“What?”
“I got a promotion. Cashier. It pays two dollars more an hour.”
“That’s great, Kenna.” He still doesn’t look at me, though. He releases my hand and leans an elbow on his door, resting his head against his left hand while he drives with his right. I stare at him for a little bit, wondering why he seems different. Quieter.
My mouth is starting to run dry, so I say, “Can I have a sip of your drink?”
Ledger takes it out of the cup holder and hands it to me. “It’s sweet tea. A couple of hours old.”
I take a drink and stare at him the whole time. I put the cup back in the holder. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Did you talk to them? Did something happen?”
“It’s nothing,” he says, his voice thick with the lie. I think he recognizes how unconvincing he sounds, because after a pause, he adds, “Let’s just get to your place first.”
I sink into my seat when he says that. Anxiety rolls through me like a wave.
I don’t push him to tell me now because I’m scared to know what has him so stiff. I stare out my window the whole way to my apartment with a gut feeling that this will be the last time Ledger Ward gives me a ride home.
He pulls into the parking spot and kills his engine. I unbuckle and exit the truck, but after I close my door, I realize he’s still sitting there. He taps his steering wheel with his thumb, looking lost in thought. After several seconds, he finally opens his door and gets out.
I walk around to meet him and get a better read on him, but I pause as soon as I’m face to face with him.
“Oh, my God.” His lip is swollen. I rush up to him, just as he slides the sunglasses on top of his head. That’s when I see the black eye. I’m scared to ask, so my voice is timid when I say, “What happened?”
He closes the gap between us and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him so that his chin is resting on top of my head. He just tucks me to him for a beat and then gives me a chaste kiss on the side of my head. “Let’s go inside.” He slips his hand through mine and leads me up the stairs.
Once we’re inside my apartment, I barely have the door shut before I ask him again. “What happened, Ledger?”
He leans against the counter and grabs my hand. He pulls me to him and smooths my hair back, looking down at me. “They saw my truck here this morning.”
Any morsel of hope I left with this morning immediately dissipates. “He hit you?”
Ledger nods, and I have to back away and compose myself because I feel nauseous. I want to cry, because how mad would Patrick have to be to hit someone? The way Scotty and Ledger have talked about him, he doesn’t seem like the type to lose his temper easily. Which means . . . they hate me. They hate me so much the thought of Ledger and me together made a generally kind, calm man lose his mind on him.
I was right. They’re making him choose.
The panic begins spreading from my chest to all the other parts of my body. I take a sip of water, and then I pick up Ivy, who has been meowing at my feet. I pet her. I try to find comfort in her presence. She’s my only constant now, because this story is ending exactly how I predicted it. No plot twists at all.
I came here with one goal, and that was to try to forge a relationship with the Landrys and with my daughter. But they’ve made it very clear that it’s not something they want. Maybe it’s just not something they can emotionally handle.
I put Ivy back on the floor and then fold my arms across my chest. I can’t even look at Ledger when I ask him this question. “Did they ask you to stop seeing me?”
He exhales, and his sigh is everything I need to know. I try to hold it together, but I just want him to leave. Or maybe I need to leave.
This apartment, this town, this state. I want as far away from my daughter as I can get, because the closer I am to her without being able to see her, the more tempting it becomes to just go to their house and take her. I’m desperate enough that if I stay here too much longer, I might do something stupid.
“I need money.”
Ledger looks at me like he didn’t understand the question, or he can’t process why I need money.
“I need to move, Ledger. I can pay you back, but I need to leave, and I don’t have enough money to get a new place. I can’t stay here.”
“Wait,” he says, stepping toward me. “You’re leaving? You’re giving up?”
His choice of words makes me angry. “I’d say I tried pretty damn hard. They have a restraining order against me—I wouldn’t call that giving up.”