Chapter 6

KENNEDY'S HEART BEAT SO hard and fast, she wondered she didn't just bleed out from the pain of seeing him look at her with all that guilt and shame. She'd been prepared for him to hate her. Ready for him to rail and rant and curse her for slinking off in the middle of the night without a word. She deserved all of that and more. But he thought he was why she'd left. All these years, he'd thought it was because of that stupid fight. She'd barely even remembered it. Why would she, given what came after? But clearly he remembered, and he blamed himself.

The absolute wrongness of that had her stepping into him before she could think better of it, laying a hand over his heart. "Xander, I - " But what could she say to allay his fears? She couldn't tell him the truth, and she didn't want to lie. Another round of tears welled up as she realized all the other ways she'd hurt him besides just walking away. "I'm so sorry."

His hand covered hers, pinning it in place. "I get why you ran. But why stay away all this time?"

It was hard to force words past the knot in her throat. "I was afraid."

"Of me?" His stunned expression sucker punched her right in the gut.

"No! Never that. I - " Kennedy took a breath, struggling to sort out what scraps of truth she could give him. "I thought you'd hate me. You had every right. I handled things so badly. I hurt everybody with how I left, and I've been afraid to come back and face that. The longer I stayed away, the worse it got, until it became this huge, overwhelming thing I didn't know how to get past. I didn't feel worthy - of the family, of forgiveness. Everybody moved on with their lives, without me in them, and I had no idea how to come back from that. And...I was terrified to come home and see you with someone else." She swallowed, wishing she hadn't let that slip out. But once the words started coming, she couldn't seem to stop them. "It's not fair or reasonable. I'm the one who walked away. I don't get the right to be upset with you for moving on with your life. But I just - I couldn't be here to see it and remember what I threw away."

Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, as if by grabbing on now, she could somehow make up for all the years of distance, all the years of pain. A part of her wanted to keep going, to haul him into her and take his mouth, stripping the layers of clothes off that big, built body of his until they gave each other the gift of oblivion. She so desperately wanted that comfort and closeness with him. No one had ever made her feel like he did. But it wouldn't happen. After everything else she'd done, she'd never use him like that.

Before she could release him, Xander's hand slid around to cup her nape, tipping her face so she had to look at him. "There's no one else. There's never been anyone else who mattered."

Was he...Did he mean he'd waited for her?

The instant blast of yearning almost dropped Kennedy to her knees. To fall into his arms, into his bed, and shout yes to a question she wasn't even sure he was asking. She'd never even let herself imagine the possibility of picking back up where they'd left off, of getting the chance to build the life they'd so often dreamed of. She imagined it now, and her heart squeezed to aching. Because she knew what she could have with this man - if she had someone else's life. But she was stuck with her own life, with all its many mistakes, and they meant she couldn't have him now any more than she could a decade ago.

On the heels of that bitter thought, she was struck by a wave of fresh guilt. His life had been on hold - at least to some extent - because of her. Whether he'd been deliberately waiting for her or because he needed some kind of resolution, he'd lost ten years he could've been building his life with someone else. She didn't want that. The idea if it made her physically ill. But he deserved the chance for that, without her screwing it up.

"You're shaking." Xander's gaze skimmed over her. "Where's your coat?"

She wasn't cold. Not when her skin felt almost electrified where he touched her. "Left without it."

"You must be freezing." He slid his own coat off and swung it around her shoulders.

Kennedy barely resisted the urge to turn her face into the shoulder to inhale his scent as she slid her arms into the sleeves. Since they fell well past her wrists, Xander reached out himself and zipped her in. The fabric was still warm from his body, and she hugged it close, wishing it were him wrapping her up tight.

"C'mon. I'll take you home."

"I don't want to go home." Not that she knew what the alternatives were, but she simply couldn't face another round with her sisters tonight. Not when she felt as if she'd been flayed alive.

