Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Harris’s face was grim as he stared at Smith, but finally he offered him the faintest of nods.
“I feel like you’re playing with fire, Smith. And somebody’s bound to get hurt.”
“Much better,” Smith proclaimed as he stood, hands on his hips, staring down at the new, comfortable sofa. It was a boring, boxy, inoffensive thing. Even the color was a snoozeworthy, an inoffensive light gray.
“What will you do with the old one?” Kenny asked curiously. Smith and Harris had lifted the old one onto the back of Spencer’s bakkie, after which Harris had departed.
Kenny was somewhat surprised when Smith chose to stick around. But he’d helped her remove the plastic from the new sofa, moving it fractions of inches to the left or right before deciding that it was in the perfect position.
Smith was still staring thoughtfully at the sofa and didn’t turn to look at her when he replied, “Giving it to Spencer. He runs the local youth center in his spare time. He’ll find a use for it. Refurbish to use at the center, maybe. Do you think this needs to move a trifle to the left? It still seems off-center.”
“It’s fine,” Kenny said with an exasperated glance heavenward.
And she thought she was anal about crap like this. She’d been happy five “little adjustments” ago.
He tilted his head to the right, still looking at the sofa. “You sure?”
“Oh, for God’s sake! Yes, I’m sure. Now leave it alone.” She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow to tug him away and they both froze when her palm touched his warm, bare skin.
He turned toward her, crowding her with his heat, and height, and hardness.
She swallowed, the sound embarrassingly loud in the oppressive silence of the room.
Their eyes met and there was a quiet, despairing acknowledgment between them. An acceptance that the sudden electric current sizzling between them was real.
And intense.
And inevitable.
His head dipped.
“No.” Her whispered denial washed over his lips, which stopped within a hairsbreadth of hers, held hostage by that small, hushed word.
“No?” he asked on a despairing little groan.
“We can’t keep defaulting to this, Smith. It’s unhealthy and I’m trying so hard to make emotionally healthy choices. For both our sakes.”
He groaned again, louder this time, the sound pained and rife with frustration. He dropped his forehead to hers, hands moving up to cup her face gently. He held her like that for a long moment before dropping his hands and stepping away from her.
“Why did you have to come here?” More frustration, smattered with anger now. “I was doing okay. We were moving on.”
“You were moving on. I was just left behind. “
“You can’t leave someone who was never there, Kenna.” His voice was gentle, for once lacking in rancor and accusation.
The words were presented as a simple statement of fact.
“I’m here now,” she pointed out and took a couple of steps back, sinking down onto the sofa to watch him silently.
Waiting for him to decide what the next move should be.
He hesitated, took a step toward the easy chair, and then stopped again.
“I-I have to get the bakkie and sofa back to Spencer.”
He swung on his heel and left without another word, leaving Kenny reeling.
“Well then,” she whispered, running her damp palms down the cotton of her light summer skirt. “I suppose that’s that.”
She stared fixedly down at her hands, vision blurry, as she took a few deep breaths and tried to work through the staggering sense of emptiness and loss that crashed over her, threatening to her drag her down and drown her.
Her eyes caught on her rings, and she made a stricken, high-pitched sound.
She tugged at them, expecting resistance again, but this time both rings slid from her finger with laughable ease.
She laughed, a soft despairing sound, and carefully placed the rings on the coffee table in front of her.
She was usually an intelligent woman. A surgeon, for God’s sake.
She offered her patients hope. She was their biggest advocate in a high-stakes game of life and death. She often represented that last brave line of defense.
But Kenny and her patients weren’t always on the winning team. Death too often emerged victorious. And Kenny had always tried to be practical about that painful and difficult reality of her work.
So why couldn’t she accept that what had once lived and breathed between her and Smith was beyond resuscitation? It died even before the tiny flicker of life in her womb had been snuffed out.
And even though the last twenty-four hours felt reminiscent of their beginning, it had actually been the embers of what had once been flaring one last, glorious time before dying completely.
It was time for her to accept that.
Smith was a goddamned coward. Why the fuck had he just left Kenna like that?
Less than half an hour after all that shit he’d spouted to Harris he’d simply bailed on her the second things had gotten a little too real. So much for spending time with her and having hard conversations. So much for finding answers and clarity.