18. Mckenna
EIGHTEEN
MCKENNA
Allegra
Kenny?
Are you okay?
Nova
Hey!
I haven’t heard from you.
What’s going on?
Mav
I’m on my way to the hospital.
I’ve got food.
Allegra
Are you speaking to Mav?
Jameson
Hey girl, just checking in.
You good?
Ivy
Kenny!
I just heard. Pick up your phone!
Nova
I’m worried about you.
..
For real, I will come up from Tennessee if you need me.
.. Just say the word.
Mav
Parking now.
Ivy
I tried calling you again.
Please let me know how you’re doing!
Derek
Kenny, you need anything?
Mav
What the hell, Mckenna?
Where are you? Are you okay?
You signed yourself out?
?? Where did you go?
Are you safe? Do you need anything?
Please, just let me know you’re good.
Hell, let someone, anyone, know you’re okay.
..
Allegra
Mckenna!
Are you with Emily and Robyn?
Did you go home?
I tuck my phone into my purse as my taxi rolls to a stop in front of Dad’s home.
“Thanks,” I mutter, sliding out of the cab and shutting the door.
Before I make it up the porch, the door swings open and Jeannie stands there, a calming smile on her face.
“Mckenna.”
I climb the porch steps.
She holds the door wider.
“Come on in; you must be exhausted.”
I nearly sob as I cross the threshold.
“I’m sorry to barge in like this.” I rush to explain, realizing I made a mistake.
Did Jeannie move in with Dad?
How did I not think to ask?
Or call first?
“Don’t apologize. You’re not barging in,” Jeannie says.
She gives me a sympathetic smile and opens her arms.
I fall into them, and she hugs me easily.
Naturally.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” I sob.
“Well, then it’s a good thing you came home,” she replies.
I don’t know how long we stand in the hallway hugging before Jeannie pulls back.
“Your father’s away at a conference but comes home tonight. I was just popping round to water the plants and collect the mail.” She looks around the kitchen.
“Why don’t you settle yourself upstairs in the guest room and I’ll put the kettle on. After some tea and soup, I bet you could do with a rest.”
My eyelids grow heavy at everything she’s promising—tea, soup, sleep.
“That sounds good.”
“Good. I’m happy you came here, even though I wish the circumstances were different.”
She offers a small smile and shrug, and I realize she means it.
She really is happy to see me, to help me.
And the stranger thing?
I’m happy to see her too.
Allegra
I’m glad you’re at your dad’s and getting rest. We’re all worried out of our minds.
Especially Mav.
I sigh and roll over to stare at the wall.
Jeannie did exactly as she promised.
She brewed me tea, fed me soup, and told me to rest.
Once she left, I messaged Allegra that I was safe at Dad’s house, showered, and slept for eternity.
At some point, Dad returned home but I imagine Jeannie filled him in because he never woke me.
That was yesterday.
Today, my dad and I made awkward small talk before I crawled back into bed, too exhausted to have the conversation we’re circling around.
A knock sounds at the bedroom door, and I force myself to sit up.
“Hey, Kenny,” Dad says, entering the space.
He looks strange, shadowing the doorway, as if he’s at a loss and doesn’t know how to navigate the situation before him.
We sit in the awkwardness stretching between us for several moments.
Finally, Dad sighs.
“I made you some tea.” He walks over and places the mug on the nightstand in his guest bedroom.
“Thanks for letting me stay here.” I lean against the headboard.
Regret sweeps his expression, and he looks tired.
Old. Beat down by a once glamorous life.
Sometimes, I see the charismatic, larger-than-life man from my childhood.
But more often, I’ve witnessed this new version.
He still gets up when life beats him down, but now, he’s slower.
“You’re always welcome, Mckenna,” he admits, his tone gruff.
He sits down in the chair by the window and removes his glasses.
He cleans them with the hem of his shirt.
The morning light highlights the two imprints from the nose pads on the bridge of his nose.
“I wish you knew that, but I guess that’s my fault.”
I arch an eyebrow, surprised by his accepting any blame.
Even if it’s only a slice.
Even if he “almost” feels bad about it.