"Okay." The simple, easy acceptance relaxed her a fraction, enough that when he nudged her toward the trail, she fell into motion beside him. It never even occurred to Kennedy to fight it, his hold felt so right. Dangerous thinking. No matter what she wanted, she couldn't let him believe they could start this up again.

At the top of the trail, she stopped and gaped at his Bronco. "I can't believe you still have this thing."

"Why on Earth would I get rid of a solid piece of American-made steel?"

"Because it's older than we are, and you've probably paid for an entirely new car in parts by now?"

"Nah." Xander tapped the hood with affection. "Me and Jethro have been through too much to split up now."

Kennedy had spent many happy days with Xander, roaming Stone County in this thing. And quite a few nights steaming up the windows. It was impossible not to think of that as he popped the back hatch. Nerves jittered in her stomach at the idea of crawling back there with him again. Mostly because, despite her good intentions, she wasn't sure she could say no, and that was a bad, bad idea.

But after a couple of moments of digging, he came up with a quilt and shut the lift gate again. Circling around to the front, he opened the door and gestured her in. "It'll be warmer out of the wind."

Without a word, she clambered onto the bench seat ahead of him. He climbed in behind her and shut the door.

"Not much warmer in here," she said, realizing she was cold now that he wasn't touching her.

"It will be. Come here." Xander hauled her across the seat until her back was pressed to his chest, then flipped the blanket over them both.

It was an old, familiar gesture, one she should've resisted, for both their sakes. But she was so, so tired of being alone. If this was the only comfort she'd get, she would take it and be grateful. Relaxing against him, Kennedy willed herself not to give in to the urge to turn her face and rub it against his chest like a cat.

Xander's arms slid around her waist, as they had a hundred times before. How long had it been since someone had held her? Other than Flynn, had she trusted anyone enough for this? Just this simple touch. With a long sigh, Kennedy lay her head back against Xander's shoulder, feeling more content than she had any right to. But here was what she'd needed since her mother's death. What she'd needed for more years than she cared to admit. More than being home, more than being with her sisters, Xander had always been her safe place.

"Better?"

"Yeah." She wrapped her arms over his and let herself have the illusion that this wasn't just for tonight.

"Tell me about your travels. How did you manage it without having savings built up?" The warmth of his breath stirred her hair.

"Do you really want to hear about this? About what I've done since I left here?"

"After you left, I haunted the house, constantly stopping by, helping out. At first it was because I thought you'd turn up, and I wanted to be there when that happened. Then it was just hoping to catch any scrap of news about where you were or what you were doing. So yeah, I want to hear."

God, that hurt her heart to think about. But she did as he asked because it seemed a safer topic than some of the alternatives. "I took about a million odd jobs. Seasonal work. Trail guide. Tour guide. Ski instructor. House-sitted quite a bit professionally, so I didn't have to pay for lodging a lot of the time."

"That's a thing?"

"It is. I also bartended a lot. Waited tables. Worked as a hotel maid several times. Whatever came up. When nothing came up, I got really good at busking. Sang for my supper on more than one occasion."

"You've still got killer pipes. Joan would've liked that you sang."

Kennedy's throat went thick. "I don't want to talk about Mom," she whispered.

"Okay." He rested his cheek against her hair, and that, too, was familiar. "Then tell me where all you went."

So she did. Cuddled up in the cab of his ancient Bronco, Kennedy took him around the world to all the places she wished he could've been with her to see. She got drowsy wrapped in their little cocoon, but every time she stopped talking, he'd ask more questions. No matter how late it got, she didn't want to break the truce or spell or whatever it was that was holding the pain and grief at bay, so she answered, telling him story after story.

"Out of everywhere you've been, which place was your favorite?"

Kennedy didn't even have to think. "Ireland. It's the only country I kept going back to."

"Why's that?"

"I love it there. And I've got some good friends. I even, briefly, had a sort of music career, touring for a while."

