Chapter 8
GRANT
I always feel itchy in my hometown. I’ve already been in one argument with my parents about Rachel, the woman my mom wants me to talk to.
I found out the “good job” she got was with a company her dad’s friend owns.
I didn’t even think about that possibility, that her lucrative job might be the result of nepotism.
Not that I’m interested, anyway.
I’m sure our next argument will be about where I’m going to work after I’m done with residency. They know I can’t find work in Blacksburg, but there are hospitals in Eastern Kentucky that need orthopedic surgeons, and my parents want me closer to home.
I don’t want that, though. I don’t like what home reminds me of, and I don’t like their snobbery. I’m not sure why I don’t shut them down when they bring things up. It’s hard to do that with the people who raised you, even if they do need to be put in their place.
When one of my old high school teammates texted to see if I was coming to the reunion, I originally said no.
I’ve changed so much I no longer know how to relate to my old friends, and honestly, the fact they liked me in high school seems evidence of their dubious character.
But I’m trying to repair my image at least somewhat, and besides that, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen some of these people. Maybe they’ve changed too.
Brayden, one of the other former football players, claps me on the back. “Have you seen Amy yet? She’s gotten even hotter since school.” He nudges me.
Okay, so perhaps these people haven’t matured much. I dated Amy in high school, and I offered her a polite hello, but I have no interest in rekindling any old flames. Or kindling anything with anyone from home, for that matter.
Brayden shoulders me again. God, that’s going to get annoying. “You seen the girl in the pink dress? Don’t know who she is, but she’s smokin’.” He dips his chin at her, not being subtle at all. “You think she’s here with anyone? She definitely didn’t go to school with us.”
I find myself looking despite the fact I don’t want to talk about hot women all night.
He’s right, though. The woman in question wears a pink dress that hugs her body, highlighting curves and smooth skin.
She’s got a light tan. A long table covered with a cheap white tablecloth spans the length of the wall in front of her, where she picks up a plastic cup of water. She turns our way.
What in the . . .?
My blood turns to ice. A ringing starts in my head and throbs with every heartbeat, like I’ve been hit in the skull with a frying pan. And maybe I have.
Kendall. She’s here.
I stroll toward her, moving with purpose. She’s seen me, and she waits on me, arms folded over her middle as she stares at me in defiance. My body continues to pulse.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I plant my hands on my hips. A thread of unease curls around my throat. Has she followed me or something? Have I attracted a stalker?
She scoffs. “Jesus Christ, you’re stupid. Put the pieces together.”
I throw my hands in the air. “What pieces?” This woman. “Are you out to get me here? You have some sort of vendetta against me?”
A smile spreads on her face. She lays her hand on her chest. “I’m from this town. I graduated with you ten years ago.”
I twist my lips to the side. I study her, my eyes trailing over her features as I process this new information.
I picture my graduating class. She doesn’t fit anywhere, at least not that I can remember. Although . . .
My eyes widen, heart punching against my ribs.
Oh, God. I can see it. She’s more polished and has a lighter hair color in a different style than she had in high school.
She’s thinner, too, and she’s had orthodontics.
She looks so different I have to squint to picture her teenage image.
But her hazel eyes, the shape of her face, her height, her brilliance, her beautiful voice—it’s her. “Kenzie Amburgey?”
“It’s Kendall Hodges now. I took my mom’s last name.”
“I always thought Kenzie was short for Mackenzie,” I say, and it’s the dumbest response anyone has ever come up with. Her jaw slackens.
She pushes by me, heading for the door. Meanwhile, all the blood drains from my face, leaving me dizzy.
“Wait.” Kenzie. The things I said and did to her. “Fuck!”
I run after her, noting how her steps gain speed. I look like some crazed ex-lover chasing her, but I can’t let her leave without talking to her. Apologizing, if that’s possible. God, what a mess I’ve created. No wonder she hates me. I was her tormentor.
I’m an idiot. The biggest idiot. King of all the idiots.
I find her outside, straightening her dress and fiddling with her heel like she only came out here for a breather.
Just like the night at karaoke, she’s more dressed up than almost everyone else, but it suits her.
She owns it. Even as she glares at me, cheeks pink with anger and exertion, the sun filtering through her hair like a golden backdrop, she’s gorgeous.
“Don’t go,” I say. “I swear I had no idea it was you. I never knew you left town.”
She snorts. “Of course you wouldn’t think I went to college,” she says. “Even though I was smarter than you.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she talks over me.
“I can’t leave, anyway,” she says, straightening. “My friend is in there. I just left her alone, and she’s definitely wondering why I ran out.”
I lift my hands. “You had every right to do that, Kenzie. Kendall, I mean.” I grip the ends of my hair. I want to rip it out. “How can I ever say sorry for the way I treated you? I wish I had known it was you. I’m sorry I didn’t.” I shrug, helpless. “How could I not have known?”
Maybe I’ve blocked it all out. That’s the only viable explanation.
She’s back to looking composed again. If not for the tension in her jaw, I’d think she was fine.
“You want a good working relationship, right? That’s what you said.”
