Chapter 25
25
KANNON
N either of us spoke for a while after that. We both ate our dinner and drank the wine. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Well, I knew there was a lot to say, but untangling the right words felt like trying to separate knotted strings in the dark.
I kept replaying the words I said to her. I watched her let my words sink in and gave myself a mental kick in the ass. I wished I had voiced them a decade earlier. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, filled with too many unsaid apologies and forgotten memories.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Good.” I nodded. “Really good.”
“It’s a little congealed,” she said.
“Probably would have been perfect when it was fresh,” I said. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. It’s still good. Maybe next time.”
I liked the idea she was giving me a chance for a next time.
“I’m stuffed,” I said after cleaning my plate.
“Do you want more?” she offered.
I chuckled. “I couldn’t. I really am full.”
She smiled. “I guess there will be leftovers.”
Together, we stood and started the cleanup process. There was a strange feeling in my chest as I stood at Merritt’s sink, rinsing off plates while she dried. It felt oddly domestic—something I hadn’t experienced in years. Her soft humming tugged at something buried deep in my chest, a place I hadn’t let myself visit in a long time.
“I’m not going to push you, but if you’d like to talk to me about your wife or anything, I’m here,” she said.
For too long, I had been keeping Leah to myself. I didn’t talk about her—ever. I didn’t let anyone talk about her when I was around. I locked her memory away in a box and refused to open it. But now that it was out there, I felt like it was okay to talk about it. It wasn’t easy, but if we were starting fresh, honesty seemed like the only way.
We finished cleaning up and moved to sit at the flimsy card table once again. She refilled her glass of wine, but I passed, knowing I had to get back on my bike again.
“I met her at the motorcycle dealership,” I said, the memory filtering in. “She was the one who sold me my new bike.”
Merritt looked at me with some surprise. “She sold bikes? That’s kind of badass.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, it was. She knew more about them than most of the guys in the shop. I watched this dude walk right past her to talk to some other salesman, acting like she couldn’t possibly help him. But Leah didn’t let it slide. She stepped in, schooled the guy on torque specs, and sold him the bike he didn’t even know he wanted.”
“That sounds pretty amazing,” Merritt said with a faint smile.
“It kind of was. I asked her out that same day. Told her if she could ride as well as she talked bikes, I needed to see it.”
Merritt’s smile wavered as she took a sip from her glass. “What happened after that?”
I shrugged, drying my hands. “We bonded over riding. She had this sleek crotch rocket, fast as hell. She didn’t have the same reckless streak I do, but she loved the road just as much. Those first six months? They were good. Really good. It was so easy and fun. We were always out riding looking for the coolest places to visit. She knew a lot of back roads and so did I. We probably put a million miles on our bikes.”
I took a moment to cherish those early memories. She should have been perfect for me. I should have been crazy in love.
“And after that?” she asked softly.
I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. “We tried to claw our way back to those first six months. Every fight, every misunderstanding, we kept chasing that feeling, but it was gone. Leah had her demons, and I had mine. She got jealous, especially when she found out about you.”
She looked confused. “About me?”
“She knew there was someone else.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I left.”
“Merritt, like I said, there was always you,” I said. “We might not have talked about it, but you have to know it was always there.”
She nodded and didn’t make me spell it all out. “How did she find out about me?”
“She knew you were Gary’s daughter.”
“What?” Merritt’s voice rose, a mix of disbelief and something else—hurt, maybe. “My dad? I’m confused. How did she know my father?”
I laughed softly, running a hand through my hair. “I saw your dad every other Sunday after you left. From the day you went to Miami until about a week before we lost him.”
Her face softened at the mention of her father. “You kept visiting him? I didn’t know…”
Just thinking about Gary had me reaching for the wine. It wasn’t enough to make me drunk. Hell, it wasn’t even enough for a buzz. I took a long drink anyway, thinking back to the last time I saw Gary. He’d been in bad shape. The nurses told me it wouldn’t be long. But they had been saying that and I never fully believed it. Until he was gone.
“Leah hated it,” I admitted. “Drove her nuts that I wouldn’t bail on the guy. She went with me once. Your dad didn’t know who I was. She knew he wasn’t my family. I told her he was a friend of a friend, which really confused her. Gary wasn’t always nice when I stopped by. Sometimes, I had to leave five minutes after I got there because he was convinced I was someone else. I didn’t want to upset him.”
Merritt nodded. “He didn’t know who I was.”