"Really?" She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Really." She told him about Flynn and his merry band of gypsy musicians.

"So you and he...?" Xander's tone was casual. Deceptively so.

The idea that he was jealous gave Kennedy far too much satisfaction. She snorted a laugh. "Flynn Bohannon is the closest I've ever had to a brother, and that includes all of my assorted foster brothers."

"So he's family."

"He is." She sobered. "You could just ask."

"Ask what?"

"If I moved on."

"Did you?"

"I wasn't in any one place long enough to get serious with anybody." She could blame it on her mobility, but there simply hadn't been anyone who'd made her feel even a tenth of what she'd felt for Xander. What she still felt for him.

She shifted until she could look him in the face. "Xander." She didn't know what she wanted to say, what she wanted to ask. Then he cupped her face in that big, broad palm, and the words dried up, leaving nothing in their wake but a wanting she saw reflected in his eyes.

His thumb stroked her cheek, his gaze dropping to her mouth. "Kennedy."

Her breath quickened, and the air between them seemed to pulse. It was absolute madness to act on this. But had she ever used good sense when it came to Xander? She wanted him. She always had.

Her hand curled into his shirt as her heart began to thunder. The vinyl seat creaked as he shifted to lower his head.

"The sun's coming up." She blurted the words in a last ditch effort to save them both.

Xander blinked and looked out the windshield at the first sliver of daylight glimmering over the misty peaks.

The break in eye contact enabled her to regain a little control. "I should probably get home." When she pushed against his chest for leverage, he let her go, and Kennedy did her best to ignore the crushing disappointment.

As he cranked the Bronco and headed back toward her house, she told herself this was for the best. Yeah, she planned to stay in Eden's Ridge, at least so long as the family needed her. But she wasn't in any position to make promises, and she sure as hell wasn't going to do anything to yank him around again. If tonight had proved anything, it was that Xander Kincaid was a fixture in the Ridge and that wasn't going to change.

When they reached the house, he shut off the engine.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm either walking you to the door or I'm helping you shimmy up the bodock tree to sneak back into your room. Your choice."

The image made her grin, which was a wholly unexpected end to the night. There was no telling how many times she'd gone up and down that tree in the years she'd lived here. "I don't know if the window is unlocked, so I guess I'm going in the front door and hoping nobody's up yet."

They quietly climbed the steps. Kennedy checked the knob and found it unlocked. Leaving it closed, she turned back to Xander. "Thanks for last night. Being back here, dealing with Mom, with my sisters - it's been hard. You helped, more than you know."

"I'll always lend an ear. Or a shoulder. I hope you know that."

She did, and it made her feel small and unworthy, knowing she had to keep lying to him, even if only by omission. He was good man, who deserved better. Suddenly too choked up to speak, she could only nod.

"Hey. It's all right. Come here, now." Xander drew her against him, wrapping around her, until she felt surrounded, protected.

Kennedy burrowed in, holding tight and struggling not to break apart. She shouldn't do this, shouldn't lean on him. And she'd stop. In a minute. But it just felt so damned good not to be alone. To borrow someone else's strength for once.

He threaded his fingers in her hair and gently massaged her scalp. It was an old, comforting gesture, something he'd done a hundred times before that never failed to release the tension. Another few minutes, and she'd fall asleep on her feet.

"You're going to put me to sleep," she murmured.

"I can carry you up."

As appealing as that idea was, the last thing she needed was Xander anywhere near her bed. Or, worse, to run into any of her sisters, who'd assume she left last night for a booty call with her ex. Since that was definitely not happening, she needed to haul her own ass upstairs. Alone.

Intent on stepping back, Kennedy lifted her head. Whatever she'd been about to say spilled out of her head as she met his eyes. Steady and warm, they bored into hers, seeing far more than she wanted. But he'd always seen her. Hadn't that been part of his appeal?

