Chapter 16 – Kenna-Present
Chapter Sixteen
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KENNA-PRESENT
The day has felt impossibly long, weighed down with thoughts I’ve been holding in.
Every minute feels like an eternity, and all I can do is replay the same thing over and over in my mind.
How much I just want to be with Cole tonight.
It’s been far too long since we’ve spent time together simply for the sake of fun, without the heaviness of old conversations or the lingering shadow of everything that’s happened between us.
I’ve missed this—missed him—even though it feels a little strange, like stepping back into something familiar but uncertain.
The clock ticks louder in the quiet house, and I find myself restless.
Pacing between the kitchen and the living room.
Cohen’s laughter from earlier still echoes softly in my ears.
A reminder of everything I’m juggling. Motherhood, work, and now this fragile thread of hope with Cole.
How did we get here after all these years?
I’m thinking that maybe he’s thought about me the same way I thought about him throughout the past nine years.
Nine years.
Sometimes it feels like a blink, and other times it feels like a lifetime. Like we lived entire lives without each other, but some part of me never really moved on. Some part of me kept the light on.
I pull out my phone, hesitating for a moment before typing a quick text to him.
My fingers hover above the screen like it might catch fire if I hit send.
My heart thuds louder than the tick of the clock behind me.
What if this is too much? What if I’m reading too far into things again?
Something about tonight feels different.
Like the silence between us is finally giving way to something else. Something better.
Me
Hey, do you wanna come over and hang out tonight? I thought it could be fun to play some games or just do something simple.
I set the phone down on the coffee table, trying to keep my nerves in check. My mind races. What if he doesn’t want to? What if he’s busy? The uncertainty swirls like a storm in my stomach, but then, just as I’m starting to second-guess myself, my phone buzzes with his reply.
Cole
Yeah, I’d love to. I’ll be over in about 20.
A breath escapes my lungs in one sharp exhale, like I’d been holding it for days, not minutes.
For the first time today, the weight feels just a little lighter.
It’s funny how the smallest things. A text, a promise of time spent together.
It can shift your entire mood. I’m excited.
More excited than I probably should be, but it’s Cole, and spending time with him always feels like a return to something simpler, something comfortable.
Something I didn’t think I’d ever get back.
But then a pang of guilt hits me. Cohen. I should check on him. I text my mom quickly.
Me
How’s my boy doing?
Mom
He’s doing great, but he misses you. He keeps asking when he can go home.
I smile softly, but the ache in my chest grows. I want to be with him, to hold him, but I can’t shake this feeling that I’m slipping between two worlds. Being a mom first. And maybe, just maybe, trying to find a place where Cole fits in too.
Is that really fair—to him, to me, or to Cohen?
What kind of life is that, built on half-truths and things left unsaid?
He deserves better than that. We all do.
Keeping something this big from him feels like holding back a piece of the truth that could change everything.
And if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know how much longer I can carry it.
But if I don’t try…if I don’t open this door now, will I ever?
I make my way to the closet and pull out a few of the board games I haven’t touched in ages, giving each box a light dusting before setting them down on the table.
Games have always been my escape, a small piece of nostalgia that carries me back to times when life was less complicated, when it was just about having fun.
I smile at the thought, enjoying the sense of normalcy that comes with preparing for something simple.
It’s strange, the things that make you feel safe. A box of cards. The creak of the floor under familiar feet. The anticipation of laughter that hasn’t happened yet.
When the knock on the door finally comes, my nerves spike again. I take a moment to steady myself before pulling the door open. There he is, standing there with that signature, mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up when he sees me.
He’s holding two bottles of raspberry iced tea. My favorite. I didn’t even ask.
“Hey,” he greets softly, his voice low but warm, instantly making me feel at ease.
“Hey,” I reply, stepping aside to let him in. “Thanks for coming over. I was thinking we could play a couple of games. You up for it?”
“I’m always up for a game night,” he says, his playful grin making me feel more at ease. “What do you have in mind?”
I lead him into the living room, and we spread the games out on the table.