“Once she figured out he was your dad, she couldn’t let it go,” I said with a sigh. “You were the girl everyone said I’d never get over. The one I…”
I trailed off, the words too heavy to say out loud. But Merritt wasn’t letting me off that easy.
“The girl you what?” she pressed, her voice barely above a whisper.
She leaned forward. I didn’t know if she realized she was doing it. I studied her, the way her hair fell loose around her face, the way her eyes searched mine for something she wasn’t sure she wanted to find. “The girl I made promise me she wouldn’t go breaking my heart by falling in love at college and forgetting about me,” I finally said.
She looked down, like she was too ashamed to look me in the eyes. “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t what?” I asked.
“I didn’t forget about you, and I definitely never fell in love with anyone.”
I stared at her, willing her to look me in the eyes. I needed to see her face to know if she was lying. “No?” I asked. “I find it hard to believe you have been single this whole time. You just said you are successful. You’re certainly beautiful. I don’t believe you’ve managed to stay single for ten years.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said quickly. “I never fell for anyone. I never dated seriously. But I guess I fell in love with my job, with climbing the ladder. With Miami. I loved being this strong, independent woman who made it on her own. I loved that I was in a big city far away from home and kicking ass.”
“I guess so,” I murmured, the weight of those years settling between us like a giant boulder. “We’re different in that regard.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were always the one that wanted to get out of Dallas and see the world, Merritt. I was content to stay here. To be honest, I’m still content to stay here. I have never been interested in conquering the world. I just like being free.”
She looked hurt but tried her best to hide it. “I wanted to experience new things, see new places,” she said defensively.
“And you did,” I said.
There was silence for a moment. She picked at the edge of the plastic cup her wine was in. “Do you resent me for leaving?”
“No, Merritt,” I answered honestly. “I don’t resent you for leaving. I envy you. You had the courage to leave everything behind and chase your dreams. I just wish…”
“You just wish what?” she asked.
“I just wish you had wanted me to be a part of those dreams,” I confessed. I smiled bitterly as her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Rather, I think I was hoping you would chase your dreams and realize me and Dallas were where you wanted to be.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I feel selfish.”
“You’re not selfish. I’m the one that’s selfish for thinking I had any claim to you. I had no right to try and hold you back.”
“You didn’t try to hold me back. Are you comfortable talking about Leah?”
I shrugged. “Somewhat.”
She hesitated. “How did Leah die? Was it a motorcycle accident?”
I shook my head. “No. It was on her way to work. Same route she’d taken every day for six years. Someone ran a red light. Hit her car. And just like that, everything flipped.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes shining with tears. “Kannon, I’m so sorry.”
“Everybody is,” I said simply. “But I’m okay. Slowly, I’ve been moving forward. Your dad helped me a lot after it happened. Even when his mind started to go, he’d sit and listen. He always knew what to say—or when to say nothing at all. Half the time I don’t think he even knew who I was. He certainly had no clue who this Leah person was, but he always listened.”
Merritt nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “He was good at that. I wish I had shared more with him before he died.”
I wanted to tell her he’d forgiven her for that, but instead, I offered a memory. “He talked about you all the time, you know. Even toward the end, when he wasn’t quite himself. He’d remember you as a little girl, clear as day. One time, he told me about this birthday breakfast you made him when you were a kid.”
Her eyes lit up, laughter bubbling past her lips. “Oh no. Not that story.”
“Oh yes,” I said, grinning. “He said it was so bad, he had to sneak it to the dog while you weren’t looking.”
Her laughter grew, tears streaming down her face. She wiped at them with her sleeve. “It was scrambled eggs and toast! How bad could it have been?”
“Apparently, bad enough,” I teased, unable to stop myself from laughing with her. “He told me the toast was so black and hard, he was afraid he would chip a tooth if he finished it. Not even the dog would eat it.”
She burst into laughter. “And that dog ate everything!” she managed to sputter out between fits of laughter. “I swear, even his own tail if it weren’t attached!”
It felt strange, this camaraderie between us after all these years. Like a part of us had never grown up, never moved away. Never suffered any losses. We were just Kannon and Merritt—two people who had shared laughter, tears, and something far deeper than either of us could put into words.
As the laughter faded, a comfortable silence settled over us. Merritt reached across the table, her hand brushing against the part of my own hand that wasn’t shredded from the road.
“I missed this,” she admitted softly. “I missed you.”
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I missed you too, Merritt. More than you’ll ever know.”