Page 60 of Beautifully Broken Control

I wanted to smile. Tried to get my lips to mirror Jensen’s movement, but they wouldn’t obey. “I changed my last name. For most of my life, it was Barrington, not Charles.” I took in a slow breath, somehow hoping the air would steel me. “My father is Davis Barrington.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed. “The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

I twisted my hands in front of me, locking them together so tightly, they began to tingle. “Ponzi scheme.”

J’s eyes widened. “Oh, Kenz.” There wasn’t judgment in her voice. No disgust or even mistrust. Only sympathy. “I think I remember most of the story. You helped the FBI, right?”

I nodded. “I got a confession for them.” I began unloading, unpacking my past and laying it bare before her. I told her about Preston, what a wonderful brother he’d been, and the night it all changed.

I told her about all the extravagances of growing up in the Barrington household. The things I hated and the stuff I loved. I told her about my father and how I never would’ve thought his betrayal possible until the moment I saw the proof in front of me. In that moment, everything had clicked into place, and I’d wondered how I hadn’t seen it sooner.

But maybe I hadn’t wanted to. Perhaps I had been happy hiding my head in the sand because I got all the ballet lessons, the custom pointe shoes, and the nicest leotards. Along with the swankiest vacations, and the best schools. Maybe I’d been lying to myself all along.

“Kenz.” I was jolted back to the present moment by Jensen’s voice. “You don’t blame yourself, do you? None of this was your fault.”

Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. “I might not have stolen the money outright. But I lived off it. For over twenty years, I lived on the stolen lives of others. Do you know how that feels to know that? To know that people died because I got ballet lessons, and trips to St. Barts, and as many shoes as I wanted?”

It was the first time I’d said the words out loud, the ugly truth of them. Four people had died, taken their own lives because my family had wanted more. How did I live with that?

Jensen pulled me into a hard hug and didn’t let go even though I remained stiff in her arms. “I can’t imagine what that feels like, and it makes me want to kick your father in the balls for putting you in that position. But it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”

I understood on a logical level, but it didn’t change how Ifelt. It was as if the destruction my family had wrought had seeped into my bones, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to get it out. “I can’t change how I feel,” I whispered into Jensen’s shoulder.

She rubbed soothing circles on my back. “I know. But, one day, it will change. Life is a cycle. It ebbs and flows.” She seemed to trace that cycle along my back, pushing her fingers into peaks and valleys as she kept moving them in a circle. “There are moments that are so hard, you’ll think they’ve broken you, and you’ll never recover. But it’s those moments that make you appreciate the goodness, the sweetness, something so beautiful it will almost seem painful to take it all in.”

Jensen slowed her hand’s path, pausing, pressing her fingertips into my shoulder. “But there’s one thing I know for sure. The kind of guilt you’ve been feeling, it’s nothing but a lie. As women, we take so much on. It’s one of our gifts, to feel what others do, and deeply. It’s a gift to be able to sit in those emotions with another, to hold it with them. To feel what others experience and have it spur you to make changes in the world. I see that in you. But you can’t take it all on. You have to let it pass through you. Kennedy, you can’t hold the pain of the whole world. You’ll drown under the weight.

“Your father stole your choice from you. He didn’t allow you or the rest of your family to decide whether you were okay with living off stolen money. Iknowwhat your choice would’ve been. There is no doubt in my mind. You are a good person, one of the best. And one day, you’ll believe that, too. But until you do, I’ll be here to remind you.”

I let out a little sniffle as she released me. “So, you’re not firing me?”

Jensen let out a bark of laughter. “If I didn’t fire you the first three times you almost set my kitchen on fire, I’m not going to fire you because your father’s an asshole.” She paused, her mouth quirking. “The fact that you had no idea what you were doing in the kitchen makes a little more sense now.”

A laugh of my own escaped me. “I wasn’t really allowed in the kitchen at home. When I went to college, my roommate had to show me how to make Easy Mac. She thought I was an alien.”

Jensen wrapped an arm around me. The feel of it was better than anything I’d ever experienced before. Warmth, comfort, and affection, all given freely, even after I’d told her the ugly truth. All of it. “It’s going to be okay.”

I nodded. “You can tell Walker and Tuck. Your parents. I don’t want to live with this secret hanging over my head anymore, but I don’t know that I have the energy to go through it another half-dozen times.”

J turned to face me. “Are you sure? This is no one’s business but yours.”

I squeezed her hand. “I don’t want to feel like I’m living a lie. I don’t want to wonder if people want to be my friend or not if they knew the truth. I don’t want that weight.”

“I get that. But if anyone doesn’t want you in their life because of something your father did, then they deserve a swift kick where the sun don’t shine.”

I grinned at Jensen. “You’ll never know how often I thank my lucky stars I landed in Sutter Lake, in your tea shop. That you took a chance on me. Thank you.”

Jensen’s eyes began to water, and she shook a finger at me. “Oh no, you don’t. You are not going to make me cry, you evil woman.”

I chuckled. “It’s just that emotional ebb and flow you were talking about.”

She shoved at my shoulder. “That’s what I get for sharing my Zen wisdom with you. You throw it back in my face.”

We spent the rest of the morning laughing as we prepped. We didn’t venture into serious terrain at all, just enjoyed the simple pleasure of each other’s company. It was perfect.

* * *

I arched a foot,wincing just a bit as I slipped it back into my sneaker. The new pointe shoes I’d gotten were murdering my feet. There wasn’t a ton I missed from my old life, but my fancy pointe shoes were one. They had been so much easier to break in.

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