My stomach roiled at the thought. “I have no interest in a repeat of an over-exaggerated performance.” It was cruel, but it was true. And I was sick of Alicia’s bullshit. She didn’t want me. Hell, she didn’t even know who I was anymore. She just wanted the security that came with a relationship with Crosby McCoy and the trust fund I’d come into at thirty-five.

Heat lit Alicia’s green eyes. “You’re angry so I’ll let that one pass. But you need to be honest with yourself. You miss your old life. Boston. Your family. Me. Things could be different this time around. Get a job with that non-profit you loved so much. Go on your camping trips. But come back to me. Come home.”

My jaw clenched. Sure, I missed the Sox and some of my favorite restaurants, but that was it. I didn’t even miss my parents because they didn’t know who I was either. “I’m not going anywhere. Anchor is my home now.”

Alicia gave her head a little shake. “Lie to yourself if you must, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ve checked into The Cove. I’ll be waiting when you’re ready to talk.”

I let out a litany of curses as Alicia strode to her rented BMW, hips swaying as if that would bring me to heel. I eased down onto my front steps, watching as she tore off and away from my house. I rubbed at my temples.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

Kenna: What time are you heading over here? I was thinking I’d make chicken stir-fry for dinner.

My throat was suddenly dry, making it hard to swallow. I hadn’t told Kenna that I was coming over tonight. Sure, we’d spent the nights together for the past few weeks, but I hadn’t made any promises. But all of those nights came with silent expectations. Responsibilities I wasn’t sure I could follow through on. Seeing Alicia had been a cold reminder of what could happen when a person fell for someone else. They could convince you to play a role you never wanted to play. I tapped out a text.

Me: I’m gonna stay up on the bluff tonight. I’ve got some stuff I need to do, and I have to be up early.

Guilt ate at me as I waited for a reply. But tonight, I needed only one thing: to remind myself that I still had freedom at my fingertips. I’d don my brightest headlamp and tear down a few mountain bike trails. That would get my head on straight. And maybe a little distance was just what both Kenna and I needed.

42

Kenna