Chapter 18

Kennedy – One Week Later

My Dearest Pixie,

You called today, you actually fucking called me, but you were crying.

Do you know how much it hurts to get that kind of phone call? I wanted to grab hold of you and never let you go. You sounded so fucking broken, and I couldn't do anything.

I felt so fucking helpless.

I need you to come home, Pixie. I need you home so I can hold you and tell you how much I love you, and how my days are not right without you.

Come home, baby.

I love you.

Your Lucas x

I wipe awaythe fallen tears and slip the letter into the envelope. So many letters and so much hurt.

He was drowning just like I was. All this time, I thought he was making it work with Prue, when he was actually trying not to kill himself.

I randomly pick up another letter, biting my lip before opening it.

My Dearest Pixie,

Happy Birthday, baby.

The big twenty-five. I wish I was with you to spend it with you. This is the first one I'm missing, and I don't like the feel of that, baby.

I got you a gift or several. I filled your half of the closet with clothes I know you'll love with the help of some old ladies, and I bought you a Range Rover. I know you've always wanted one. It's waiting for you, just like I am.

I hope you"re having a good day, even if it means being with someone else.

I hate the thought of anyone touching you, but I know deep in my heart that you are mine, and no one"s touch will feel the same.

Come home to me, Pixie; I'll be waiting for you always.

I love you.

Your Lucas x

I sniffle as more tears fall, and I put the letter back, placing it in stack of letters I've already read, but there's still so many more to read.

Shaking my head, I move to pick up the box, knowing I've had my fill, when my phone rings beside me on my bed, and I quickly answer it.

"Hey, Alex," I whisper with a croak, my throat hurting from my sobbing.

He sighs. "I take it you're reading some more of his letters?"

I sniffle and admit, "Yeah, this one was from my birthday. He was willing to let me live my life and wait for me."

He hums and says, "I'd bet my Harley the next letter straight after that one he takes back his words."

I raise my brow and state, "Really?"

He hums, and I decide to call him on it. I grab the next letter and read it out loud.

"My Dearest Pixie,

I wrecked my bike again and may have fucked up my leg.

The thought of anyone touching you sent me in a spin.

I want you to be happy and in love, but I want that with me; no one else can have you. Please don't try to move on with someone else, baby, please. Eight years is a long time to love someone, and letting you go is impossible.

I'm drowning, baby, and Mom and Dad can see it. I'm scaring them, but all I can think about is you. I can't breathe, Ken, I need you.

Come home, baby, please just come home.

I love you.

Your Lucas x."

I suck in a breath at his words.

"Well, my bike isdefinitely safe. Fuck me…" Alex rasps, and I wipe my tears.

I gently put the letter with the other one I've just read and whisper, "He called Aunt Shelly Mom…."

Alex takes a deep breath. "I heard, darling, and that, fuck, that is a big step for him after his momma bounced." I sniffle, and he whispers, "Please tell me you're not going to break him, Ken. You're my cousin, and I love you, but every time I call, you're in tears after reading a letter, and I'm guessing they all express how much pain he is in, pain we all missed. Please don't hurt my brother, Kennedy, please."

I don't say anything for a moment, my eyes on the box of letters that I still haven't finished reading through, because there are so many. I can't get through two without blubbering.

"Look," he says, "I am always on your side, you know this, but darling, I probably would have made the same choice he did if it were Quinn. You buried a body, Ken. People think the fucker is on the run after so many girls came forward claiming rape, but the body is still behind your family home. He's done what he thought was right to save you, to stop you from being locked up. He loves you, Kennedy, and I have had to watch my brother fall into a deep depression…." He sighs. "Dad mentioned he thought he was suicidal."

I squeeze my eyes tight. I love that he's calling Crow Dad, but I hate knowing Lucas went down that route, just like I did.

My breath stutters, and I whisper, "I-I, I need to figure out a way to tell him, Alex…."

He curses and asks, "Layla?"

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Yeah. We can't move forward until everything is out in the open. I never told him about her, I never allowed him to say goodbye…."

He reminds me, "You thought Prue had a miscarriage."

