CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KENNA
Diem does look like me. We have the same hair, the same eyes. She even has the same slender fingers I have.
I was glad to see she got Scotty’s laugh and smile. Watching the videos of her was like a refresher course in the history of Scotty. It’s been so long, and I had no pictures of him in prison, so I was beginning to forget what he looked like. But I saw him in her, and I’m thankful for that.
I’m grateful to know that when Patrick and Grace look at Diem, they can still see some semblance of their own son. I always worried that if she looked too much like me, they might not see remnants of him.
I thought I’d feel different after finally seeing her. I was hoping there would be a sense of closure within me, but it’s almost as if someone has stretched open the wound. I thought seeing her happy would make me happier, but in a way, it’s made me even sadder, in a completely selfish way.
It’s not that difficult to love a child you gave birth to, even if you’ve never laid eyes on them. But it’s extremely difficult to finally see what they look like and sound like and are like, and then be expected to just walk away from that.
But that’s exactly what they all expect me to do. It’s what they want me to do.
The thought of it makes my stomach feel like it’s full of tight, knotted ropes, and they’re all about to snap.
Ledger was right, I needed food. But now that I’m sitting here with food, all I can do is think about the last couple of hours, and I don’t know if I can eat. I’m nauseous, full of adrenaline, emotional, exhausted.
Ledger went through a drive-through and ordered us burgers. We’re sitting in his truck in the parking lot of a park, eating our food.
I know why he didn’t want to take me anywhere public. His being seen with me probably wouldn’t go over well with Diem’s grandparents. Not that I know a whole lot of people in this town, but I knew enough people back then that there’s a chance I could be recognized.
If I haven’t been already. I had a few coworkers back then, and even though I never met Ledger, I did meet a handful of Scotty’s other friends. And since it’s a small town, I could possibly be recognized by anyone who was nosy enough to pass around my mug shot.
People love a good rumor, and if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s being fodder for gossip.
I don’t blame anyone but myself. Everything would be different if I wouldn’t have panicked that night. But I did, and these are the consequences, and I’ve accepted that. I spent the first couple of years of my sentence replaying every decision I’ve ever made, wishing I could go back and get a second shot.
Ivy once said to me, “Regret keeps you stuck on pause. So does prison. When you get out of here, make sure you hit play so you don’t forget to move forward.”
I’m scared to move forward, though. What if the only way I can move forward is without Diem?
“Can I ask you a question?” Ledger says. I glance over at him, and he’s already finished his food. I haven’t even taken three bites of my burger.
Ledger is good looking, but not in the way Scotty was. Scotty was more the boy next door. Ledger isn’t the boy next door. Ledger looks like the guy who might beat up the boy next door. He’s rough around the edges, and the fact that he owns a bar doesn’t soothe that image any.
He doesn’t come off quite the way he looks when he opens his mouth, though, and that’s the most important thing.
“What happens if they won’t let you meet her?” he asks.
I’m definitely not hungry now. Just the thought of it is nauseating. I shrug. “I guess I’ll move away. I don’t want them to feel like I’m a threat.” I force myself to eat a french fry, only because I don’t know what else to say.
Ledger takes a sip of his tea. The truck is quiet. It feels like there might be an apology hanging in the air between us, but I’m not sure who it belongs to.
Ledger claims it when he shifts in his seat and says, “I feel like I owe you an apology for stopping you from—”
“It’s okay,” I say, cutting him off. “You were doing what you thought you needed to do to protect Diem. As mad as I am for my own sake . . . I’m happy Diem has people in her life who protect her that fiercely.”
He’s staring at me with his head slightly tilted. He processes my response, tucking it away somewhere without giving me any clue as to what he’s thinking. He nudges his head toward my uneaten food. “You aren’t hungry?”