"Xander." She didn't know if it was a warning or a plea. But she didn't move. Not when he shifted his hold from a hug to an embrace. Not when he tipped her face up to his. When his lips brushed hers, she sighed and melted into him.

He tasted like home. Like sweet tea and apple stack cake and picnics on the mountain. Like every good thing she'd denied herself for what felt like a lifetime. The slow, coaxing kiss took her back to long, lazy summer days, and - when he traced her lips with his tongue - even hotter summer nights. He swept her back to a far simpler time, when their whole lives had stretched out before them and nothing else mattered but being together.

Rising to her toes, Kennedy slid her hands into his hair, angling her mouth to take the kiss deeper as sweetness gave way to a deep, vicious need. But he didn't bow to her demand. After one quick nip, Xander eased her back from the edge, showing a ruthless patience he hadn't had at eighteen. She whimpered in protest, too far gone for sense or reason.

His voice was rough when he spoke. "Lark."

Her old nickname was another link to the past, part of a history too long denied.

"I know you've got a lot to deal with coming back. Repairing things with your sisters. Sorting things with Ari. But promise me you'll think about this, too."

With her body flushed and her lips still tingling from his, she'd have promised him anything. She managed some vague noise of assent.

Apparently satisfied with that, Xander nodded. With one last stroke of her hair, he stepped back. When she didn't move, he reached past her to open the front door and nudged her inside. "Good night," he said, and shut the door behind her.

* * *

If Xander's brain hadn't been completely scrambled, he might've remembered to get his coat back from Kennedy before he'd shoved her into the house. But it had taken every last shred of control he possessed to actually let her go instead of dragging her upstairs or to the barn or into the back of his Bronco or pretty much the nearest horizontal surface, so his coat - and the work keys in its pocket - were still with her. Which was his only excuse for showing back up at the Reynolds house an hour later, after a hurried shower and change of clothes. Well, and he already wanted to see her again.

It had felt like they were finally on the same page when he left her. But that might've been the kiss. Before she'd come back to the Ridge, he'd told himself it would be enough to apologize and be forgiven. But holding her in his arms again, knowing she was staying, just cemented what he hadn't been willing to admit to himself for years - he wanted another chance.

He was going to have be careful with her. Chemistry and old habits aside, he still needed to win back her trust. He'd given some thought to that on the way home. Kennedy was as fragile as he'd ever seen her. She'd just lost her mother, and things were an absolute mess with her sisters. He wasn't the kind of man to take advantage of that vulnerability. But he could make himself a fixture in her life again, remind her of how good they were together, and - in doing so - give her some much needed support so she didn't feel like it was just her against the world.

Xander gave fleeting thought to trying his own luck with the old bodock tree and knocking on her window like the old days. After being up all night, she'd probably gone straight to bed. But doing so under the cover of darkness was one thing. Doing it in broad daylight, when any of her sisters could look out a window or go out to the barn for something was much harder to explain. So he gave a perfunctory knock instead and hoped for the best. He fought the urge to shift from foot to foot as he sifted through excuses.

Athena tugged open the door. One brow winged up. "Can I help you, Deputy?"

"Came for coffee."

There went the other brow. "Do we look like a Starbucks?"

"Wanted to check on everybody, too."

She pursed her lips in an I'm not buying your shit expression but stepped back and let him inside. "There's a fresh pot on."

Xander trailed her into the kitchen.

"You're a little late. Our missing person finally turned back up."

"Your what?" At the stove, Kennedy's confused gaze shot from Athena back to him. The spatula in her hand clattered into the skillet. "Xander." Color leapt into her cheeks.

"Kennedy."

Something electric snapped between them and held. Xander shoved his hands into his pockets because he wanted to spin her around and pick right back up where they'd left off. At the table, Maggie looked from him to her sister and back, clearly trying to decide whether something needed to be said.

"Was she missing?" Xander asked.

"We weren't sure. She left in something of a hurry last night, and we didn't know if she'd come back," Maggie said.

