Stripped Raw (28 page)

I spot Kenzie
as soon as I walk up to the riding corral, only she’s not riding today. She’s not even dressed to ride. Mystic is grazing in the grass while Kenzie is leaned up against her. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s crying. But she doesn’t need to cry for me to see her pain. Hell, I can feel it from across the field. She’s doing her best to contain it, to hold it all in, but it’s like a force field surrounding her, a force field I know I can’t penetrate. But it’s not going to stop me from trying.

No one else is around. The place is empty, which is good if she starts yelling at me again. Her posture stiffens, and I know she can feel my presence. I pause for a second. Maybe I should go? But I know if I leave now, she’ll think I’m giving up on her. That’s not an option. “I spoke with Tessa,” I say. Her eyes close, and her head rests on the horse’s side. Her auburn hair lays gently on Mystic’s gray coat. I wish she were leaning on me instead.

“I need to be alone,” Kenzie says.

“That’s the opposite of what you need.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t have the energy for this. Please go.”

“No,” I say. “I’m not leaving you. I won’t say another word, but I’m staying. You will never be alone again.”

“Unless Lily calls,” she snaps at me. I’m not taking the bait. Instead, I step a few feet away and lean against the fence post. Space I can give her, but not solitude. And I keep my promise. I don’t say another thing to her. We simply stay there, quietly surrounded by the smell of horseshit. It seems fitting, since we are surrounded by shit in real life. The thought makes me smile. I think about making a joke, since normally Kenzie would find that funny. She usually laughs so easily, but I look up and see her glaring at my grin. I must look like a complete asshole, standing here smiling while her sister is dying. My smile fades, but she looks like she still wants to hit me. I’d let her if I thought it would make her feel better.

“I have to go,” she says, grabbing Mystic’s reins.

“You can do this, Kenzie,” I say. “I know it feels like you can’t, but you are strong. . . .”

“I know I can,” she says. “And I’ll do it alone, just like always.”

“The fuck you will,” I bark, pulling her into my arms. My hand winds in her hair as her lips hover close to mine. Her body is tense, but she doesn’t pull away. I know she still wants me. I know my arms still make her feel better. “Let me make you feel better,” I whisper. “You know I can.” Her eyes fall to my mouth, and that’s the only answer I need. I yank her forward, making sure my dick presses just the right spot, and her breath catches. Moving my hands to her ass, I pull her into me. A sweet moan slips from her lips. “Feeling better?”

She pushes me aside. “My vibrator can make me feel just as good,” she spits out.

“I doubt that,” I say, trying to lighten things. “Besides, I confiscated it, remember?”

She grabs Mystic’s reins and points at me, saying, “This changes nothing.”

*

KENZIE

There is too
much to do to sit around and wallow over a man. I give myself a few extra hours of sleep, but that’s it. If I don’t get up now, this sadness, this loss and fear will swallow me whole. There’s only one thing to do. What I always do—busy myself through it.

It’s time to go to my shop and pack up. I’m not sure what to do beyond that. I’ve bought a building with Kane but don’t want to move there. Regardless, I have to be out of my current shit hole, so I have to finish packing. I need to move the rest of my clothes and things to Tessa’s house, anyway.

Opening up the front door, I find the Tiffany Blue heels waiting on the front porch. My eyes dart up looking for Kane, but he’s nowhere to be found. Picking them up, they feel cold in my hands. They must have been out here all night. It was dark when I got home last night, so I guess I missed them. I wipe them with my shirt sleeve and hug them to my chest. They are too beautiful to leave outside. And even though they will never go on my feet again, something about the perfect pair of shoes always comforts me. Kane knows that.

I slump back inside and into bed. Packing can wait until tomorrow.

The problem is tomorrow comes, and I can barely pull myself out of bed. I’ve never had a problem moving on before. Like I told Kane—when I’m done, I’m done. But even getting dressed wears me out. I open up the front door, determined to make it to my shop. A box waits on the front porch. I bend down and pick it up. I hadn’t heard a peep from outside while I was wallowing and there is no note, but I know who left them. I lift the lid, finding a pair of Brooks running shoes inside with a card saying:

These shoes say it’s time to stop running away.

Shaking my head, certain Kane isn’t going to give up, but a pair of shoes doesn’t change anything.
But what about two pair?
The next morning, another small package waits on the front porch. A stunning pair of hot pink Manolos wait inside with another card.

These shoes say I’m not giving up. I’ll never give up on you.

Every morning for the next week, a new pair of shoes with a note waits on the porch. I line up all the shoes on the dining room table. Most men send flowers or chocolate. Kane sends shoes. The man does know me. I pick up the notes, re-reading them. I especially like the note that came with the spiky, black stiletto, thigh-high leather boots.

These shoes say kick my ass, but talk to me.

While the shoes and notes are touching, my heart is just too broken to put itself back together right now—too broken for Kane, and too broken for my sister, who has refused visitors for the past week. I miss her already. I know she doesn’t want me to see her struggling, but she’s denying me the opportunity to love her and that hurts. But this isn’t about me; it’s about her, and I have to respect her wishes.

My life minus my sister—my life minus Kane. . . . No amount of busy, no amount of work will ever be enough to fill the emptiness I’m left with.

KANE

A week of
begging, groveling, and shoe shopping have gotten me nowhere. I thought my plan was failproof, but so far, I haven’t heard a word from Kenzie. She is one stubborn woman. I’m not sure where to go from here, but giving up is not an option. My heart won’t let me; my head won’t let me; my soul won’t let me. I don’t care how many times she hangs up on me, yells at me, ignores me, leaves my heart feeling like trash on the side of the road. I will not give up.