Dad sighs again before slipping his glasses back on.
“Look, Mckenna, I recognize that our relationship isn’t what it should be. I know I’ve let you down. I spent so many years focused on work and let your mother take the lead with you. Then, with the divorce and everything that followed, I wrongly assumed that you and she would be a united front. Instead, we both left you out in the cold, and I was too damn stubborn to see it. I’m sorry, kid. Seeing you like this…” He gestures a hand in my direction.
“Watching you suffer, knowing you were dating a rockstar and I had no damn clue…” Dad pauses again and shakes his head miserably.
“I missed your wedding. I didn’t even know you got married until Jeannie saw the magazine headline.”
“I like her. A lot,” I admit.
Dad smiles at that. “She’s special.”
“Yeah.”
His smile falls and his eyes narrow.
“But I failed you, Kenny. And I’m sorry.”
His words wash over me like a salve, blanching some of the sting I’ve carried around since my 1L year.
“I always felt like an afterthought.”
Dad winces.
“You and Mom left me to fend for myself.”
His eyes widen at that.
His mouth drops open, and I continue talking to head him off.
“I don’t mean with material things. I was always well provided for. Until your divorce. I mean, you both forgot to pay tuition or assumed the other parent was taking care of it.” For years, I wanted to have this conversation with Dad.
But after my first few attempts were met with silence, I stopped trying.
Instead, I started harboring guilt and resentment and bitterness.
Right now, I’m too exhausted to sit and stew in any negative feelings.
I don’t care anymore what Dad’s reaction will be.
I’m clearing my mind, getting things off my chest, and letting the chips fall where they may.
Forgetting tuition payments, cancelling dinner plans, skipping holidays—none of it seems that important right now.
I’m nearly numb to the feelings that once held my body prisoner.
Instead, I speak freely.
My tone borders on monotonous.
I present the facts of this case—my life—with something akin to detachment.
“What?” Dad gasps, looking horrified.
“You and Mom, you never gave me time. You never got to know me. You never showed that you cared.” The missed violin concerts, the forgotten birthdays, the emails from the Bursar’s Office, the lack of Christmas dinner invites…
Those memories, coupled with the sadness and pain associated with them, flicker through my mind.
They fan out, recalling other injustices and wounds.
They shake me from my indifference and the backs of my eyes sting.
I avert my gaze and work a swallow.
My throat, previously dry, now feels tight and sore.
My former disinterest has blistered into pain.
Years of layered hurts bubble to the surface.
I feel raw and hollow.
Like my insides and all the emotions I keep locked down are on full display.
Vulnerability claws at my throat, fighting to say its piece, while a part of me tries to swallow it back.
Don’t show weakness.
Don’t cry.
Dad clears his throat and when I look at him, I catch him rubbing his eyes.
Not in dismissive frustration but in genuine sorrow.
“I care, Mckenna. I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know,” Dad says, owning his part full on.
His voice rattles with regret, and I read his sincerity in the dip of his brows, in the intensity of his gaze.
“Give me a shot to make it up to you. Please.”
“What?” I shake my head.
“How?—”
“Stay here. Let me settle your tuition.”
I wave a hand.
“It’s been taken care of.”
“How?” he asks.
Then, he shakes his head as if realizing that my husband can settle my tuition with a phone call.
“Okay, tell me why you’re here then, at my place? Why aren’t you home with Maverick?” He crosses his arms over his chest. He looks like the dad from my high school years.
Stern and formidable.
He’s back in his lane, away from the emotional messiness.
He wants facts.
I snort, realizing that we’re more alike than I thought.
This turn in the conversation feels more natural for me, too.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Dad hunches forward and pins me with his stare.
“I want to know, Kenny. Then, I’ll do whatever I can to fix it. To be the dad I should’ve been years ago.”
Those stupid tears I’ve been trying to hold back surge forward.
I’ve waited years for one of my parents to step up.
To help me shoulder some of the burdens I’ve been drowning under.
Dad’s offer feels like an olive branch I’m desperate to accept.
I’ve yearned for it.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned since Maverick Tate came into my life, it’s that sometimes, you need help.
