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“Thank you,” I force out. “For the things.”
“Anytime.” She smiles wider. “Ellen is making breakfast if you want to join us.”
“Is Conner—”
“He’s hungover in bed. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I tried to keep him away.”
“You knew?”
“I found him in here this morning and managed to drag him to one of the guest rooms. You were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
A faint smile traces my lips. I would have liked to see her manhandle him out of the room.
“You two are close, huh?”
“Me and Conner? We’re... friends.”
It’s not what she says but what she doesn’t say that piques my interest. I don’t push, though. I’m not sure I want to know.
“He really won’t be there?” I ask, because I can’t remember the last time I ate something homemade.
“I don’t think he’ll be surfacing anytime soon.”
“Okay, then. Maybe I’ll come.”
“I’d like that, Kennedy.” Hadley smiles, and this time it doesn’t make me bristle. “We all would.”
Chapter Four
Conner
I’ve woken up a couple times in the past few hours when people come up and down the stairs, but every time I’ve opened my eyes, the room was spinning and my head was pounding.
This time, everything hurts a little less. Well, everything aside from my heart. That motherfucker is still aching, knowing Kenny is broken and bruised and trying to push me away.
I blow out a long breath and fall onto my back.
I try to swallow, but my mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. I look at the nightstand and sigh when I find a glass of water and a box of Advil waiting for me.
“Hadley,” I breathe, a small smile playing on my lips. I have a vague recollection of the scent of her perfume last night. I guess that explains why I woke up in one of Dad’s guest rooms after falling asleep in the chair in my bedroom.
I swallow down two pills before sinking back into the bed. My stomach grumbles, but I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to drag my ass all the way to the kitchen. So I lie staring at the ceiling,
trying to come up with a plan.
I need Kenny to talk to me. I need to know the truth about how she ended up as she did, and I need to put a fucking bullet through someone’s head for ever laying a finger on her.
My thoughts are cut short when a knock sounds out.
“Come in,” I call, hoping it might be Hadley with food. I’m disappointed when a figure steps inside and I find Dad standing at the side of the bed, dressed as if he’s just emerged from a meeting.
“I hope that bottle was worth it. I’d been saving it for fifteen years for a special occasion.”
“Shit,” I groan, pushing back into the pillows, wishing they’d just swallow me whole.
The mattress compresses as he joins me, but he doesn’t say anything for a long second.
“Did you know Kennedy’s aunt died?”