“God.” I rake a hand down my face. “I am so sorry. You must have wanted to hit me.” I swallow.
“Hell, I want to hit me. I’ve wanted to apologize for years, but everything I read about apologizing made me feel like it would be more for me than for you.
And I didn’t want to dredge all that up.
” I rub the back of my neck. “And except for that one time senior year, sometimes I wasn’t even sure I got to you. You always seemed so hard to shake.”
“Of course you bothered me, you absolute ass. I’m a fucking human being. I cried all the time. Alone in my bedroom, but still.”
Ouch. Ouch. I want to reach back in time and strangle that stupid kid I’d been.
Maybe I thought I had reasons, but honestly, I was just a little shit.
Maybe I would say that she bothered me because she didn’t seem to care about the things I cared about—namely, what people thought of her.
I was taught that the superficial stuff was important.
But it doesn’t really matter. I did so much damage, and I can never atone for that.
“I don’t know what else to say. I was horrible and I know that.” I step toward her. “I don’t even think I believed the things I said to you at the time. I always thought you were beautiful—”
She shoves a finger toward me, making me take a step back.
“Don’t fucking do that. Don’t act like you bullied me because you had a crush on me or some other bullshit.
If that’s true, that would make it worse.
Then you’re making it my fault. So don’t tell me you thought I was pretty.
It’s actually better if you were just a shameless dick. ”
“Okay. All right. I deserve that.” I nod, head shaky, and lace my fingers together behind my neck. Sweat collects at my hairline. I continue to fuck this up.
She starts to walk back toward the door but swivels to face me again instead.
“Actually, I’m not fucking done.” She inhales.
“You crawled out of the same holler I did, and you aren’t better than me.
You were just high on your tiny amount of power.
And now you’re supposed to be alleviating human suffering, and it just shows how unfair this world is, because you were the source of mine.
” Her eyes water, and she blinks it back, as though she can’t bear to be vulnerable in front of me.
Bile churns in my stomach. I was awful to this amazing woman, and now I can hardly speak around the guilt clogging my throat.
“What can I do?” I want to reach for her, to give her a hug, though I know it would be unwelcome. This is karma—this lovely bright person who entered my life again to remind me of how I was the villain in someone else’s story.
Kendall’s friend—the one with the blue at the ends of her spiky hair—now stands at the doorway, eyeing me with unabashed hatred. And no wonder her friends hate me. She must have told them she was working with her former bully.
That word. Bully. The force of it hits me like an avalanche. Despite all the therapy, I haven’t truly reckoned with it until now.
“For what it’s worth, I believe you’re sorry,” she says, “but I don’t think I can truly forgive you. I’m trying to be more polite at work. That’s the best I can do for now.”
I nod. That’s more than I can ask for.
She turns to join her friend at the door, and I watch her walk away, wondering if I can really go back inside and chat with my old buddies when memories of my crimes dance through my head like ghosts in a haunted house.
I keep staring after her until she disappears.
She doesn’t look back at me. I kick a piece of gravel and watch it skip across the outside lot, obsessing over whether or not I should follow her.
I tug at my collar—I’m wearing a button-up and it’s still hot and humid out, even with the sun sinking behind the trees—and look around me.
Though the venue here is new and beautiful green scenery surrounds me, the hills and hollers cradle dilapidated homes and rusted truck beds.
The message rings out in the lines of the sagging roofs and stacks of tires in front yards: poverty.
It’s such a huge problem here. Kendall clawed her way out of it, no thanks to me.
She’s a goddamn superhero, and I’m an absolute sack of dirt.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. After a few deep breaths, I trudge back into the big, absurd barn structure, hands stuffed into my pockets, to find my old friends again.
The lights have dimmed, and a few people file out onto the dance floor, Kendall and her friends included. We’ve had a decent turnout with a few dozen people here. I find Brayden staring at Kendall across the room.
He startles when I speak.
“Sorry about that,” I tell him, along with some of my fellow former teammates. I’m not sure what else to say about sprinting out of the gym like a weirdo.
His eyes widen. “Were you following that woman?” He inclines his head toward Kendall. “You know her?”
I glance toward the woman in question. She and her friends bounce along to the music. A banner with our mascot and graduation year hangs in the background. The scent of beer drifts to us.
“I work with her now. It’s, uh, Kenzie, if you remember her. Kenzie Amburgey. We went to school with her.”
He narrows his eyes as though trying to place her. My old friends have stopped to listen.
“You remember her,” one of them, a guy named Luke, says. He puffs his cheeks out. “Kinda chubby, wore glasses. Super smart.”
My neck starts to burn.
“Wait. No way!” Brayden smiles at me. “You serious? What happened to her? She win the lottery or something? She looks way different.” He grins wider. “Have you been hooking up with her?”
Dear God. My skin crawls. I knew these people hadn’t changed. He doesn’t think it matters how mean I was to her, if he even remembers. Several of us were terrible to her and her friends.
“No,” is all I say.
I make excuses a little while later and sneak off to my car, where I lean my head against the headrest. My gut tightens. What am I going to do now?
The answer—I knew it as soon as soon as she told me who she was—is whatever she wants.