Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
Kendall
As I work on a client's hair, the soft chime of the door opening catches my attention.
I glance over, and my heart skips a beat.
Is that a face I recognize? An older man stands there, his features strikingly familiar, yet I'm sure I've never met him.
His gaze sweeps the room until his dark eyes lock onto mine.
An unsettling mix of curiosity and unease washes over me as I quickly shift my focus back to my client.
I try to concentrate on the haircut, but my mind is half-listening to the conversation he's having with Sally, torn between the urge to understand why he feels so familiar and the need to focus on my client.
“I’m looking for Ms. Allen,” the man says in a dark, deep voice that rattles through my body.
There’s no getting out of this. I motion for one of my other stylists to finish my current client as my heart pounds in my chest.
I pivot and stride to the reception desk, where a commanding, yet stoic, older gentleman waits.
“I'm Kendall. How can I help?” I ask, my voice steady despite my nerves.
“Is there a place we could talk…privately?” His words, with an authoritative edge, send shivers racing up my spine—cold.
“What is this all about?” Trying to walk the line of professionalism, but stand my ground with him.
“I would like to talk to you about Dane.” The way he says Dane's name is almost threatening, and my stomach drops. My pulse hammers in my throat, and a thousand possibilities flash through my mind, each worse than the last.
I thrust my hand out for him to shake, fingers trembling slightly. “And you are?”
“I'm his father, Edward Walsh.” My body stiffens.
“Oh god,” I whisper, gripping the edge of the reception desk. “Has something happened to him?”
“No, he is fine.” He said it too quickly, too sharply.
“Okay, we can meet in my office.” I send a quick glance at Sally and nod firmly. She understands that the cameras in my office will capture everything. I want every moment recorded. “I'll be back.”
The sound of my heels striking the floor echoes my tension as I lead Mr. Walsh down the hall. The man following me is tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a tailored suit and exuding a presence that seems to occupy more space than it should.
We enter my office, and I slide into the chair behind my desk, gesturing sharply for him to sit in the seat opposite.
“How can I help you, Mr. Walsh?” I strive desperately to keep my voice from trembling. His presence is overwhelming, dark, and intimidating.
“You’ve built something really impressive here.” His eyes sweep across my office, landing on the licenses and certificates on the wall. “Community-rooted, female-led. I respect that. Done well for yourself.” His words are smooth, but they land like a warning, a threat.
My stomach twists into a knot so tight I can feel nausea roll up my throat. The air between us crackles with something dangerous.
“Thank you.” I barely manage.
He leans forward, the leather chair creaking under his weight. “You've been through a lot, haven't you? Clawed yourself out of something dark. Built this…” he gestures dismissively, “…business from nothing.” His smile doesn't reach his eyes. “That takes a certain grit and perseverance.”
The blood drains from my face. My past is exposed, but how does he know?
“Which is why,” he whispers, close enough that I can smell his expensive cologne, “I find this thing you have with my son… concerning.”
I freeze in my seat, my muscles tensing. “Dane and I…”
“Have something special, right? Sure. He’s good at making people believe that. But he's reckless, selfish, if I’m brutally honest. He acts on impulse, does whatever he pleases, whenever he pleases.” He stares at me while adjusting his cufflinks.
“Maybe you don’t know your son as well as you think you do.”
He unbuttons his suit jacket with a calculated calm, extracting a stack of papers and slowly leaning onto the desk, sliding the papers, including a check, over with one finger. “You’ll find there’s enough zeros here to make you reconsider your…attachment to my son.”
My fingers tighten around the arms of my chair as I stare at him, processing his words. My throat is dry. “I’m not interested in your money, Mr. Walsh.”
A faint smile crosses his face. “That’s what women like you always say. Until everything settles and you have clients deciding this salon isn’t a good fit anymore.” Glancing around my office one more time, his eyes land back on me. “It would be a shame to see all of this…fall apart.”
My chest tightens. “Are you threatening me?”
“I don’t make threats,” he says smoothly, leaning back in the chair. “I make predictions. I’ve seen many women latch onto powerful men, hoping it would give them the stability and status they wanted. In the end, it destroyed them. I’d hate to see you become one of them.”
Hands clasped on my desk to keep them from trembling, I lean in and say, “With all due respect, I don’t need your approval to see your son, and frankly, neither does he.”
His dark chuckle sends a chill through the air.
“Approval? No. Protection, perhaps. Do you know what people in this town are whispering? That you’re cozying up to Dane Walsh for leverage, that the permits and approval for your spa came through because of him.
Small towns love gossip, Ms. Allen, and reputation…
” He rests his elbows on the chair and steeples his hands. “Reputations are fragile.”
I stare at him, processing every word he is saying. None of it is true…well, except that Dane was the one who pushed for the permits to get approved, but that was on him. But I stay quiet, as he leans forward, entirely too close.
His voice drops low. “You’ll never be enough for him. Dane has a history of chasing fire until it burns him. Do you want to be another one-night headline in the long list of women?”
I force myself to maintain eye contact, never averting my gaze. It may not be the right move, but I’m not backing down. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.” His tone, pure ice. “Ambitious. Independent. Strong on the outside, but underneath? Vulnerable. He doesn’t have time for a relationship; he’s too busy at the firm.