Kennedy bristled, snatching the spatula back up. "I promised I would."

"You were upset and not thinking clearly. We were worried."

"You were worried," Athena retorted. "I just figured she'd bolt again."

A muscle jumped in Kennedy's jaw, but she said nothing, just turned back to the stove.

Pru wandered in. "I thought I saw your cruiser out there. Good morning, Xander." She slid an arm around him in an easy hug.

"Morning."

She eased back and gave him a long study. The back of his neck prickled. It was an I know what you've been up to look. He knew it well enough from his own mother and hadn't thought he'd run into it here.

Athena gestured toward the counter. "You wanted coffee. There it is."

Needing to do something, he went straight to the cabinet and pulled out a mug. Kennedy was now pointedly not staring at him, focused instead on whatever it was she was messing with on the stove.

"I don't know why you're cooking. We have enough casseroles to last us for days," Athena said.

"Because I wanted something different," Kennedy retorted, sliding the skillet under the broiler.

She sounded brittle and angry. So did Athena, but that was her default state. Xander felt sure that last night's fight had originated with her. Still, tension stretched between all the sisters. He could feel it as he poured his coffee, see it in the hands Pru knotted together and the frown bowing Maggie's lips.

He laid a hand against Kennedy's lower back. "You okay?" he murmured.

She went still, curling her fingers around the edge of the counter. Because his hand was still on her, he felt the slow, controlled exhale. "Fine." The word was so low, no one else was likely to have heard.

Xander eased a little closer. "You still can't lie worth a damn."

Kennedy frowned at him. "What are you doing here?"

"My work keys are in my coat pocket."

Confusion flickered over her face for a moment before she realized what he meant. She nodded, though whether that was acceptance or some variation of I'll take care of it, Xander wasn't sure. She clearly didn't want to announce to the family that she'd been with him last night, so he kept his mouth shut as she nudged him out of the way and pulled the skillet back out of the oven. With careful, practiced moves, she placed a plate over the skillet and inverted it. All Xander could tell was that there were eggs involved and it smelled amazing. Maybe it was some kind of fancy oven omelet?

"What is that?"

"Tortilla Española."

He eyed the thick, steaming egg-thing. "That doesn't look like any kind of tortilla I've ever seen."

"Not that kind of tortilla. That's Mexican. This is a Spanish potato tortilla - more like a frittata - for Ari. Her grandmother emigrated from Seville, and I thought it might be something she'd have made Ari as comfort food."

"Every weekend." The quiet voice came from the doorway, and they all turned.

Ari crossed into the kitchen, her sock feet soundless on the wood floor as she came to inspect Kennedy's work. She leaned over and inhaled the fragrant steam, her dark eyes closing. "It smells like hers."

Kennedy fidgeted with a pot holder. "I thought, maybe, it might appeal more than all this other stuff."

Ari straightened and threw herself at Kennedy. Kennedy staggered back one step before she caught herself and wrapped both arms tight around the girl.

"Gracias." The word came out muffled against Kennedy's shoulder.

"De nada, hermanita."

Ari spilled out more rapid fire Spanish in a quiet voice, and Kennedy answered in kind. Xander had no idea what she said, except that it had the tone of promises.

Finally, stroking a hand down the girl's hair, Kennedy leaned back. "Will you eat?"

Ari nodded and reached into the cabinet for a plate. She cut herself a massive slab of the tortilla and took it to the table under the shocked gazes of the other Reynolds women. Kennedy's mouth curved in a satisfied smile.

Grabbing more plates, she looked over at him. "Well, you're here. You might as well have some breakfast."

While the rest of them filled their plates with breakfast casserole and pastries from all the food brought by the mourners - by tacit agreement, they left most of the tortilla for Ari - Kennedy excused herself. He heard footsteps on the stairs and figured she was going to retrieve his coat. From long habit, he took his breakfast to the table and sat. He'd eaten meals at this table more than a hundred times over the years. The faces had often changed, but it had always felt like a big, extended family. Now, without Joan to referee, it just felt wrong.

