"You took the words." Jo's eyes on Kerris went subzero. "If the two of you can manage to stay apart at least for today, that would honor Aunt Kristeene's memory."
"Don't you dare tell me what would honor my mother's memory." Walsh's words thundered into the tranquillity of the room. He slammed his fist into his open palm. "Talking with a friend, taking comfort from a friend, is not dishonoring anything, Jo. Now shut the hell up about things you don't understand."
He rushed past her into the hall, hating to leave Kerris, but needing to get away from the accusation in his cousin's eyes. Needing to get away from the promise growing inside of Kerris. He stormed down the stairs, almost barreling into Cam. They faced each other like wary, wounded animals, only a few steps apart.
"You doing okay?" Cam asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Hell no."
"Me neither." Cam blinked away tears.
"You wanna get drunk?" Walsh proffered the vodka-filled flask from his pocket.
"Yeah, like you can't believe, but I'll pass." The breath swished from Cam's chest in a rush. "I was looking for … "
Cam trailed off, obviously not wanting to drop the grenade of Kerris's name into the middle of their temporary détente.
"For Kerris?" Walsh kept his tone bland and his eyes steady when he looked back at Cam. "I just passed her and Jo in Mom's sitting room. You could check there."
"Okay." Cam frowned, glancing up the stairs and then back to Walsh.
Walsh brushed past him and walked toward Uncle James's study, hoping to get a much-needed swallow or two of liquid courage in privacy and away from all the consoling eyes.
Hand on the door, he caught a glimpse of a broad back rushing toward the front door in the foyer.
"Martin," he called, but his father didn't slow or turn.
Walsh followed, moving more quickly than he had all day. He stopped on the porch landing.
"Dad!"
His father stopped where he stood, but he didn't turn around. Walsh rushed down the steps, stepping into his path.
"Dad, I-"
"Walsh, could we talk another time?" His father looked down at his shiny Italian shoes.
"Well, I-Okay." Walsh felt about twelve years old. "I just thought … well, we hadn't gotten to talk since Mom … "
He cut the words off when he saw his father wince. Pain tweaked his lean features. He looked at Walsh with the most naked pain anyone had ever tried to hide.
"Another time?" His father's red-rimmed eyes revealed that he was not as unfeeling as his tone would lead one to believe. "I'm headed to New York, and then back to Hong Kong."
"Already?" Walsh couldn't believe his remaining parent was abandoning him now of all times. "You can't postpone the trip?"
"Why would I want to?" Martin's words started rebuilding a wall between them. "I cut the trip short to … I cut the trip short, and I need to finish what I went there to do."
If Walsh hadn't heard his father's howling grief himself, he'd assume he was being cold and callous, as usual. But Walsh noted the lines etched around his father's mouth and eyes. Saw his father's hands tremble. Walsh suspected nothing but pride and sheer will kept Martin's back straight and his posture rigid. He was fighting absolute collapse, a meltdown of Chernobyl proportions.
"I'll see you when you get back to New York, Dad."
His father nodded, opening his mouth to speak and slamming it back shut. Walsh could almost see him stringing together the words before he tried again.
"What you said in your mother's eulogy was perfect." His father's voice husked with suppressed tears. "She was always so proud of you. She loved you so much."
Walsh offered a dumb nod. He didn't know what to do with this version of his father. As much as Martin tried to pull the impassive mask in place to cover his grief, it kept slipping. Walsh glanced away from the pain so evident on his father's face, digging his hands into the pockets of his wool trousers against the unrelenting cold. A flash of red caught his eye.
Kerris, coming down the steps, wore a scarlet coat over the black dress he'd seen her in earlier. Walsh couldn't help but think of that first night when she'd worn a scarlet dress, an orchid nestled behind her ear. They occupied a different world now. A dystopia where his mother, his rock, had died. Where the one woman he wanted had married his best friend and carried their child.
Cam walked Kerris toward the car, his hand at the curve of her back. Walsh hadn't seen him look so broken since he'd first met him. Walsh realized Cam truly processed this loss like a son, left behind. Finding out about the baby would help him through this. A new life. A fresh start.
A part of Walsh, the part that couldn't stop loving Cam like a brother, rejoiced for him. For them. But his heart-that selfish muscle pumping unrelenting blood to the rest of his body, skipped a beat when his eyes found Kerris. She looked back for a second longer than she should have before dragging her eyes away and looking straight ahead.
She wrapped around his heart like knotted string he couldn't work loose. She was pregnant. She was Cam's. And as hot and as deep as this feeling went, it was just that. A feeling from which nothing good could ever come.
Their future was ahead of them and so was his. He couldn't undo what had been done, but there was still time to make other things right. He turned to his father.
"Dad, want some company?"
Martin turned, hand poised over the door handle to his rented Mercedes.
"Company?" His father snapped his brows together at this foreign concept. "What do you mean?"
"I could go with you to Hong Kong." Walsh wondered if his father realized what it took for him to speak those words, to make that offer.
Martin's features contracted then relaxed, and Walsh knew that though they were silent, they both heard the same thing. Kristeene's plea to make things right between them. Those moments were seared into Walsh's heart, and he'd never forget that his mother's last words, her final thoughts, had been of him reconciling with this man. With his father.
"I'd like that." Martin's mouth curved into something terribly close to a smile.
"I'll just be a few minutes." Only out of habit did Walsh keep the eagerness from his voice. "I'll grab a few things and we can leave for New York right now."
"I'll wait here." His father slid into the car and turned on the heat.
This trip couldn't have been more perfectly timed. Besides getting some long overdue time with his father, Walsh needed something to pour himself into. After Cam and Kerris's wedding, he'd abandoned himself to a debauched lifestyle. Developed destructive habits. Nicked and torn at his moral fiber until right and wrong had amalgamated into some alloy made only of his basest desires. He wanted to be better than that. For his mother. For Jo. Even for Kerris and Cam.
But most of all for himself.
He would leave Cam and Kerris to their future. And as much as it hurt today, right now, he'd find his own.
About the Author
There were several signs that Kennedy Ryan would be a writer, but making up stories with a mop as her long-haired heroine while the other kids played kick ball may have been the most telling. After graduating with her journalism degree from UNC – Chapel Hill (GO, HEELS!), she found various means of gainful employment having absolutely nothing to do with said degree, but knew she would circle back to writing, in some form or fashion. After years of working and writing for nonprofit organizations, she finally returned to her first love-telling stories.
In an alternative universe and under her government name, Tina Dula, she is wife to Sam, mom to Myles, and a friend to those living with autism. A portion of her royalties will go toward her foundation, Myles-A-Part, serving Georgia families, and to her national charitable partner, Talk About Curing Autism (TACA).
You can learn more at:
KennedyRyanWrites.com
Twitter: @KennedyRWrites
Facebook.com
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Turn the page for a preview of the next book in the Bennett series.
Loving You Always
Coming October 2014!
Chapter One
Walsh Bennett scowled at the teetering tower of paperwork overwhelming his desk.
"Trish, last time I checked we were in the twenty-first century," he yelled through the open door connecting his office to his assistant's. "What's up with all this paper? Nineteen ninety called and wants its dead trees back."