“I think I understand, Mom.”
Sophie opened the door. “Don’t go too easy on him.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Sophie nodded. “I’ll tell him to come up.”
“Mom,” Kenzi called out.
Her mother turned. “Yes, honey?”
“I feel like you see me now, really see me.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry—”
“No, please don’t. Don’t apologize. I’m trying to tell you that, beyond everything else, I’m grateful for this: you and me. This is what I’ve wanted for so long. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, honey.” Sophie smiled with tears in her eyes, then she left to get Asher.
Across town Dax was wishing he’d gone for a run instead of drinking. He felt trapped in his office, trapped in his own head. He’d taken out his cellphone countless times to call Kenzi then put it back on the arm of the chair.
He rested the half bottle of liquor on one knee and his empty glass on his other. He’d hoped a few shots would stop his thoughts from circling back to the moment he’d watched in horror as Kenzi’s head hit the tar of the driveway. She’d lain there motionless for what had felt like an eternity. He wasn’t a man who was used to feeling afraid, but fear had seared through him and left him shaken.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what Dale had said to him at the hospital. If I can’t love his daughter, I should leave now before she gets more attached.
Kenzi, I want to love you.
The door to his office opened. Clay strolled in and took the seat across from him. “You know what’s scarier than having someone like you for a boss? Watching someone like you get shitfaced alone in their office. Kate’s a wreck out there.”
“What I do is none of her business—or yours.”
He leaned forward and assessed Dax’s condition. “How drunk are you?”
“Not enough,” Dax growled.
Clay snatched the phone from beside Dax and slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket. “You’ll thank me later.”
Dax groaned and laid his head back. “You’re a good friend, Clay. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that, but you are.”
Clay removed the bottle and the glass from Dax’s hand. “You’ve had more than enough.”
Dax opened his eyes. “I’m a complete asshole. Why are you my friend?”
Clay made a pained face. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow. Why don’t I have Kate get us some coffee?”
Dax slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair. “I’m serious. Do I have one goddamned redeeming quality? Outside of knowing how to make money?”
Clay sat back and steepled his fingers in thought. “I never wonder what you’re thinking. There are a lot of fake people in the world, but you’re not one of them. If you say something you mean it.”
Dax narrowed his eyes at the blurry image of his friend across from him. “I never saw the need to lie.”
“I know. That’s part of what makes you you. You don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about you.” When Dax didn’t say anything, Clay leaned forward again. “Uh-oh. This is about Kenzi, isn’t it? No one else gets to you like she does.”
Dax rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I slept with her, Clay. And it was good. It was so fucking good. We—”
Clay laughed. “I’m positive you don’t want me to know this. So you finally fucked her. Why are you wallowing in Jack Daniels instead of doing it again?”
Dax groaned. “I met her family.”
“I did warn you that they wouldn’t like you.”
“They hate me.”
“I told you they would.”
“No, I mean they really fucking hate me. I thought we could keep it simple, but then she said she loved me, and her father wanted me to say something, and then I was holding her mother’s hand, and Kenzi was hurt.”
“You made a pass at Kenzi’s mother?” Clay’s eyebrows shot up.
As the alcohol seeped into his brain, Dax struggled to clarify. “No, Kenzi was bleeding. She jumped in front of her brother when he was coming for me. She hit her head.”
“Holy shit, is she okay?”
“I think so. Concussion? Some stitches. I left her with her family at the hospital. I was supposed to call her, but I didn’t. Her father told me to stay away if I can’t love her.” Dax pressed his lips together sadly. “I can’t love anyone. You know me. I’m an asshole.”
“I’m not sure you don’t love her.”
“What?”
“I’m no expert on love, but you’re miserable, and I’ve never seen you like this. You should at least consider the possibility.”
“Maybe. She has me thinking crazy things. Like I want to help the Hendersons keep their company. Dean is a fucking hero. He deserves to have something good come from this. What do you think of that? What if I helped someone keep something instead of helping them lose it?”
“I don’t really understand why Dean is a hero, but that’s definitely crazy.”
“I know, right? I mean, can you imagine what he’d say if I told him I’d invest in his company? And not so I could buy it out?”
“Easy, there, Dax. Did you drink anything besides the Jack?”
Dax heard the slur in his own words, but as he shared the idea he found he liked it. “Do you believe people can change?”
“Why don’t we talk about this when you’re sober?”
“I should have called Kenzi.”
“Call her tomorrow.”
“She’s waiting for my call now. What is she going to think if I don’t call her? That I don’t care that she was hurt?”
“Dax, you can’t call her drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Really?”
Dax waved four fingers in front of his face. “I only had three . . . or six . . . maybe nine shots.”
Clay stood. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before anyone sees you like this.”
Dax slept part of the drive back to his place. Clay guided him inside and to the door of his bedroom. “Go to bed, friend. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
Dax walked over to his bed and dropped onto it face first. “I’m fine.”
Clay put Dax’s phone on his nightstand. “Call me if you need me, but the best thing you can do is just sleep this off.”
Dax rolled over onto his back. “When I’m with Kenzi, she’s my redeeming quality.”
Clay turned off the light. “Good talk. Night, Dax.”
Dax’s eyes closed briefly, and he imagined Kenzi. He remembered how she’d looked the first night he’d met her. He’d sensed a deep sadness in her. That memory morphed as images of them together flipped like a photo album in his head. He loved how she looked sitting across the table from him on a date. He loved how she looked in the morning, all rosy from a night of lovemaking. Her voice was the one he wanted to hear whenever his phone rang. She was the first person he wanted to see when he left work.
He reached for his cellphone and found her number then pressed call. Her phone went to messages. He groaned and said, “Kenzi, I hope you’re okay. I’m so miserable . . . Clay thinks this is love. Goodnight.”
He hung up, tossed his phone onto the floor and passed out.
