When You Got A Good Thing (The Misfit Inn Book 1) Page 6

He’d never been able to walk away from her pain. Everything in him itched pull her in and shield her, to soothe the hurts. Once, she’d have let him. But this wasn’t his Kennedy. This woman seemed far more like the skittish, mistrustful girl he’d met years ago, after she’d first come to Joan. That was its own kind of punch in the gut. Did she trust him so little now?

  “What happened with your sisters?”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “A fight that’s been a long time coming. I gave them free rein to say whatever they needed to say to me, about how I left and how I’ve lived my life for the past ten years. I don’t have a right to get upset that they took me at my word.” Turning back to him, she straightened her shoulders. “And you’re here, so you might as well get in your licks, too.”

  As if he was really going to stand here and berate her when she was already hurting? “You want me to kick some puppies, too, while I’m at it?”

  “That’s more consideration than I deserve. Between you and Maggie, it’s a close race as to who has the most reason to hate me. But I was betting on you.”

  So she hadn’t been off all these years thinking she was a hundred percent in the right. It was a thin opening, but one his idiot heart grabbed onto with both hands. “We all felt a lot of things when you left. But I don’t think hate was really in the mix.” He’d tried for a while, but it hadn’t stuck.

  “Not so sure you’re right about that.” Turning away from him, she stared out over the valley, dark now but for a few pinpoints of light from the street lamps on Main Street that never turned off and a handful of security lights here and there. “What was it like for her? Maggie.”

  He didn’t have to ask what she meant. Perfect, over-achiever Maggie Reynolds had wound up pregnant at seventeen. The scandal had rocked Eden’s Ridge. And despite her career successes as an adult, there were still people who talked about her as that poor girl who got knocked up in high school. He didn’t doubt that subject had come up with her sisters tonight.

  “What do you think? It’s a small, conservative Southern town. She was ostracized, gossiped about. It didn’t help matters when she wouldn’t name the father.”

  She drew in an unsteady breath. “And after she miscarried?”

  He didn’t sugarcoat it. “She’d lost most of her friends. Athena was in fights every other week over the things people said. I missed a lot of it because I was off to school at UT, but it was pretty hellish. She needed her family.”

  Kennedy closed her eyes and a few more tears leaked out. “I couldn’t come back.”

  And that was on him. It was long past time for him to apologize. “You’ve never told them why. Your sisters.”

  She went rigid. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve never told them about the fight. About what an ass I was that night.”

  As fuzzy as the events leading up to it were, Xander still clearly remembered being naked with her in the back of her car and not finding the condoms he’d stowed in the glove box. Cliff Newell had been messing around in there earlier that night and had taken them all. The ass. Xander had put forth all of his inebriated charm to convince her he’d pull out. Kennedy had laughed and reached for her shirt. And Xander hadn’t been able to drop it.

  No really. How do you not trust me?

  She’d tried to put him off, but he’d just kept pushing until she’d snapped.

  Excuse me for not being willing to throw away both our futures because you want to get off.

  He’d been drunk and horny and so very stupid. If you loved me, you’d trust me.

  Never in their entire relationship had he put conditions on her. For someone like her, who’d been in a string of foster homes before she came to Joan, where love and acceptance were withheld for all kinds of reasons, that was a special brand of cruelty. He hadn’t thought of that in the moment, but he’d thought of it plenty since.

  The adult Kennedy was staring at him, fresh tears still streaking her face. Xander felt his gut twist, remembering the same look on her face from that awful night. If you loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to take the chance.

  If you loved me. Like, for the first time, she hadn’t been down-to-the-bone certain that he’d walk through fire for her. She’d certainly run away for less from many of those previous foster placements.

  “I should never have pressured you. Ever. Being drunk was no excuse. And God knows, you were right. What happened to Maggie—that could have been us.” When Porter had told him about Maggie’s pregnancy, that fact had eaten at him.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, how much I hated myself for the things I said. I was on your doorstep as soon as I woke up the next day, ready to grovel—hangover and all. But you were gone.” And his entire world had been knocked off its axis as he’d realized that what had felt like a stupid fight to him had been so much more for her.

  Xander took a step forward, starting to reach for her, to fold her into his arms, but everything in her posture shouted hands off. He curled his hands in on themselves. “Was it really so bad that you had to run away from me? From your family? Didn’t you know me better than that?”

  Chapter Six

  KENNEDY’S HEART BEAT SO hard and fast, she wondered she didn’t just bleed out from the pain of seeing him look at her with all that guilt and shame. She’d been prepared for him to hate her. Ready for him to rail and rant and curse her for slinking off in the middle of the night without a word. She deserved all of that and more. But he thought he was why she’d left. All these years, he’d thought it was because of that stupid fight. She’d barely even remembered it. Why would she, given what came after? But clearly he remembered, and he blamed himself.

  The absolute wrongness of that had her stepping into him before she could think better of it, laying a hand over his heart. “Xander, I—” But what could she say to allay his fears? She couldn’t tell him the truth, and she didn’t want to lie. Another round of tears welled up as she realized all the other ways she’d hurt him besides just walking away. “I’m so sorry.”