We decide on a classic—one of those trivia games that’s more about laughs and light-hearted competition than actually being good at it.
As I shuffle the cards and set everything up, I glance over at him, noticing how comfortably he’s settled into my space.
His long legs stretch out across the couch, and he leans back, making himself at home.
It’s moments like this that remind me why I fell for him. His easy confidence, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room, like no time has passed at all. Yet, beneath that ease, I see the weight he carries. The past mistakes, the lost years. It makes me ache for him.
He hides it well, but I see the shadows. I always did. Maybe that’s why I never really let go. Even in his absence, he still felt unfinished. Like a sentence hanging mid-air, waiting for the rest.
I feel a sense of warmth spread through me as I take in the sight.
It’s a comfort I didn’t realize I’d missed.
This easy, laid-back atmosphere between us.
As the first few questions roll by, we both relax into the game, laughing at the absurdity of some answers and playfully teasing each other over silly mistakes.
Time seems to blur as we get lost in the rhythm of the game, the clock ticking away unnoticed.
Eventually, my stomach lets out a loud growl, reminding me it’s long past dinnertime. I glance at Cole, who raises an eyebrow at me.
“Pizza?” he suggests, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yeah, definitely. You pick. I’m not picky.”
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through the options. I settle back against the couch, the hum of anticipation growing as I watch him. It’s been too long since we’ve just hung out like this. No agenda, no complications, just the two of us. When he looks up at me, his expression is teasing.
“You know what I’m ordering,” he says, tapping a few buttons on his phone with a grin.
I raise an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “What do you mean, ‘you know what I’m ordering’?”
He shrugs, his smile playful. “I know your favorite. It’s always the same.”
I feel my heart warm at the thought, and curiosity gets the better of me. “And what’s that?”
He leans back against the couch, his grin wide. “The white pizza with garlic, spinach, and ricotta. You can’t resist it.”
He remembers. Even after everything, he remembers.
A rush of affection hits me, a quiet but powerful reminder of just how much Cole knows me. It’s a small thing, but in this moment, it feels like a reassurance—something steady in a world that often feels anything but. “You’re right,” I admit with a smile. “That’s exactly what I want.”
His eyes twinkle with satisfaction. “Good. I’ll get it ordered. Should be here soon.”
He places his phone down and turns back to me. “So, what’s next?” His voice is casual, but there’s something about the way he asks that makes me feel like he’s fully present—like this time together is enough, even if we get no further than this.
“Well, I think I’m going to beat you at this next game,” I say with a teasing grin.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he laughs, clearly confident in his abilities.
We continue the game while waiting for the pizza, the easy camaraderie between us growing more comfortable by the minute. For the first time in a while, I feel lighter. Maybe I don’t need to have all the answers tonight. Maybe I don’t need to solve everything at once. I can just enjoy the moment.
Maybe healing doesn’t always come in giant, dramatic waves. Maybe sometimes it’s just laughter over a trivia card and the sound of someone you care about laughing with you instead of walking away.
After a while, I notice his laughter fading into something quieter. Something thoughtful. He leans back, eyes lingering on the ceiling for a beat too long.
“Do you ever think about it?” he asks suddenly, catching me off guard.
“Think about what?” I ask, studying his profile.
He turns his head slowly, his expression unreadable. “What it would’ve been like if none of it had happened…if I hadn’t gone away.”
The question cracks something open in me. I nod slowly, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah. All the time.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me. “Would we have made it?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We were so young. But I know I never stopped wondering. Even when I tried to move on…you were always this ache I couldn’t shake.”
He sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. “You were it for me, Kenna. I knew it then. I know it now. And it scares the hell out of me that I might mess it up again.”
I scoot closer, placing my hand on his. “You won’t. You’re not that guy anymore, Cole. And I’m not that girl. We’re not trying to relive the past. We’re building something new.”
Something better. Something stronger.
His thumb brushes against my knuckles, and the way he’s looking at me now…it’s not just longing. It’s a kind of quiet devotion.