Perfect Wreckage (Wrecked #2) - Catherine Cowles Page 0,76

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.”

I pulled back, taking Kenna’s face in my hands. “Don’t let other people’s ignorance influence your value. You’re so much more than they could ever see. And you’re never more beautiful than when you let me get a peek of who you truly are, imperfections and all.”

There was a battle warring in her eyes, I could see it. “Okay.”

“Good.” I took Kenna’s mouth in a slow kiss, her taste imprinting on my tongue. One day, this woman would see herself as I did. Strong because she’d been broken. Loving because she’d been hurt. Perfect in all of her imperfections.

34

Kenna

“Are you sure you don’t want something? A juice, at least?”

I gave my head a shake as Bell rubbed a hand up and down my back. If I ate anything, I’d just end up barfing when I reached the stand.

“You look really pale…”

“Gee, thanks.” I’d taken extra time with my appearance that morning, straightening my hair to within an inch of its life, applying a layer of understated makeup, I’d even done an internet search for court-appropriate attire. But there was nothing that I could do about the fact that all the blood had drained out of my head.

Bell stopped rubbing my back and took one hand in hers as we sat on one of the courtroom benches. “Sorry, I’m just worried about you.”

I gave her hand a squeeze. “I know. Sorry I’m being bitchy.”

“Not bitchy, just sarcastic. And I know your sarcasm comes out when you’re feeling scared.”

Something in me warmed at her words, and I had the sudden urge to cry. What was going on with me? Ever since I’d had my breakdown with Crosby and had told him about losing my girl, my emotions had been all over the place. It hadn’t helped that my mom was lurking around, along with Grant. I took a slow, deep breath. In a few weeks, everything would go back to normal, and my body and heart would no longer feel as if they were going haywire.

Crosby glanced over his shoulder from where he was seated at the front of the room and gave me a wink. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still be around in the same way he was now. My heart gave a painful squeeze at the idea of things going back to the way they were before. In a status quo where we bickered but didn’t know anything below the surface about each other.

Bell bumped my shoulder with hers. “How are things there?”

I gave a little jolt at her words, totally lost in my own world. One where I was staring very intently at Crosby McCoy. “Things are…complicated.”

“I’ve found that things almost always get that way before they get good.”

“Or before they get bad.”

Bell turned towards me. “Have a little faith.”

Having faith wasn’t my strong suit. I was more of a prepare-for-the-worst sort of person. I’d been through too much to have a Pollyanna outlook on life. And thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong meant that I could be prepared for them all. But it also meant I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Bell let out a small growl. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“I know what you’re thinking. That nothing ever works out for you. But that’s not true.”

The stuff that worked out for me were mostly things that I willed into existence by

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