Page 135 of Trust No One

I saw the charm for what it was, but I still felt myself softening. “I’ll text you when I have the date and time.”

“Good.”

“Thanks for the food, Ken. But time for you to leave.”

He continued to stare at the land, sipping coffee. I thought he hadn’t heard me when he turned. “I’ll be in town for the next week.”

I cradled my cup, drawing the heat into my chilled fingers. “Why?”

“Because I want to be here for the funeral. And you.”

Invisible tethers stretched out, encircling me. “We don’t do that anymore, Ken.”

“Do what?”

“Be there for each other. We aren’t a we anymore.”

Ken grinned. “You’re so black and white, Raine. We’ll always have a connection. I can’t picture a world without you in it.”

“You’ll figure it out. Time to go.”

He moved toward the back door.

I blocked the door. “No need to go inside again. Set your cup down and walk the garden path back to your car.”

“I want to say goodbye to Molly. She’s in a sensitive place. She’ll be worried about people just appearing and disappearing from her life.”

“Bagels are not a long-term commitment, Ken.”

His relaxed features didn’t waver. “I also found her drugged in a motel room. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“I’m grateful for that. But I can take it from here.” I remained in front of the door.

Ken’s scent was a mix of expensive aftershave and him. He always liked the finer things, dressed well, and he had more hair products than I did. Even as I peered behind the exterior, his slow smile softened my resolve. “I just want to say goodbye to Molly.”

A glance in the window found Molly staring at us. Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and worry. “Fine. Say goodbye. And leave.”

As I stepped aside, his grin widened. He set his cup in the sink, leaning against the counter as he spoke to Molly. I couldn’t hear. She smiled. Ah, kid, the man could charm the best of us.

He rubbed her on the head and strode out of the house as if he owned it.

Inside, I refilled my cup. “How’s the bagel?”

“Good. Ken is nice.”

“He sure can be.”

“He’s the one that was bad?”

How could I boil this down to the level of a five-year-old? “He got into trouble a few times.”

Her brow furrowed. “If I get in trouble, are you going to divorce me?”

“No. Ken is different.”

“How?”

“You’re my family. I told your mother years ago if anything happened to her, I would take you.”