But it’s making my life hell right now. They didn’t force me out of the practice when I gave notice at work, so I have one week left to go. Then I’d planned to start my new consulting business, but I’m
supposed
to do that from my new office space, which I’m
supposed
to share with Kenzie. I’ve been moving my stuff there a little each day while supervising a few minor renovations, but she hasn’t shown up at all, so my work situation appears fucked.

My living situation is also fucked. I’ve been stuck in a hotel room alone since my house sold, since I have no better option. I definitely am not running home to my mom and stepdad. Deacon offered to let me crash at his place, but that would be worse than waterboarding. And I’m not even thinking about getting my own place. I won’t give up on the dreams that Kenzie and I shared.

But takeout and hotel television is hardly a life. God, I miss her—everything about her, about us—who I am when I’m with her—how she makes me feel. The way that it was—the way things should have been swirl in my mind. I’ve been through a lot the past two years, but I know I’ll never get over Kenzie walking away. I’ve never been one to let my feelings show, even when Lily and I our lost child. Strength is in control. But Kenzie changed that. I’d let her in—let her see my pain, cried in her arms.

I walk over to the hotel dresser and open up the drawer, finding Kenzie’s engagement ring. Slipping it on my pinky, I take a deep breath. I wonder what she’s doing, how Tessa is, how Zoe is? I asked Michael to keep me informed, but he’s got more important things on his mind, so I haven’t heard from him. A loud knock on the door stirs me from my bad mood. Taking the ring off, I place it safely back in the drawer.

The knocks come again, harder this time. Maybe it’s Kenzie? I open up the door, and Deacon blows right past me. “Okay, so Kenzie was a total closet psycho. It’s time you get off your ass.”

“Kenzie isn’t a closet psycho,” I say, still standing by the open door, hoping Deacon would walk back out of it.

“Was it a sex thing?” Deacon asks. “She have a bunch of sidedick?”

“Christ, no.”

“Was it you? Did you always leave her hanging? You know, the worst is a neargasm.”

I slam the door shut. Deacon’s not going anywhere. “No, it’s not a sex thing.”

Deacon leans against the desk. “Damn, I knew from the moment I saw her she was blow-your-dick-off good.”

“You’re crossing the fucking line, Deacon. Don’t you have a penicillin shot you should be getting?”

Deacon laughs. “No glove, no love.”

I can’t help the little grin on my face. Deacon is a total idiot, but I know he’s trying to cheer me up.

“Or does Kenzie use slut candy?”

“
Slut candy
? Dude, you really are a douchebag. None of your business.”

Deacon tilts his head. “How can I help?”

*

KENZIE

He’s already gotten
me boots, running shoes, stilettos, wedges, sandals, platforms, and even a pair of slippers. What could possibly be waiting for me this morning? It really doesn’t matter, though, because no matter what kind of shoes are waiting, I can’t let it stop me. It’s time to pull myself together for Zoe—time to leave the house. There’s no other choice.

But when I open the door, I’m not met with a shoe box but a pair of ballet flats attached to his ex-wife. I look up into Lily’s perfect face. What did I do to deserve this?

“This was on your porch,” she says, smiling slightly and holding out a shoe box.

I take it from her, seeing scabs where what looks like teeth marks are healing. “Thank you.”

She fidgets with her purse strap. “This was easier when I practiced. I guess you know who I am?”

“Lily Hunter.”

“Lily
Page
,” she corrects. “Went back to my maiden name. Could we talk for a minute?” I motion towards a little table on the porch, and we take a seat. “Kane told me. . . .”

“I don’t have time. . . .”

“He told me how much he loves you.”

“When was this?”

“When he came to California,” Lily says.

“Have you seen him lately?”

“I saw him this morning for coffee. It was the first time I’ve seen him since he left the house that day.” She reaches her hand towards me but doesn’t touch me. “Nothing happened between us, please know that.”

“I appreciate you saying that and coming here, but. . . .”

“He’s a wreck. Please talk to him.”

“You’re here to tell me to make up with your ex?”

“I am. I’m going back to treatment, on my dime this time. I want to see Kane happy. I made him so sad, but he’s different with you.”

“He still loves you. I heard him say it.”

“Would you want a man who hated his ex-wife? A man who could turn love to hate in two seconds flat? No! You love him because he’s
not
a man who can do that. I’m not a threat. I’m not trying to win him back.”

“But you love him?”

“Of course. But I blamed him for what happened for a long time, his neglect, his working. He’s paid to notice things about people, but he didn’t notice me throwing up a dozen times a day. So for a long time when I looked at him, I hated him.”

“But you don’t now?”

“No, this was my fault, my illness. When I finally admitted I needed to get help, Kane was there for me, but when I look in his eyes, all I see staring back at me is pain. Pain I caused.”

“You have a disease. Kane knows that.”

“I do, and it killed our baby and our marriage. He would’ve stayed married to me forever, trying to work things out, trying to forgive me. That’s the kind of man he is. We did the therapy thing. Kane’s not a quitter, but I couldn’t stand to see that look in his face. He and I share a history, but you are his future. I’m not a threat.” She raises her arms in the air. “Look at yourself, Kenzie. You’ve made a successful business all on your own. I haven’t worked in years. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’ve got curves for days. Your hair is to die for. I’m so malnourished, mine is brittle and breaks off. Your skin glows. My hands are scarred with my teeth marks. My teeth are fake because mine rotted out.”