“I told my dad to fuck off,” I say in lieu of greeting.
The carefully distant mask on Kenzie’s face slips as my words startle a laugh out of her.
She looks just as surprised to be laughing as she does about my announcement. Her eyes aren't puffy today, so I can hope that she hasn't been crying, but I've got plenty of tears to make up for.
“Can I come in?” I’m almost scared to ask, scared she’ll shut the door in my face, but I'm not running from my fears anymore.I'm facing them head on. “I don't expect you to forgive me. I just want to tell you what I'm going to do to try to make things right between us.”
She hesitates, her expression bouncing between worry and frustration and something that looks a little like (find exasperation.) I don’t push. People have pushed their expectations onto me, sure, but I've done plenty pushing of my own.
Kenzie needs to know that I'm serious about this. I'll wait as long as I need to for her.
I don't care if it takes forever.
I can't quite read the expression her face settles into, something between amusement and affection, but still tinged with that edge of bitter hurt. She nods and steps aside.
“Make yourself at home,” she invites.
I carefully slip my boots off after stepping inside, and she stays quiet as she closes and locks the door behind me.
“Can we sit in the living room and talk?” I ask. “Or would you prefer the kitchen?”
She glances to the kitchen table, the vase of wilted lilies still sitting in the middle of it. My heart twinges with guilt.
“The living room is fine.”
She’s being careful with her tone, with her words, keeping distance between us both emotionally and physically. I follow her into the living room, one stride behind her, and take my usual seat on the edge of the sectional. I expect her to either join me on the couch or sit on the coffee table, maybe even stay standing.
I damn near squawk in shock when she settles down right in my lap.
My first instinct is to jump up, but the weight of her straddling my hips prevents me from doing more than flinching. I lift my hands into the air like I'm surrendering, unsure ofwhat's happening but terrified to make the wrong move by touching her.
It's torture.
She breathes out a sad little noise against my throat and wraps her arms around my shoulders. My heart pounds so hard in my chest that it makes me dizzy. Or maybe that's just the scent of her shampoo.
“I kind of fucking hate you, y’know?” she asks quietly.
Her voice is soft, and there's pain threaded through it, but her lips curve into a smile against my neck.
“I can't even stand by what I say. I thought I was doing so well on the farm, but the second your truck pulled up, I knew I was going to fold. It’s impossible to stay mad at you for long, so I might as well just forgive you now.” There's something both self-deprecating and oddly happy about her words, and she looks a little manic when she leans back to meet my eyes. “Tell me what you came here to say, so I can forgive you, dumbass.”
My words catch in my throat and I stare at her, scared this is some kind of trap.
“I—no,” I stammer. “Kenz, you were right. About everything. I don't want you to forgive me unless I earn it.”
A tear slips from her eye and down her cheek, and something in her demeanor changes. She sighs softly, her smile looking a little more honest even as she cries, and she sags forward a little. I slowly drop my hands to her waist, hardly even touching her. It feels like every cell in her body is reaching out to me.
It's only now I realize she was expecting the same old me to walk through her door. Boyish, go with the flow Bo Montgomery. She doesn't know how much she's changed me because I haven't shown her.
“I'm serious, Kenz,” I say, leaning back slightly to catch her eye. “I told Dad that no matter what winds up being the truth of this whole mess with Savannah, I'm not leaving you. I'll supportmy kid in every way I can, but nothing in the world could ever be more important than you. I've said that before, but I haven't proved it. You can bet your ass, I'm going to prove it this time.”
She giggles at the desperation in my voice and leans up to press our foreheads together, effectively cutting me off.
“I heard you,” she says softly. “With your dad. I left because I wanted to figure out what to say to you, but all there is to say is that I love you.”
I might go blind for a second at hearing her say that, my whole body shuddering in overwhelming gratitude.
“And I do forgi?—”