For now, he’s carving out what few minutes he has to see you, but one day soon, the fire will fade, and he will be stuck at the office more, canceling plans.
It always fades, and he’ll go back to his old ways.
And then you’ll be alone, disappointed, wondering how you let him into your life, only to crush you.
” He taps the papers with the check on top.
“I’m offering you an out. Take the check.
Sign the agreement. Walk away before you’re humiliated.
Before people here look at you and see not a businesswoman, but a mistake on Dane Walsh’s resume. ”
He straightens his cuffs, rises from the seat, and smooths down his jacket. “Think it over. But don’t take too long. Opportunities like this vanish.”
Without another glance, he walks out, leaving me with a silence that is heavier than his words.
I’m stuck in this chair, shock taking over my body. Staring at the door he just walked out of, I return to my desk, where the papers and the check sit, screaming at me. My lungs, breaths coming too shallow, too quick.
I slam my fist on the desk and shove the papers, but the words he left behind linger in the air.
You’ll never be enough. People are already whispering. You’ll just be another mistake.
It hits a little too close to Jake’s voice.
The poison in every word, cruel intention meant to cut through me, to hurt me.
I can’t sit anymore; jumping out of my chair, I pace with arms wrapped tightly around myself, thinking.
Why am I letting his words get under my skin?
He knows exactly how to hit me where it hurts.
Glancing at the mirror on my wall, the woman staring back at me is a complete mess—flushed cheeks, eyes wet, the confident woman stripped down to something small and uncertain, which is exactly what Edward Walsh wanted.
Tears prick my eyes, and I blink rapidly to clear them. I will not give him the satisfaction of my tears. I worked too damn hard to build this business, to bring myself out of the Jake wreckage, to stand on my own.
And yet…
My chest squeezes, and doubts flood in faster than I can push them out. What if he was right? What if people think I’m using Dane? My reputation…smeared.
I brace myself against my desk, shoulders shaking.
For a moment, the walls feel like they are closing in on me.
Using this time to figure out what’s next, I walk around and sit in my chair.
Straightening the papers on my desk, pushing the check to the far corner, I inhale slowly and deeply until my mask slides firmly into place.
No one will ever know how close his words came to breaking me.
When there’s a knock on the door, I startle.
“Hey, you okay?” Sally asks as she opens the door to my office and walks in.
“I don’t know.” The tears I was holding in finally break free and roll down my cheeks.
I have so many questions, and a salon to run, with clients waiting for me.
Dane is at his office and says he won’t be able to see me this week.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait until the end of the week to talk to him.
What I do need is a few hours to process what the hell just happened.
His dad has me second-guessing myself—and us.
She walks over to the mini-fridge in the corner and grabs a bottle of cold water. Placing it down on my desk, she says, “Drink this.” And then she hands me a handful of tissues.
I take a few sips and then ask her, “How many more clients do I have today?”
“Three.” She rubs my back. It’s comforting.
“Can anyone else take them?”
“Let me see.” She pulls out her phone and clicks a few times. “Yes, we can spread them around. I’ll take care of everything. Why don’t you head home?”
I inhale deeply, struggling to keep the tears from spilling free again. Everything about this situation is a tangled mess of confusion. I murmur, “Thank you,” but even as I say it, I'm unsure if I mean it. “Text me if you need anything.”
“Kendall, I’ve been handling your salon since the beginning; you don’t have to worry about anything.” She leans down and hugs me.
I feel frozen in place, but I need to leave right now. I stand up, pick up my bag and keys, and walk out the door. “I’ll let you know what’s going on.”
In a daze, I drag my feet out to my car and drive home. I don’t even remember getting here. After parking the car in the garage, I step inside. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Leaving me with all of my rogue thoughts. Alone. Confused. Overwhelmed.
I drop my bag by the door and kick off my shoes, but I don’t remember doing it. My body moves on autopilot. My chest is tight, like someone tied a cord around my lungs and yanked it.
I make it to my bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed.
The tears flood my eyes, threatening to escape at any moment.
Then, my body falls sideways onto my bed, and I curl up in the fetal position, hugging my pillow so tightly my arms shake.
One breath. Then another. Then a sob punches through me uncontrollably.
You’ll wake up a year from now—exhausted, resentful, wondering why you ever thought this could work.
I squeeze my eyes shut, reeling into the darkness.
How did he know about Jake? About any of it? Did Dane tell him everything? I’m so confused and angry.
I hug my pillow tighter, and I want to believe it’s a lie. I want to believe he doesn’t know Dane at all…
But what if he’s right?
I cry harder. Ugly crying. My pillow taking the brunt of my breakdown.
I should be stronger than this.
The last few weeks have taken a toll on me, and I just can’t take it anymore. My resilience is nonexistent, and I’m left wondering why it abandoned me.
I reach for my phone and text the girls' group text.
Kendall:
Are any of you free? I need a voice that’s not mine in my head right now.
And then I toss it onto my bed. I can’t. I curl my knees up tighter. My body hurts. My heart hurts. And the worst part is, I think I love him. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time, especially with Dane making decisions for me and the whole thing about Jake.
My phone dings, which knocks me out of the path of spiraling. I reluctantly pick it up.
Lane:
What’s going on? Where are you?
Kendall:
Home
Faith:
Home? Be there in 15 minutes
Lane:
I’ll bring ice cream