Chapter 6 – Kenna-Present #2
“You know, you’ve been really on top of your homework lately,” I say as I sit across from him. “I’m proud of you.”
He looks up mid-bite, cheeks puffed like a squirrel. “Thanks, Mom.” He swallows. “It’s ‘cause I wanna be a scientist. Or a comic book writer. Or maybe both.”
“A comic-writing scientist?”
“Yeah, I could do science during the day and draw superheroes who save the world with chemistry at night.”
“That sounds pretty amazing.”
He grins at me, his eyes wide and full of the hope that knocks the breath from my lungs. “You think I can really do that?”
I reach over, brushing a stray piece of pasta off his chin. “I know you can. You can do anything you want to, lovebug.”
He beams, and for a few moments, everything else falls away. Right now, it’s just Cohen and me sitting at the kitchen table with too much pizza and not enough napkins.
“You okay, Mom?” he asks suddenly, peering at me over his cup of juice. “You’ve been kind of quiet.”
I blink. “I’m okay, just thinking about how tired I am.”
He squints at me like he doesn’t believe me but lets it go. “You should take a nap tomorrow. Grown-ups don’t nap enough.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I force a soft laugh. “I’ll pencil it in between dishes and laundry.”
After dinner, Cohen helps me clear the table—well, tries to. He drops a fork, makes a dramatic face like the world is ending, and I catch it just before the meltdown hits. He mutters a sheepish “sorry,” and I ruffle his hair in response.
Later, he nestles into the couch, curled under his favorite blanket, comic book balanced on his knees. The scent of tomato sauce still lingers in the kitchen, warm and familiar. I lean against the doorway for a moment, letting the peace settle in.
I’m about to head upstairs when I hear his voice—soft, not dramatic this time.
“Mom?”
I glance back. He’s not looking at his comic anymore. He’s watching me.
“Yeah, lovebug?”
He hesitates. “How come I’ve never met my dad?”
The air leaves the room.
My hand stills on the dish towel. My stomach tightens, not with guilt, but with the impossible weight of a question I’ve been waiting for—and dreading.
“I mean…” Cohen sits up straighter, adjusting the blanket around him. “I’ve met Grandma and Grandpa. Uncle Reuben. Even Uncle Gabriel. But not him. Was he…a bad guy?”
His voice isn’t angry. Just curious. A little too mature for his eight years, like he’s pieced the puzzle together all on his own and is now quietly holding out the missing piece.
I cross the room and sit beside him, brushing his curls gently from his forehead.
“No, baby. He isn’t a bad guy.”
“Then…why isn’t he here?”
I take a breath and choose my words slowly, carefully. “That’s a really big question, and it’s kind of tricky to answer.”
“Did he leave?”
“No,” I say firmly. “He didn’t leave because he wanted to. He…had to go away when you were really little. And I made the choice to raise you on my own. I thought it was the best way to protect you. To keep life simple. Safe.”
He’s quiet, eyes narrowing just slightly in thought.
“So…is he gonna come back someday?”
The air in my lungs gets tight. “Maybe,” I say, my voice cracking just a little. “That depends on a lot of things. But if he does…I promise, you’ll know first. And you’ll have a say. Okay?”
Cohen looks at me for a long moment, as if he’s trying to read between the lines. There’s something deeper in his gaze than I’m ready for. Understanding, trust, and a quiet resilience that I both admire and ache for.
“Okay,” he says finally, leaning his head against my arm. “But if I get to meet him…I hope he’s cool.”
I let out a laugh that’s half-broken and half-whole. “Me too, kiddo.”
We sit like that for a while, his little body warm against mine, his heartbeat slow and steady. And I know then: the cracks are forming. The truth, the one I’ve tucked away for years, is rising. It won’t stay buried forever.
Later, I step upstairs quietly to get ready. Hallie arrives to babysit—Cohen greets her with an enthusiastic high five before diving right back into his comic. The moment is light, easy. But when I kneel beside him to say goodbye, his eyes lift to mine, bright and gentle.
“Mom, you look really pretty tonight.”
The words stop me cold in the best way. I smile, swallowing the sudden swell of emotion in my throat. “Thanks, sweetie.”
I brush a kiss against his forehead. “Be good for Hallie, alright? I’ll be back soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I head out the door, but the weight of that couch moment lingers. The question. The answer. And the fragile disguise of love and carefully chosen silences I’ve woven around him. Every step I take into the night feels heavier than the last.