  His hand covered hers, pinning it in place. “I get why you ran. But why stay away all this time?”

  It was hard to force words past the knot in her throat. “I was afraid.”

  “Of me?” His stunned expression sucker punched her right in the gut.

  “No! Never that. I—” Kennedy took a breath, struggling to sort out what scraps of truth she could give him. “I thought you’d hate me. You had every right. I handled things so badly. I hurt everybody with how I left, and I’ve been afraid to come back and face that. The longer I stayed away, the worse it got, until it became this huge, overwhelming thing I didn’t know how to get past. I didn’t feel worthy—of the family, of forgiveness. Everybody moved on with their lives, without me in them, and I had no idea how to come back from that. And…I was terrified to come home and see you with someone else.” She swallowed, wishing she hadn’t let that slip out. But once the words started coming, she couldn’t seem to stop them. “It’s not fair or reasonable. I’m the one who walked away. I don’t get the right to be upset with you for moving on with your life. But I just—I couldn’t be here to see it and remember what I threw away.”

  Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, as if by grabbing on now, she could somehow make up for all the years of distance, all the years of pain. A part of her wanted to keep going, to haul him into her and take his mouth, stripping the layers of clothes off that big, built body of his until they gave each other the gift of oblivion. She so desperately wanted that comfort and closeness with him. No one had ever made her feel like he did. But it wouldn’t happen. After everything else she’d done, she’d never use him like that.

  Before she could release him, Xander’s hand slid around to cup her nape, tipping her face so she had to look at him. “There’s no one else. There’s never been anyone else who mattered.”

  Was he…Did he mean he’d waited for her?

  The instant blast of yearning almost dropped Kennedy to her k
nees. To fall into his arms, into his bed, and shout yes to a question she wasn’t even sure he was asking. She’d never even let herself imagine the possibility of picking back up where they’d left off, of getting the chance to build the life they’d so often dreamed of. She imagined it now, and her heart squeezed to aching. Because she knew what she could have with this man—if she had someone else’s life. But she was stuck with her own life, with all its many mistakes, and they meant she couldn’t have him now any more than she could a decade ago.

  On the heels of that bitter thought, she was struck by a wave of fresh guilt. His life had been on hold—at least to some extent—because of her. Whether he’d been deliberately waiting for her or because he needed some kind of resolution, he’d lost ten years he could’ve been building his life with someone else. She didn’t want that. The idea if it made her physically ill. But he deserved the chance for that, without her screwing it up.

  “You’re shaking.” Xander’s gaze skimmed over her. “Where’s your coat?”

  She wasn’t cold. Not when her skin felt almost electrified where he touched her. “Left without it.”

  “You must be freezing.” He slid his own coat off and swung it around her shoulders.

  Kennedy barely resisted the urge to turn her face into the shoulder to inhale his scent as she slid her arms into the sleeves. Since they fell well past her wrists, Xander reached out himself and zipped her in. The fabric was still warm from his body, and she hugged it close, wishing it were him wrapping her up tight.

  “C’mon. I’ll take you home.”

  “I don’t want to go home.” Not that she knew what the alternatives were, but she simply couldn’t face another round with her sisters tonight. Not when she felt as if she’d been flayed alive.

  “Okay.” The simple, easy acceptance relaxed her a fraction, enough that when he nudged her toward the trail, she fell into motion beside him. It never even occurred to Kennedy to fight it, his hold felt so right. Dangerous thinking. No matter what she wanted, she couldn’t let him believe they could start this up again.

  At the top of the trail, she stopped and gaped at his Bronco. “I can’t believe you still have this thing.”

  “Why on Earth would I get rid of a solid piece of American-made steel?”

  “Because it’s older than we are, and you’ve probably paid for an entirely new car in parts by now?”

  “Nah.” Xander tapped the hood with affection. “Me and Jethro have been through too much to split up now.”

  Kennedy had spent many happy days with Xander, roaming Stone County in this thing. And quite a few nights steaming up the windows. It was impossible not to think of that as he popped the back hatch. Nerves jittered in her stomach at the idea of crawling back there with him again. Mostly because, despite her good intentions, she wasn’t sure she could say no, and that was a bad, bad idea.

  But after a couple of moments of digging, he came up with a quilt and shut the lift gate again. Circling around to the front, he opened the door and gestured her in. “It’ll be warmer out of the wind.”

  Without a word, she clambered onto the bench seat ahead of him. He climbed in behind her and shut the door.

  “Not much warmer in here,” she said, realizing she was cold now that he wasn’t touching her.

  “It will be. Come here.” Xander hauled her across the seat until her back was pressed to his chest, then flipped the blanket over them both.

  It was an old, familiar gesture, one she should’ve resisted, for both their sakes. But she was so, so tired of being alone. If this was the only comfort she’d get, she would take it and be grateful. Relaxing against him, Kennedy willed herself not to give in to the urge to turn her face and rub it against his chest like a cat.