Maggie studied him over her coffee cup. "Xander, what are you doing?"

Being purposely obtuse, he dug into the food. "In the time-honored tradition of bachelors everywhere, I'm mooching breakfast."

"My bull - " Athena glanced at Ari. " - pucky meter is pinging,"

The teenager rolled her eyes. "I'm thirteen. I've heard swearing before."

"That's still no reason for us to use it around the table," Pru said easily.

They all looked at him expectantly. Ignoring the adults, he leaned over and aimed his fork toward Ari's tortilla.

She narrowed her eyes and brandished her knife. "Don't make me cut you."

Xander chuckled.

Kennedy came back in the room, her arms full of stuff. "Maybe let's avoid bloodshed at the dinner table. I brought down your shoes and backpack. We'll leave when you finish your breakfast." She set everything down, and Xander watched as she surreptitiously draped his coat over the seat of a barstool.

Well done, Lark.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and slid into the chair beside him.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Pru asked.

"I'll get something later."

Xander couldn't blame her. The tension in the room was probably enough to sour her stomach. In the awkward silence, he worked his way through his own breakfast and was considering seconds when Maggie rose and took her plate to the sink.

"We have a lot of work to get done today. Athena and I both need to be getting back in a few days, so whatever decisions need to be made for the short-term have to happen now."

That was obviously his cue to leave. He tried to think of something to say, some excuse to stick around. But he had his own work that he couldn't put off any longer. He slid out of his chair and laid a hand on Kennedy's shoulder, waiting until she lifted her gaze to his.

"Thanks for breakfast. If you need help with anything - whenever, wherever - just let me know."

She stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. "Don't forget your coat."

"Right." He scooped it up from the barstool.

"You didn't have a coat when you got here," Athena put in.

Shit.

Everybody looked from him to Kennedy, who was staring at her coffee as if it held the secrets of the universe.

"Are you kidding me?" Athena asked. "She didn't do enough of a number on you ten years ago?"

Kennedy's knuckles went white around the mug, and Xander was simply done.

"You need to back off." He didn't raise his voice, but he used the same no nonsense tone he usually reserved for belligerent drunks at the tavern.

Athena wasn't cowed in the least. "Still playing white knight after everything she did." She shook her head. "Your funeral."

Xander opened his mouth to pop off, but Kennedy spoke first.

"For the love of God, both of you stop it. I'm too tired for all of this." She fixed her gaze on Athena. "I realize you're upset with me, and that's fine. It's your right. I've apologized. If you choose not to accept that, that's on you. But I'm not letting you provoke me, or anyone else, into a fight. We have too many more important things to worry about." She shoved to her feet. "Ari, it's time for us to leave for school. Xander, I'll walk you out."

Kennedy stalked out of the room and didn't stop until they hit the front porch.

Xander felt like he needed to apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't think to get the coat back when dropped you off, and I had to have my keys."

Crossing her arms, she looked past him at the door, obviously waiting for Ari. "I don't care about that. But why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

She waved her hand in the general direction of the kitchen. "That. Whatever that was."

The lack of sleep was obviously messing with her.

"You're going to have to be more specific, Lark."

Kennedy pinched the bridge of her nose. "We aren't eighteen anymore, Xander. I'm not yours to protect. So why are you riding in here like I am?"

He didn't touch her, though he desperately wanted to. "Because you need it."

Those big green eyes went suspiciously glassy at that.

"All that - " Xander waved his own hand. " - is a damned mess. I just want you to know that you don't stand alone here."

Whatever she would've said to that got cut off by Ari bursting out of the house. Time to vacate before he mucked this up any worse. "Have a good day at school, kiddo. Kennedy, I'll see you around."

Xander gave them both a wave and headed for his cruiser.