Page 54 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

“I don’t want to be by him as much as I don’t want to be away from him, and it’s really confusing. He . . . I can’t even find the right words because saying he broke my heart doesn’t even feel big enough.” I drop my face into my hands.

“It’s not wrong to feel more than one thing at the same time, it makes you human.” Lainey rubs my back. “You also have been going through a lot these past weeks.”

“You need to give yourself some time, but also if you really want to have a chance with Eli, you’re going to have to tell him what you told us, Kendra. All of it,” Sutton whispers.

I just nod, because I know they are both right. And that terrifies me.

Putting roots down in a place that held tragic memories took a lot of strength in Lainey and Rem, and seeing their place again today reminded me of that. Of the importance of not allowing the evil in the world to win, to take away the spaces from us that we hold sacred. A tear slips down my cheek as I realize that I had been letting my fear paralyze me for weeks. I am Kendra-fucking-Powell. I don’t let the bad beat me, literally and figuratively, to keep me down and keep me from what I love, from what gives me life, comfort. And what does that most is my home, the cabin that my nana left me and knew would be my own sanctuary. I refuse to let another day pass letting that one awful day dictate the rest of my life.

I miss my space, my home, myself.

The phone rings several times before a deep voice answers, “Hello, this is Easton of East Shore Construction.”

“Hey, Easton, it’s Kendra . . . Powell, um, Keller’s friend. I’m not sure if you remember me?”

“How the hell could I forget? How are you?”

“I’m alright.”

“What can I do for you? What’s going on?” he asks.

“My nana left me her house a few years back, and I have been slowly remodeling it,” I start to explain.

“Sorry to hear about your nana,” Easton says.

“Thank you. Her house, well we always called it her cabin, but anyways, it’s in Fox Grove. I had a contractor that was going to come look at the kitchen to help me with a renovation, but I would feel more comfortable if it was you.” I squeeze my eyes shut, praying I am not making a fool of myself.

“We don’t normally take work that far outside of Norfolk, but I’d do anything for you, Kendra.” I can hear his flirtatious smile through the phone.

“Really?” I ask, disbelieving.

“Of course! You know I don’t bullshit. Keller would kill me if I jerked you around.”

“Well, now I have to be honest. The project was originally going to be just the kitchen, but I recently had an incident happen, and I need to have the whole living room redone too. I was only really saving up for the kitchen, so we need to be creative with the budget.” I pace back and forth on Eli’s deck, the sun warming my skin.

“Oh shit, water damage or something?” Easton worries.

“Uhh, no.” I’m trying to decide how honest I should be, but I am not going to let the actions of someone else make me feel ashamed. This is step one of taking back my power after all. Name it. Move forward. Reclaim my home. “Actually, I was attacked by a guy that I was dating. He beat me, and that was where it happened, so I’m trying to take back the space. I want to be able to walk into my space again, Easton, and not immediately think about that night.”

My whole body is slick with sweat, not from the sun beating down on my skin.

“Oh my God, Kendra. Are you okay? What else can I do?” Easton’s voice is thick with concern for me and anger toward my attacker.

“Please just help me make my house feel like home again, Easton?” I whisper.

“It will be my pleasure.”

43

Eli

It felt good to be back at work and with the crew. I miss them and the routine, but it was hard as hell being away from Wren . . . and Kendra.

I picked up Wren from my mom’s house on the way home, and she insisted that I come in so she could cook me a big celebration breakfast for making it through my first work shift as a dad. She melted over the cute gift the guys got for Wren, put her in it even though the fit was a bit big, and then took about a hundred pictures of her—including lots with me too, holding Wren while I was still in my navy-blue work uniform. Honestly, I didn’t even fight her on it because the more pictures I have of Wren and with Wren the better.

She’s happily babbling in her car seat as I drive down our shady street, finally bursting with fall colors, and I swing my truck into our driveway.

Why the fuck is Keller Shore standing on my front porch? And why the fuck does he have his hands on my fucking woman?