Chapter 25

Kenna

"What?" I snapped, feeling like the skies had opened up over my head.

Despite the heat that still hovered over the Keys this late in the year, my feet felt frozen to the pavement. Dec's face had gone ashen under his perpetual tan, a dead giveaway that the reporter shouting behind us was not out of his mind like I instantly thought when he called Dec the name of the old country singer that had disappeared off the face of the map.

"Get in the truck," Dec managed to say between clenched teeth. "I'll explain."

"No." I tugged my hand loose from his grip and stood my ground. Ground I hadn't stood before my divorce. "What's your name?"

Dec looked over my shoulder, panic mixing in with the anger in his gaze. When he looked back at me, he looked ready to drop to his knees to beg for my cooperation.

"Kenna, please. Get in the truck so I can explain without reporters listening in."

It was that please and that reminder that the world would know my business that got my feet to move. My last situation with a man had ended in my own professional humiliation and I wouldn't allow that again. Dec certainly had things to explain and I didn't want any of that to become gossip meant for everyone's entertainment.

He held out his hand to help me into the truck, but I grabbed the handle and got in with my own limbs. I couldn't touch him right now. Couldn't even look at him as he got in the driver's side of the truck and peeled out of the parking lot. As we raced through Sunshine Key, I found my arms folded over my chest as if I was unconsciously trying to hold myself together. When Dec told me he loved me, it was all I could do not to shout it back. To finally give voice to all the feelings that had crept up on me over the summer. To admit out loud with both relief and trepidation that my heart hadn't been permanently damaged by what Justin had done.

Now my heart felt like it was shattering all over again.

Debogglan?

Dec Boggs?

My chin dropped to my chest. I was an idiot. Yet again. The joke was always on me. My eyes popped open, focused on my charm bracelet, the talisman that was to be a shiny symbol of who I was at my core and who I was becoming again. Now I just wanted to rip the damn thing off my wrist and never see it again.

"Is it true?" I asked quietly, tearing my gaze away from the charms and focusing on the beautiful water that lay before the truck as Dec put it into park on the side of the causeway.

He didn't reach over to touch me. Didn't even look at me.

"Yes. My name is Declan Boggan. When I sang, my band and I went by Debogglan."

I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain lancing through my chest. There it was. Confirmation I was truly an idiot. An idiot to trust again. An idiot to fall in love again. I'd known he was holding himself back from me and I'd fallen anyway. That was on me this time.

I was so fucking sick of being the joke.

Anger rubbed out the hurt spots, giving me energy and a source of power to draw from when all I wanted was to go hide in Aunt Maeve's house and never come out again.

I held up my wrist, turning my murderous glare on Dec. His gaze met mine for a brief second before he looked away, hurt or shame or anger twisting his features.

"You see this bracelet?" I held out the link that was bent. That little sliver of silver had one time held my favorite charm, the one I fancifully told myself had been my biological father's favorite too. "It once held a good luck charm. A charm I tried to give to my favorite country singer because he talked about his dead Irish mother in an interview once. Every word of every song you sang somehow tapped into something in me. I was obsessed with Debogglan. I felt…connected somehow. Felt the pain of your loss like my own. Like maybe you needed that charm more than I did." I huffed, feeling so incredibly stupid. "Turns out you're a liar just like everyone else."

"Kenna," Dec breathed, reaching for me but yanking his hand back when the news van pulled up next to us. "Fuck!"

I slid out the passenger door of his truck, not wanting to be part of whatever was happening here. That was Dec's mess to deal with, not mine. He was the one with secrets, not me. As Lars shouted through the window at Dec, I hurried up the embankment to the causeway, my sandals slapping against the pavement. The downtown area was just ahead. I needed to find Char. She'd give me a ride home.

Home.

Dammit, Aunt Maeve's house had truly become home to me. But now it was tainted by the man living next door. The man whose fingerprints and memories were all over my house. If he'd lied about his identity, what else had he lied about? What other secrets could blindside me at an inopportune time?