  Xander’s arms slid around her waist, as they had a hundred times before. How long had it been since someone had held her? Other than Flynn, had she trusted anyone enough for this? Just this simple touch. With a long sigh, Kennedy lay her head back against Xander’s shoulder, feeling more content than she had any right to. But here was what she’d needed since her mother’s death. What she’d needed for more years than she cared to admit. More than being home, more than being with her sisters, Xander had always been her safe place.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah.” She wrapped her arms over his and let herself have the illusion that this wasn’t just for tonight.

  “Tell me about your travels. How did you manage it without having savings built up?” The warmth of his breath stirred her hair.

  “Do you really want to hear about this? About what I’ve done since I left here?”

  “After you left, I haunted the house, constantly stopping by, helping out. At first it was because I thought you’d turn up, and I wanted to be there when that happened. Then it was just hoping to catch any scrap of news about where you were or what you were doing. So yeah, I want to hear.”

  God, that hurt her heart to think about. But she did as he asked because it seemed a safer topic than some of the alternatives. “I took about a million odd jobs. Seasonal work. Trail guide. Tour guide. Ski instructor. House-sitted quite a bit professionally, so I didn’t have to pay for lodging a lot of the time.”

  “That’s a thing?”

  “It is. I also bartended a lot. Waited tables. Worked as a hotel maid several times. Whatever came up. When nothing came up, I got really good at busking. Sang for my supper on more than one occasion.”

  “You’ve still got killer pipes. Joan would’ve liked that you sang.”

  Kennedy’s throat went thick. “I don’t want to talk about Mom,” she whispered.

  “Okay.” He rested his cheek against her hair, and that, too, was familiar. “Then tell me where all you went.”

  So she did. Cuddled up in the cab of his ancient Bronco, Kennedy took him around the world to all the places she wished he could’ve been with her to see. She got drowsy wrapped in their little cocoon, but every time she stopped talking, he’d ask more questions. No matter how late it got, she didn’t want to break the truce or spell or whatever it was that was holding the pain and grief at bay, so she answered, telling him story after story.

  “Out of everywhere you’ve been, which place was your favorite?”

  Kennedy didn’t even have to think. “Ireland. It’s the only country I kept going back to.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I love it there. And I’ve got some good friends. I even, briefly, had a sort of music career, touring for a while.”

  “Really?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Really.” She told him about Flynn and his merry band of gypsy musicians.

  “So you and he…?” Xander’s tone was casual. Deceptively so.

  The idea that he was jealous gave Kennedy far too much satisfaction. She snorted a laugh. “Flynn Bohannon is the closest I’ve ever had to a brother, and that includes all of my assorted foster brothers.”

  “So he’s family.”

  “He is.” She sobered. “You could just ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  “If I moved on.”

  “Did you?”

  “I wasn’t in any one place long enough to get serious with anybody.” She could blame it on her mobility, but there simply hadn’t been anyone who’d made her feel even a tenth of what she’d felt for Xander. What she still felt for him.

  She shifted until she could look him in the face. “Xander.” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, what she wanted to ask. Then he cupped her face in that big, broad palm, and the words dried up, leaving nothing in their wake but a wanting she saw reflected in his eyes.

  His thumb stroked her cheek, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “Kennedy.”

  Her breath quickened, and the air between them seemed to pulse. It was absolute madness to act on this. But had she ever used good sense when it came to Xander? She wanted him. She always had.

  Her hand curled into his shirt as her heart began to thunder. The vinyl seat creaked a
s he shifted to lower his head.

  “The sun’s coming up.” She blurted the words in a last ditch effort to save them both.

  Xander blinked and looked out the windshield at the first sliver of daylight glimmering over the misty peaks.

  The break in eye contact enabled her to regain a little control. “I should probably get home.” When she pushed against his chest for leverage, he let her go, and Kennedy did her best to ignore the crushing disappointment.

  As he cranked the Bronco and headed back toward her house, she told herself this was for the best. Yeah, she planned to stay in Eden’s Ridge, at least so long as the family needed her. But she wasn’t in any position to make promises, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything to yank him around again. If tonight had proved anything, it was that Xander Kincaid was a fixture in the Ridge and that wasn’t going to change.

  When they reached the house, he shut off the engine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well, I’m either walking you to the door or I’m helping you shimmy up the bodock tree to sneak back into your room. Your choice.”

  The image made her grin, which was a wholly unexpected end to the night. There was no telling how many times she’d gone up and down that tree in the years she’d lived here. “I don’t know if the window is unlocked, so I guess I’m going in the front door and hoping nobody’s up yet.”

  They quietly climbed the steps. Kennedy checked the knob and found it unlocked. Leaving it closed, she turned back to Xander. “Thanks for last night. Being back here, dealing with Mom, with my sisters—it’s been hard. You helped, more than you know.”

  “I’ll always lend an ear. Or a shoulder. I hope you know that.”

  She did, and it made her feel small and unworthy, knowing she had to keep lying to him, even if only by omission. He was good man, who deserved better. Suddenly too choked up to speak, she could only nod.

  “Hey. It’s all right. Come here, now.” Xander drew her against him, wrapping around her, until she felt surrounded, protected.

  Kennedy burrowed in, holding tight and struggling not to break apart. She shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t lean on him. And she’d stop. In a minute. But it just felt so damned good not to be alone. To borrow someone else’s strength for once.