Chapter 31

Kent

The crystal tinkle of scotch glasses punctuates the low hum of conversation at Joe Fortes, a bar that's a sanctuary of dark wood and amber lighting. I take a slow sip, the twenty-five-year-old scotch warm and peaty as it slides down my throat. Griffin's gaze, both knowing and tired, fixes on me across the table.

"Kent, you've got to stop this," he says. "You can't keep mooning over Amelia."

Before I can muster a defense, the heavy door swings open, and in stride Henry, Phillip, and Davis, Griffin's brothers, each with their own brand of charisma. They pull up chairs, and the waiter brings another round of scotches without us having to ask. The conversation shifts to the Hospitals Across Canada fundraiser this weekend, but I'm only half-listening, with thoughts of Amelia like ghosts between the words.

Phillip leans in, breaking through my reverie with a nudge to my arm. "I've got someone for you to meet at the fundraiser. A friend of Tricia's—single, smart, gorgeous," he says, a matchmaker's glint in his eye.

It's been two months since I screwed up with Amelia. She has been on my mind every single day. But I can't seem to find her. I stop by her place after my shifts sometimes, but she doesn't answer the door. I go to Sip on occasion, because we went there a few times, and I know she used to hang out there, but I've never seen her. She doesn't respond to calls or texts. I don't know how I'm going to find her again.

"Sure," I relent, the word tasting of scotch and resignation.

This is the last thing I want to be doing after a long day of work. But somehow, I didn't feel right saying no. The evening sun throws long shadows across the hallway as I knock on Leah's door. We've hardly spoken since her breakdown at the café two months ago, and I'm regretting my promise to help her with the mousetrap. All I want is a hot shower and to collapse into bed. But Leah has never been able to handle rodents, dead or alive, and friendship dictates that I show up in times of need.

She swings the door open, the smooth silk of her robe catching the dying light, casting shimmering waves over her figure. "Kent! Thank God you're here," she breathes, her relief palpable.

"Leah," I begin, stepping into the familiar scent of her apartment—vanilla and something floral that always reminds me of spring. "Show me where the little guy met his fate, and I'll have it out of your sight in no time."

"Would you like a drink first?" she asks, a hopeful lilt to her voice that I brush off as mere politeness.

"No, thanks. Do you have plans tonight? I don't want to intrude more than necessary." My fingers are already itching for the task ahead so I can retreat to my own solitude.

"Plans?" she echoes, her dark eyes fixing on mine. In one fluid motion, Leah lets the silk robe fall to the floor, revealing far more skin than fabric. My throat constricts as I'm suddenly faced with her almost-naked form, the air between us charged with an unexpected electricity.

"Kent," she says, her tone a mixture of confidence and vulnerability. "Remember how incredible it was when we were together? Now that Amelia's not in the picture… I want more. More than just being the friend who calls you to deal with mice."

"Leah…" Feeling ambushed, the word comes out strained. My mind races, but I keep myself rooted to the spot. This isn't what I came for, and it certainly isn't what I need right now. I thought I was clear about that at dinner.

"Kent," she says, stepping closer, her gaze intense, "you know friendship is the foundation of any solid relationship."

I take an involuntary step back, my discomfort nearly tangible. My head screams for me to set this right, to avoid having our friendship crumble. "Yes, friendship is important," I concede, "but that's exactly what I value between us. Just friendship. I said that to you when you kissed me at the café." The words feel clumsy, too blunt for the fragile moment we're tangled in.

She looks at me, her eyes searching, and I see the shift in her expression, the hope fading into something wounded. "But, Kent, think about it. We're good together. I know you. I care about you. Isn't that enough?"

"Leah, I'm sorry," I say, feeling the weight of her devastation and my own resolve. "I never meant to lead you on. If I gave you the wrong impression, it was never my intention." The apology lingers between us, heavy and inadequate.

"Then what are we, Kent?" Her voice cracks, and I can see her trying to hold herself together.

"Friends," I say firmly. "Or at least, I thought so. But if we can't have that without these…complications, maybe we can't be anything at all."

The finality in my words stings, yet I know it's the only way forward. I can't give her what she wants, and it would be cruel to pretend otherwise. With one last apologetic look, I turn away, leaving her with the shards of a friendship that might never be whole again.

