Page 32 of Beautifully Broken Control

I reached out, my hand covering hers, stilling her movements. “You didn’t. You spoke your truth. I can only admire that.” I paused for a moment, unsure if I could share what I wanted to. “The truth is, you reminded me about some pretty important things.”

I stared up at the community center. “I give a lot of money to organizations like this one, but I can’t tell you the last time I walked through one of their doors.” The truth of that hit like a punch to the gut. When I’d started to gain success with my company, I’d given money and time. I’d even made it a requirement for my employees to volunteer, gave them paid time to do it. But slowly, that had fallen away. The monetary donations grew, and the time spent disappeared.

Kennedy squeezed my hand, bringing my attention back to her. “We all lose sight sometimes. Of what’s truly important. Of all the people around us who are suffering. That doesn’t mean we can’t recalibrate. Reset our compass so we’re facing the right direction again.”

I cleared my throat and let go of Kennedy’s hand. “Where’s your car? I’ll walk you to it.”

She inclined her head towards a bike rack with one lone ten-speed chained to its metal posts. “My wheels are right here.”

My body locked. “You’re going to ride your bike home at eight o’clock at night?” Sure, the sky was still faintly light, but anything could happen to her. And if it did, no one would know until she didn’t show up for work the next day. My heart rate sped up, and my palms dampened, my mind running away with itself at all that could happen to her in those ten hours.

“Cain, I ride my bike everywhere. It’s totally safe.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision of all the images that were assaulting me. “It’s not safe.”

Kennedy grumbled something under her breath. “I see you’ve got the same overprotective streak as Tuck and Walker.”

Tuck and Walker had nothing on me, but I didn’t tell her that. I simply walked over to her bike. “What’s the code?”

Kennedy didn’t move. “Why?”

“So I can unlock your chain, put your bike in the back of my SUV, and take you home.”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest on the single word.

“No?”

“That’s right. No. It’s a two-letter word I’m sure you’re not used to hearing much, but one I say often. I’m absolutely fine riding my bike. I’ve been doing it for years.”

I let out a long breath, trying to remain calm, to keep the demons at bay. When I looked up at her, I knew there was an air of desperation in my gaze. “Please.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. “Why?”

I swallowed. The movement felt like sandpaper rubbing against my throat. “I just need to know you’re safe.”

Kennedy studied me for a moment. “Okay.”

The air came out of my lungs in a whoosh. “Thank you.”

She unlocked her bike, shaking her head the whole time. “I should sit in the back and make you be my chauffeur.”

I chuckled. “You’re welcome to.” She could put me in a damn driving cap if she wanted. Whatever it took to make sure she got home safely.

I loaded the bike into the back of my Range Rover, and we climbed in. The drive to the Kettle was mostly silent. I didn’t even turn on music, just rolled down the windows and let the cool air and the songs of the crickets calm my frayed nerves. It was all the ghosts burying Karen had brought up. That was why I was on edge. It had to be. With time and distance, things would ease, go back to normal. I just had to wait it out.

I turned into the back alley behind the Kettle and pulled to a stop outside the back door. I hopped out before Kennedy could argue and grabbed her bike from the back. She took it quickly from me and rolled it over to a post where she chained it up. She shuffled her feet. “Thanks, uh, for the ride.”

I chuckled. “You don’t have to thank me for a ride you didn’t want in the first place. Thanks for humoring me.”

Kennedy grinned as she unlocked the door. A door that only had a simple deadbolt and a knob lock. “Well, as you can see, I’m safe from all bandits.”

Our gazes locked, held. Some foreign energy crackling between us. “Stay that way.”

“I will.”

She would. I’d make sure of it.

11

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