge inside. I’m bigger than he is, but that doesn’t stop him from looking intimidating as fuck. But would a private eye really go so far as to resort to physical violence on behalf of a client?
He smacks his lips together, clearly frustrated. Then he turns, gets in the car, and backs out of the driveway. I don’t take my eyes off the car until it’s around the corner and I can’t see its tail lights anymore.
When I turn toward Allie’s house, a terrified Kenna is standing in her doorway. Her face as white as her snowman likeness, she races across the lawn, entering the basement by the rear French doors.
I enter through and lock the front door then run to the stairs. By the time I reach the bottom, she’s haphazardly throwing clothes and shit into suitcases.
“Kenna, what’s going on? Why was a private investigator looking for you?”
She stops and her jaw goes slack. “Private investigator? Is that what he said?” She swallows hard. “Carter, that was my ex. That was Cyrus.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Not necessarily because it was him, but because of her terrified reaction to him.
She starts packing again. “We’re leaving tonight. Now.”
I go over and put my hands on hers, hoping to stop the frantic movements. “Kenna, stop. Tell me what the fuck is going on. He said his name was Kent Lovell.”
She sits on the bed, head slumping into her hands. “That’s the name of the PI he uses.”
“Why wouldn’t he just tell me his name?”
She shrugs. “Maybe he thought you’d admit I was here, maybe even get me if you didn’t know it was him.” She looks up, eyes already rimming with tears. “Thank you for not ratting me out.”
“I would never,” I say, disappointed that she’d even think it a possibility. “I told him I didn’t know you.”
She stands, opening dresser drawers, and resumes packing. Slamming the last one, she spins around. “How did he find me?”