Chapter 24

24

MERRITT

T he fork clinked against my plate as I stabbed at another piece of chicken that I knew I wouldn’t eat. The creamy alfredo sauce, perfectly seasoned and homemade, looked divine. But my appetite was long gone, buried somewhere under the weight of guilt, exhaustion, and the jagged edges of my fight with Kannon.

Lucia’s voice still echoed in my mind from our earlier phone call, soothing but firm, telling me to stop spiraling. “You poked the bear,” she’d said. “But he didn’t have to maul you.”

I sighed, pushing the plate away. She was right—mostly. I never should have gone behind Kannon’s back, digging into his life through Riggs. But that didn’t excuse the way he’d lashed out at me. Or did it?

Ugh. It was all so confusing.

I shouldn’t have butted my nose in. His life was his business. But I couldn’t help it. The concern had gnawed at me, incessant and overwhelming, until I found myself asking questions I had no right to ask. I was curious about him. I wanted to know what happened to the young man that had been my best friend. The guy that could make me laugh even when I was feeling sad. My best friend, who once shared all his dreams with me, dreams we had naively believed we could conquer side by side. What had changed? Where had all that light in his eyes gone?

I could have asked him directly. That would have been the mature thing to do. But I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be interested in telling me about his wife. That still blew my mind. I couldn’t believe he had been married.

Married!

I didn’t know if I felt jealous or sad because he lost her. When I was young, I used to fantasize about me and Kannon getting married. Even though we hadn’t talked in ten years, there was this feeling deep in my heart that he was supposed to be mine. It was naive to think he would simply wait around for me. He was an attractive man and naturally he moved on. But still, the realization stung.

And to know he didn’t tell me. He didn’t want me to know. That hurt. It was like he was trying to keep me out of his life. It was silly, but it was the way I felt. I should have known. I should have congratulated him on his marriage. And I should have been there when he lost her. I used to be his best friend. I should have known, and I should have been there to help him through it all.

But he didn’t want me. He didn’t even want me to know.

A sharp knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I obviously wasn’t expecting anyone, which I hoped meant it was Kannon. I didn’t hear the motorcycle, but I had been lost in thought. When I opened the door, I gasped.

It was Kannon, standing under the porch light. He looked like he’d crawled through hell. His jeans were torn, his jacket scuffed, and faint streaks of dried blood ran down his knuckles. His dark hair was wild, and even though his expression was calm, his eyes told a different story.

Genuine fear rolled through me.

“What happened to you?” I whispered, my voice catching.

He reached for me, but his hand stopped short, hovering like he wasn’t sure if he had the right anymore. “I’m fine. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

I glanced over his shoulder where his bike sat in the driveway. In the porchlight, the damage to it was obvious even from here—scraped paint, bent handlebars, a muffler that looked half-destroyed.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like he’d swallowed a pint of gravel.

Every rational part of me screamed to say no. I should’ve told him to leave until he apologized, to demand an explanation for why he’d treated me like I was some nosy stranger instead of someone who cared. But I stepped aside and let him in. The man obviously needed help.

He brushed past me. His presence overwhelmed the room. I shut the door behind him and took a second to calm my racing heart. When I turned around, he was there, filling every inch of my personal space.

“Kannon—” I started, but before I could finish, he pulled me into his arms. His embrace was fierce, like he needed me more than air. His lips crashed down on mine, his hand sliding into my hair, anchoring me to him.

I melted into him for a moment, my hands curling into the worn fabric of his jacket. The kiss was everything I had missed, everything I hadn’t let myself want for years. But then my brain caught up with my body, and I pushed against his chest.

“Kannon, stop,” I murmured, pulling back.

He groaned, reluctant, his forehead resting against mine. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him and give in to the desire, but I couldn’t. I refused to let myself get caught up in another moment of passion. Clearly, he had a near-death experience, and this was him celebrating the fact he was alive. I got it. It was an adrenaline rush, and he wanted sex.

But I had a little more pride and self-respect than that.

“You can’t speak to me the way you did and then kiss me like this. It doesn’t work that way.”

There was a flicker of regret in his eyes.

“And I won’t kiss you like this until I apologize for going behind your back,” I said. “I’m sorry, Kannon. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have snooped into your life. There’s a right way to do things and that wasn’t it.”

