Kenna shook her head. “No charges. But can you take her in until she sobers up?”

Parker’s face gentled. “Of course. If you change your mind about the charges, just let me know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you handling this.”

Parker gave Kenna’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “That’s what we’re here for. You take care of yourself.” He turned to me. “And you look out for this one.”

I forced a grin. “I’ll try, but she’s quite the troublemaker.”

Kenna gave a small laugh just as I hoped, and Parker chuckled. “I’ll see you guys later.” With that, he escorted a visibly deflated Janet to his SUV.

“Come here.” I opened my arms, and Kenna walked into them. No hesitation like there would’ve been just a few weeks ago, simply open acceptance. “I’m so sorry.” I wrapped her tightly in my arms, wishing with everything in me that I could erase the pain the past twenty minutes had caused, obliterate the agony of a lifetime of having Janet as a mother.

Kenna burrowed her face in my chest. “It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last.”

I pressed my lips to her hair, inhaling the mix of sea air and hints of something feminine and alluring. “You don’t deserve the hate and ugliness she was spewing.”

She tipped her head back so that her chin rested on my sternum. “You’re right, I don’t. But people live with far worse. I’ll survive.” Her eyes closed a fraction. “I just hate that you and Parker had to see it.”

I pulled Kenna tighter against me. “You don’t apologize for that. For her. That’s not your burden to take on.”

Pain flitted across Kenna’s features. “She never loved me. It was always about what I could get her. Money from the state. Anything else having a kid might afford her.”

“It’s her loss. She missed out on the greatest blessing in her life. One day, she’ll realize that. But you’re already gone.”

“I’m not holding my breath for that day.” Kenna turned her face towards the ocean, resting her cheek on my chest. “She used to show up at The Gables occasionally. She’d demand that Harriet give her money because she’d stolen her daughter.”

Tension thrummed through my muscles. “You’re more than a check. The gift your life is to the people who love you is priceless. No amount of money could ever cover that.”

“But that’s what I’ve always been. A check from the government to keep me alive. A check from the Abbots to get rid of my baby. A check to give up my home. Someone always wants to write me away with a flick of the wrist. I kept thinking that maybe if I was perfect enough, they wouldn’t throw me away.”