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“Step aside or you’ll get real acquainted with my tires!” he shouted, face split in a good-ol’-boy grin that had the reporters smiling back, even though they were being threatened.
They did step back and Harley bounced his truck over the curb and into my driveway, hauling groceries out of the back and whistling a tune. He walked right through my front door like he owned the place. He dumped the groceries in the kitchen and started chatting about the weather like my life hadn’t completely changed the last three days.
“Harley,” I snapped, not giving a shit that there was a cold front pushing south soon that just might have him using his fireplace tomorrow night.
He lifted his head, a jug of milk in his hand. He opened the fridge and put the carton away and then leaned against the countertop, arms folded across his chest.
“What? I’m just shootin’ the shit ’til you say those three little words.”
I was running on only a few hours of sleep and a heart full of conflicting emotions. He was going to have to explain himself like I was a first grader. “What three little words?”
“You. Were. Right.” He shrugged. “Or if you want to use three different words, you could say ‘I was wrong.’”
“Fuck off,” I grumbled, opening the fridge to see if he’d brought me beer. It was five o’clock somewhere, right?
Harley let out a noise that sounded like an annoying buzzer. “That’s only two words, asshole.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a bottle of green juice that hadn’t been there this morning. “What the hell is this?”
Harley snatched it out of my hands and held it aloft like he was on some sort of game show and this juice was the prize. “This is sustenance. This is what you need to think clearly. This is a start to getting your life back on track.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Damn. That’s some miracle juice, huh?”
Harley tossed me the bottle and I caught it, reluctantly unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. It tasted terrible, which probably meant it was insanely good for me. I actually couldn’t remember the last time I ate a vegetable. Had to have been last week, before the debacle with Kenna.
“Is she home yet?”
Harley stilled, ignoring the rest of the groceries. “Not yet. Char talked to her yesterday and she sounded good.”
Through the grapevine of my friends, I’d found out that Kenna had flown back to San Francisco right after we talked. Pops assured me that all her things were still at Maeve’s house, but part of me wondered if she’d come back at all. She had to be thinking about living right next to me, the guy who’d broken her heart and lied to her. Exactly like her ex-husband.
I took another swig of juice and let the bitterness seep into every part of my body. “She never answered my text.”
“Well, no shit. She’s got some things to sort out, and quite frankly, I’m proud of her for taking the time to do it. Like I tried to tell you, she’s not the same woman who moved here.”
Funny how everything was so crystal-fucking-clear in the rearview mirror. “Is this the moment where I say you were right?”
Harley shrugged. “It would be a good first step.”
“And my next step?”
Harley twirled his keys around his finger. “Next step is figuring out how much you want Kenna in your life.”
“I already know how much.” It was the truth. It was all I thought about day and night since she left. Ten-plus more years of hiding out in Sunshine Key and fishing off my boat stretched before me. I used to call that paradise. Now the vision made me feel hollow inside.
Harley marched to the front door, and like the sad shell of a person I’d become, I followed him. “Then you better figure out a damn good way of getting her back.”
“A grand gesture meant to make me grovel?” I’d written enough love songs in my short music career to know what women wanted.
Harley swung open the door and I ducked out of the reporters’ line of sight. “Nah. Kenna is a grown-ass woman. She doesn’t need a big show. She wants to know you’re a grown-ass man. Fully healed and mature and ready to walk by her side instead of weigh her down. Figure your shit out, Dec.”
He slammed the door behind him, emphasizing his words. I could hear him working the crowd outside, but my brain was spinning. I’d felt shame over lying to Kenna, but it was so much deeper than that. I’d known it, but it had taken my best friend beating me over the head with it to make me look it right in the face.
Kenna and I had both come to Sunshine Key during the lowest points of our lives. The only difference was that Kenna had taken time to heal herself while I’d hidden, hoping the world would pass me by. I’d stayed small while she’d gained confidence. I’d shrunk while she shined. I’d let myself lick my wounds in secret while she’d exposed her wounds to the salty air, letting them scab over and ultimately heal.
“Fuck,” I muttered, slamming back the rest of the green juice and pacing the house, coming up with a plan. I had a lot to do and no time to lose.
I found my cell phone on the couch and eyed the voicemail from my old agent, the one who’d made a good living off me when I was still a country music star. He’d called that first morning when the story broke, advising me that all this chaos would eventually fade away if I just did a tell-all story with one major network station. I’d immediately tossed his idea aside in favor of more hiding.