“You had your reasons,” he said quietly.

“They weren’t good enough. I wouldn’t appreciate someone gossiping about me behind my back. It was out of line, and I shouldn’t have done it. I won’t do it again.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t think you’re broken or need fixing. All the things I said… I wish I could take them back.”

I blinked hard against the sting of tears. “Honestly? I wish you could, too.”

He searched my face, like he was trying to figure out how to make it right. “How can I fix this?”

I hesitated, biting my lip. “You can stay for dinner, like we planned. But no kissing, no touching. Just talking.”

He nodded, stepping back to give me space. “Fair enough.”

“Maybe you should, uh, wash your hands,” I said and gestured to his bloody hands.

He looked down. “Must have broken open on the way over.”

“Go wash up and then you’re going to tell me what happened,” I said. “You’re walking and talking, and you don’t look like you have anything wrong with your brain, which meant you were wearing your helmet. I won’t rush you to the hospital, but I do want to know what happened.”

“Fine. Can you help me get my jacket off?”

“Of course.”

I gingerly pulled the coat off, peeling the sleeves down and getting a glimpse at the extensive road rash on his elbow. Surprisingly, the other arm seemed untouched. I had an unpleasant vision of him sliding across the highway and had to shake it off.

As he began to wash his hands, I turned away, unable to watch as he winced with each touch of water on his broken skin.

“Thank you,” he said softly, reaching for a towel.

I prepared a plate for him and popped it in the microwave. The meal had been great an hour ago. I collected my own plate and reheated it as well. The small card table I bought sat in the dining room. I brought over the other folding chair for him to sit in. I realized my mistake of selling all of the furniture and then deciding to live in the house for a month. But it did make it easier for me to get all the work done.

“So,” I said, breaking the tension. “What have you been up to for the past ten years?”

He chuckled softly, his fork twirling absentmindedly in his pasta. “You first.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Okay. After college, I landed a job with a consulting firm. My mentor was incredible—tough but fair. She pushed me to be better, and I kept climbing the ladder until I landed where I am now.”

“And where is that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“A senior consultant. Stable, secure, independent.” I shrugged. “All the things I wanted. I have a good job and have the opportunity to keep climbing.”

He smiled faintly, nodding. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

“Are you?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

His jaw tightened for a moment before he answered. “I am now. But a few years ago? No. I was bitter as hell that you left and never looked back.”

I flinched at his honesty but didn’t look away. “When I first left, I did call you a few times.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Were you mad that I moved to Florida?”

He paused, considering his words for a moment. “No, I don’t think it was ever about you moving to Florida. I think I was more upset that you didn’t ask me to come with you.”

My heart skipped a beat, the regret welling up in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to be as bitter as he’d been ten years ago. I reached for the bottle of wine that was supposed to be part of our fancy dinner. Now, it felt like a necessity. I poured each of us a glass, feeling like this was the kind of conversation that required some alcohol.

“To be honest with you…” he started, then stopped. He picked up his glass but didn’t drink from it, merely held it, turning it absently in his hands. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to be part of your new life.”

“Why would you think that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just felt like you were moving on. You got your ticket out of here and you weren’t going to look back.”

“I hate that neither of us made the first move,” I said.

“I thought marrying another woman and starting a life with her would force me to leave you behind,” he said, his voice quieter now as he twirled his fork. “But all arrows have always pointed to you, Merritt Jacobs. My sanity be damned.”

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t think or speak. It was the thing I had been waiting to hear forever. I had long ago given up on ever hearing him say he wanted me.

“Kannon…”

He shook his head, cutting me off. “No, let me finish. I don’t regret loving Leah. She deserved every ounce of love I gave her. But even she knew—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “She knew my heart had always been yours first.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away, unsure what to say.

“I’m not telling you this to guilt you,” he continued. “I just need you to know. I’ve spent so long trying to bury this, trying to convince myself that what I felt for you wasn’t real or didn’t matter. But it’s always mattered.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away hastily, trying to find the right words.

“I didn’t leave because I didn’t care,” I finally said. “I left because I thought it was the only way to protect myself. I thought… I thought if I stayed, I’d always be waiting for you to decide I wasn’t enough.”

His eyes darkened, pain flashing across his face. “You’ve always been enough, Merritt. More than enough.”