I slip into the driver's seat, my hands shaking from the night's unforeseen calamity. The dashboard lights brighten as I start the car, but the glow from my phone screen pulls my gaze. Notifications swarm like a hive of angry bees, the group chat is alight with activity.

Leah: Kent just walked out on me. After he kissed me and blew up my world, I told him how I felt and he left.

That is not at all what happened, but I'm not going to get in the middle of Leah's pity party for one.

Phoebe: Leah, OMG, are you okay?

Danielle: Kent! How dare you lead her on the way you have to just treat her like this. She bared her heart to you, and you just leave her? Uncool, man.

Or pity party for many. I don't get it. My heart sinks, and the conversation spirals without me, each message another cut. Sides are taken, none in my favor. With a decisive swipe, I exit the chat, severing myself from the group with a finality that mirrors the closure I sought with Leah.

I drive mindlessly across town as my mind races through tonight's wreckage. Without announcement or invitation, I find myself at Cordelia's doorstep, uncertainty heavy in my chest.

"Kent?" Cordelia opens the door, surprise on her face as she steps aside to let me in.

"Hey, Cordy," I manage, greeted by the comforting scent of home-cooked food and the distant sound of William's laughter from somewhere inside.

"Something's wrong. Talk to me," she urges, leading me to the living room where William pauses the baseball game, his concern mirroring his wife's.

"Leah… She thought there was more between us," I confess, the words tasting bitter. "And when I told her no, she turned it against me, told everyone I led her on."

"Ah, Kent, you know how those women can be," Cordelia says without judgment, though her eyes hold a knowing glint.

"I just can't shake Amelia," I admit, feeling suffocated by my own longing. "Even now, she's all I think about."

"Then go after her, Kent," Cordelia insists. "Fight for her. I always said there was something special between you two."

William nods in agreement, his silent support anchoring me.

"If this is how they've left things, those women were never really your friends. They wanted you for something else," Cordelia continues, her hand finding mine in a squeeze of solidarity. "You did a lot for them, but now, you need to do what it takes to get back what's really important."

I nod, a plan yet to form but the resolve settling in. Cordelia's words ignite a spark within me, a mission to reclaim the love I foolishly let slip away.

Cordy offers me a drink, and William seems ready to entertain me for the evening, but I need to go.

Thanking them, I step out into the night, Cordelia's words lingering like a beacon in my mind. My fingers hesitate over the phone as I draw it from my pocket. The screen comes to life under the touch of my thumb as I compose a message, words that feel like they carry the weight of my world.

Me: Amelia, I've been an ass. I didn't see things as clearly as you did with that group of women friends. I'm sorry.

I hit send, watching the little bubble with bated breath, hoping for a sign of delivery, but it hangs there, unsent, unacknowledged.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut. She's blocked me. Panic flares briefly, extinguished by the numbness of not having any way to reach her now. How do you mend bridges when every path is barred?

As I stand here in front of Cordy's house, locked in indecision, my phone rings. Joanna's name flashes across the screen. I consider ignoring the call, but I'm tired of avoiding things. Maybe being direct is a better choice with these women. So, I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Kent? I just heard what went down with Leah," she says without preamble, her voice tight with restrained anger. "She's got no right to twist things like this. And Phoebe and Danielle are upset, but honestly, they should know better."

"I thought we were all friends." Forcing myself to move, I get in my car to finish the conversation.

She sighs. "That's what I thought too. You were always our knight in shining armor. I'm not sure when things went sideways. I don't have time for most of their long daily chats, so I think I missed the direction things have been going. But regardless, I want you to know this isn't on you. This is on them, and on Leah especially. I told them as much, and they've kicked me out of the group."

"Thanks, Jo." My reply is weary. "It's a mess, and I'm sorry this is where we've ended up, but maybe it's for the best. That wasn't a healthy situation for any of us. If there's one thing I'm sure of now, it's that I need to make things right with Amelia."

"Good," she replies. "You two had something real. And hey, I'm here for you, okay? Whatever you need to get back on track with her, just say the word."

"Appreciate it," I murmur, gratitude warming me despite the chill of the night. At least one friendship remains. Hanging up, I pocket the phone and lift my gaze to the sky, where the city lights fail to obscure the stars.

I have a mission. Now, all I need is a plan.