I can’t help but wonder how much longer I’ll be able to protect him from what he doesn’t know.
The Whiskey Barrel is busy when I walk in, the dim light casting long shadows over the wood-paneled walls. The scent of whiskey and wood smoke fills the air. I spot Nathan sitting at the bar and walk over, my heels clicking lightly on the floor.
“Hey beautiful,” Nathan says with a smile, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I got your drink already.”
“Thanks,” I say, sliding onto the stool beside him. I manage a smile, but it feels stiff. When I see him, the warmth that is usually quick to rise in my chest is dulled. It’s like I’m watching myself from outside my body.
Nathan’s easygoing at first, launching into a story about one of his clients at the dealership, the way he always does.
He makes me laugh, just like he always does.
I can pretend everything is normal for a few minutes.
That I’m happy and I’m not holding something inside that doesn’t belong in this relationship.
But slowly, something shifts. I feel it like a tide pulling back. My smile fades. I stir the melting ice in my drink, eyes flicking toward the door every so often.
Eventually, Nathan notices. He sets his drink down, turning toward me.
“Alright,” he says, “do you want to tell me what’s going on, or are we going to sit here pretending everything’s fine?”
I blink. “I told you—I’m just tired.”
“You’re always tired lately.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. “Kenna, we’ve been together for four months. I’ve met your brothers, your sisters, even had dinner with your parents…but not once—not even once—have I met Cohen.”
I stiffen.
“He’s the most important person in your life,” Nathan continues.
“And I get it. You’re protective, and I respect the hell out of that.
When will you allow me to join your life?
You say you want something real, and I’m trying to give you that.
But it feels like you’ve got one foot out the door, and the other buried in a life I’m not allowed to be part of. ”
His words cut through the noise. I look down, my hands curling around my glass. It’s not fair to him. He’s not wrong. And yet how can I let him into that part of my life when I’m still lying about who Cohen really belongs to?
“Nathan…” I begin, but he interrupts.
“No, please let me finish. Being a dad isn’t my goal. I’m not looking for a grand gesture. I want to feel like I am dating all of you. Not just the parts you show me when it’s easy or convenient.”
My stomach twists. Guilt swells like a wave, and I don’t know where to put it. Because he’s right. I know I can’t do what he’s asking. Not with this secret between me and the rest of the world. Not when the shadow of Cole is still so present in my life.
“I need time,” I whisper. “It’s not about you. It’s just…complicated.”
Nathan lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”
He leans back, shaking his head like he’s trying to shake off the weight of my words. Then he looks at me again, more flustered than angry now. “Are you still in love with him?”
That question makes my breath catch.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
Nathan goes still. The hurt in his eyes flashes fast, but it lands like a punch.
“You don’t know?” He repeats, slower this time. “Kenna, we’ve been together for months. You’ve let me into your world, mostly. I’ve been patient. I try to give you your space and understand. What the hell are we doing here if you don’t know if you’re still in love with your ex?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s not wrong, and the silence feels louder than any answer I could give.
He exhales, rubbing a hand down his jaw. “Is that why I haven’t met Cohen?”
My stomach twists. “Nathan…”
“No, seriously.” His voice sharpens but doesn’t rise.
“I’ve met your parents, had beers with your brothers.
Your sisters practically interrogated me over dinner.
I’ve shown up, done everything right. But I haven’t even met your son.
And honestly, I don’t know...maybe you don’t fully trust me with that part of your life.
Or maybe it’s just because he’s not mine. ”
The blood drains from my face, and I grip the edge of the bar for balance.
“That isn’t fair,” I mumble.
Nathan leans in closer. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you’re not still tangled up with Cole. That you’re not keeping me at arm’s length because he has a grip on your heart.”
I stare at him. My throat is tight, and I can’t say it. I can’t lie.
Nathan lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “You can’t, can you?”
The silence between us turns hard, like stone.
“I don’t want to be your second place, Kenna,” he says, voice low. “I want a future with someone who sees me. Not someone who’s still staring at the past.”
His words crack something in me—not because I don’t care about him, but because I do. Just not in the way I should. Not in the way he deserves.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper.
The way he is looking at me like that only makes it worse.
“You’re not a bad person,” he says. “But you’re not ready. And I’m done pretending that’s okay with me.”
That’s when the tension hits its peak—and Cole’s voice cuts through the din behind us.
“Everything okay here?”