And it’s okay to accept it.
It’s okay to be humbled by it.
It’s okay to say yes.
“Okay,” I agree, blinking back tears.
I open my mouth, and the story tumbles out.
I tell Dad how lost I felt after he and Mom divorced.
I confide in him about the party 1L year and Branson Burton.
About the confusion that ensued.
The trauma. The constant feeling of being apart and never clicking with law school students like I did with Allegra, Ivy, and Nova.
The financial hit at the start of my 3L year that nearly crippled me.
That I moved in with Maverick Tate.
How I agreed to be his fake girlfriend for financial gain.
I sniffle as I share that I convinced him to marry me, drunk in Vegas.
But when I woke up the following day, everything went to hell.
That night rushed back.
Things fell apart, came back together, only to collapse again.
And now, I’m here. Avoiding Mav.
The husband that I fell in love with.
Hiding from Bran. And blocking out my life.
Dad remains quiet as I share my story.
I note the horror that fills his expression when I speak about Bran.
The way his hands tighten into fists.
The agony that colors his eyes when he infers what truly happened that night.
I spot how his knee jerks up and down, his foot restless.
I see the disappointment that streaks across his expression about my financial position.
And the heavy regret that rests on his shoulders when I finish.
“Mckenna, I am truly so sorry,” Dad whispers, his voice raspy.
“I know that’s not enough. Nothing I do will ever be enough to erase what you’ve been through. And I had no idea. I can’t imagine the grit it took for you to make it in the world like you have.”
I snort, dragging the back of my hand over my nose.
I wipe at the moisture in my eyes.
Tossing a hand, I shake my head.
“Made it? Dad, I’m in your guest room, practically crying because?—”
“You lived through hell. And came out on the other side.”
“I’m tired,” I admit, half defeated.
Half hopeful.
“You should be.”
Dad passes me my mug of tea, and I wrap my hands around it.
Take a tentative sip.
Close my eyes, feeling lighter and more emotionally stable than I have in weeks.
Each time I share my encounter with Bran, I breathe a little bit deeper.
“Branson Burton,” Dad growls, testing out Bran’s name.
He taps his knees with his palms and hitches forward until he stands beside me.
I glance up at him and take in his towering frame.
“Leave this issue with me, Kenny. I’ll take care of him.”
He doesn’t look tired anymore.
Instead, he’s the formidable badass his enemies know better than to cross.
It’s a shift in the atmosphere.
A change in his confidence.
But once again, my dad is in charge.
I shake my head. “I need to sort this out on my own. I got in a fight with Maverick because he hired security detail for me without telling me.”
“He was trying to protect you,” Dad says, as if it’s obvious.
“I know that. But he should have told me. I should have been part of the conversation.”
Dad works a swallow.
“He loves you. I’m not sticking up for him?—”
“Are you sure?”
Dad snorts.
“I see your point. But I see his too, Kenny. That man would move mountains to keep you safe.”
“I know. I was just, hell, I was so angry.”
“Yeah. You get that from your mother.”
I narrow my eyes at Dad, and he smiles.
“I missed you, kid.”
“I missed you too, Dad.”
“I can take care of that scum, no questions asked,” he offers.
“Let me think about.”
“All right,” Dad agrees.
He leans down and brushes a kiss over the crown of my head.
“I’m glad you’re home, Kenny.”
Then, he leaves me with my thoughts.
I drink my tea slowly and worry about the classes I’m missing even though I emailed my professors and explained my concussion.
On the nightstand, my phone rests silently.
After talking with Dad, I’m finally ready to reply to Mav and my friends.
Mckenna
(to the girl group): Hey!
Thanks for your messages.
I’m good. Just taking some extra time at my dad’s.
I’ll check in soon. Love you girls.
Mckenna
(to Maverick): I’m sorry for blocking you out.
I know Allegra told you I’m at my dad’s house.
I just… I need a minute.
Sometimes, I don’t know how to do this with you, Mav.
Then, I turn off my phone, snuggle under the blankets, and watch a movie until sleep pulls me under.
No nightmares. No panic attacks.
No Branson Burton.
But also, no Maverick Tate.