I sniffle, wiping away my tears. "It's no excuse, Alex. I just…. I need to go radio silent with him for a little while, or at least until I return. I need to get my head on straight and figure out how to tell him about Layla…and what I tried to do."

He sighs. "He's already struggling with it, Ken."

"I know," I reply. "And I know it's selfish, but a lot has been said lately, a lot of truths being revealed. I just need some time. I love him so much, and my hurt nearly destroyed me, and now I need to overcome the fact that I destroyed him and kept his daughter from him, when he was just trying to protect me. He was my best friend, Alex ,and instead of hearing him out, I ran."

Alex is silent for a moment, then says, "You didn't keep her from him, Ken, but I get it. I uh, I may have to tell him who you are to me, though; the fucker looks ready to kill me each time he hears you've been in contact with me."

I snort, knowing he's not lying, before discussing travel plans. We agreed that he would fly here and help me load up my car, and drive back with me, making it a road trip.

"Okay, I think that's everything. Have you told Dr. Harlow?" he asks, and I smile.

"I did, and she cried. She was hoping I'd choose to stay in New York, but we both know I can't. I need to come home," I replied.

"You"re right; you do need to come home," he answers me back, making me chuckle.

I think it's time I stop running and start to face my problems head-on.

A few hours later, after speaking with Noah and Quinn, who thankfully is healing after her shooting, I'm spinning my phone in my hand. There's one person I need to tell I'm leaving.

In a perfect world, I would give him a real chance and leave my past behind me, allowing Lucas to move on, too. But we're not in an ideal world, and as nice as Austen is, there's no spark on my end.

He's not Lucas, and I've been in denial, thinking I can move on from him.

Sighing, I pull up Austen's number and put the phone to my ear. It's seven in the evening, but hopefully, he isn't entertaining.

He answers on the fourth ring and says, "Well, it's about time you called; I was going to send out a search party."

I wince at his words, and guilt hits me.

"I'm sorry, Austen," I whisper. He doesn't deserve this treatment.

He sighs, "Let me guess, you want to break up?"

I furrow my brows and ask, "Is it breaking up when we're casual?"

He laughs and says, "I guess not, but it still hurts…."

I snort. "So you're telling me you're not entertaining right now?"

He laughs again. "Alright, you got me there, but I would have stopped fucking around for you."

I hum and say, "Of course, you would have; you're the sweetest guy I know."

"Just not the one you want, huh?" he replies, and I flinch as he continues, "Let me guess: You're going back to the guy who hurt you? Were you ever going to give me a chance, Kennedy?"

My eyes fill with unshed tears, and I admit, "It's hard to give someone a real chance when someone else owns your whole heart. I…." I shake my head. "I thought he didn't love me. I thought he used me, but I was wrong, Austen. It turns out, my running away without letting him explain, I hurt him—no, I destroyed him to the point he kept wrecking his bike." I sniffle. "I hurt him so much he became suicidal, and I didn't even know it."

"And you"re sure this just isn't all talk, that your family isn't trying to get you to come home?" Austen inquires.

I huff. "If it is, then the hundreds of letters sitting on my coffee table full of his pain and anger, begging me to come home, sure are convincing."

He's quiet for a moment before he rasps, "Fuck…. If that's not love, then I don't know what is. Hundreds of letters…. Fuck."

I chuckle a little. "Yeah…. I am sorry, though. I did want to try with you, I really did, it's just…."

He finishes my sentence, "He's your heart."

"He is," I reply.

He offers, "This isn't goodbye, Ken. I still want to be your friend, even if you return to Texas. Plus, it'll piss off your man."

I chuckle at that, ignoring the "your man" bit. We talk for a few more minutes, and I promise to stay in touch. I hang up with a heavy heart.

In another life, he probably would have been mine, but with Lucas, no one can compare.

I look at my mantel, my gaze drifting to my daughter's urn, and my heart hurts.

How can he ever forgive me for not telling him about her, not giving him a chance to say goodbye?

How can I forgive him for choosing Prue to protect me without speaking to me first?

How can we move past all the hurt and pain?