No. I couldn't think about that right now. I needed to get home and sort out everything that had been revealed first. Then I could deal with the fallout. The shiny glass door of Char's salon came into view and I broke out into a run, so focused on getting to her that I didn't even notice the other people on the sidewalk or the cars zooming by. I flung it open, two other hairdressers' heads popping up as their hands were busy on their client's heads.

"Char?" My voice was no more than a croak.

"In the back, hun," one of them said kindly, pointing to the door in the corner.

I hurried through the salon and nearly sagged with relief when Char's head lifted from the table where she was eating a snack.

"Kenna?" she asked, dropping the food and standing immediately. I fell into her arms, letting her hold me as she shoved the door closed for privacy. "What is going on, sweetie?"

I felt like I hadn't slept in several days. My fatigue from the events of today were finally catching up to me. I pulled back from her hug and twisted to have a seat on the small couch in the break room. Char sat next to me, patiently waiting me out.

"Dec," I began, but then sputtered out. I was angry, but I also didn't want to cause more trouble for him. "Do you know about him?"

Char's look turned cautious. "Are you talking about his past?"

I nodded emphatically.

"Oh, sweetie, did he finally tell you?" Char gripped my hands where they were twisting in my lap.

Tears filled my eyes. "No. But a reporter did."

"That dumbass cowboy has not one lick of sense in his thick skull," Char cursed, looking angry on my behalf. She squeezed my hands again. "Yeah, I knew, Kenna. The whole town knows and we protect his identity. None of us want the town overrun by paparazzi and gawkers."

I shook my head, mind absolutely blown today. "So everyone knows?" At her nod of confirmation, I started to process everything. "Holy crap, Char! He's a country music god! And I slept with him!"

Char's face instantly transformed into a wicked grin. "Yeah, you did. Nicely done, sweetie."

"No! That's not a good thing! I mean, I slept with him and didn't even know who he was. What a fool I must look like to him. Now I'm not sure if anything I believed about Dec is true!"

Char let go of my hands and sat back against the couch. "Listen. We don't keep Dec's secret to make fools out of people. Dec came here to escape, and everyone deserves a home where they can be themselves without their every move being on the front cover of a magazine. I won't tell you why he quit country music and moved here. That's his story to tell, and if he isn't a complete dumbass, he'll actually tell you before you hear it from someone else. But I need you to give him a chance to explain."

I huffed, feeling so defensive I wasn't sure I could listen to anything Char had to say in defense of the man who'd lied to me. "He had all summer to explain himself. Apparently what we had wasn't worth being honest."

Char put her arm around my shoulders. "Honey, that's the furthest thing from the truth. I agree with you though. He should have told you, but those kinds of things can't be rushed. If it wasn't for the reporter today, I'm sure he would have told you eventually."

I sagged against her. "But we can't be sure, can we?"

Char looked as sad as I felt. "I guess not," she finally said.

She took me home, offering to come in with me, but I turned her down. I needed to tell Mom what had transpired today before she heard it from Daniel. I needed some time on my own to figure out what I was going to do. But Mom wasn't home and neither was Daniel. The great big house was empty, something I tried not to take as a sign for things ahead.

I went upstairs and changed, washing off the makeup I'd worn for the interview and started drawing a warm bubble bath. After my hands became prunes and I was no closer to solving the problems in my personal life, I stepped out of the bath and headed for the closet for clean pajamas.

Aunt Maeve's urn stared down from the shelf where I'd been keeping her. The lusty mermaid wink seemed to mock me, a happy, irreverent resting place for a woman who'd lived life on her own terms. Aunt Maeve would never be the butt of a man's joke. She was so powerful in her feminine glory even after death, she'd saved my life, coming through with an escape plan that sent me on a new path. And look how I'd already messed that up.

"I'm trying, Aunt Maeve, I'm trying," I whispered, pulling on pajamas and crawling into bed even though it was still light out.