Unexpected Gift(26)
Chapter Twelve
Molly
Kenna blows a puff of smoke, tapping her cigarette on the ashtray. “So, what? You’re going to go there and play house? I don’t know, Molls. You and Caden have never gotten along.”
I sip the strawberry margarita she made, licking the sugar off the rim. I stare at her as she takes another inhale off the cigarette, tilting her head back and fogging up the air above her. “You’re going to kill yourself with those things. It’s a gross habit.”
She kicks her feet up on the stool in front of her and takes another hit. “So you’ve said a hundred times. Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. I’m just making an observation. Smoking is gross. You need to stop doing it. It causes cancer.”
Kenna stares at me and curls her lips in a sarcastic smile. “Everything causes cancer, Molls. I’m not too worried about it.”
“Well, you might not be, but I am.” I finish off my glass and pour myself another marg. I hate that she does that to herself. Kenna’s life isn’t the same as mine. She had a rough start in life, and throughout life, and now it is kind of the path she meanders on. She isn’t a bad person. She is amazing. She does so many wonderful things.
I just hate that she feels like she isn’t good enough for anything, no matter how much good she does for the people around her. When Kenna was five, her mother died, leaving her with just her dad. No one knew this but me, but he was Vice President of a ruthless motorcycle club in Billings. He was involved in a lot of dirty deeds, both in and out of prison, but he loved Kenna. Even though he did a lot of wrong, he did it all for her, and in a twisted way, it was the best he could do.
He is in prison right now actually, along with the rest of the gang. I don’t know why and neither does Kenna, but since he’s serving twenty-five years, I’m assuming whatever it is for, it isn’t good. He went to jail when she was sixteen, so he has already served eleven years, and during that time, she has stayed with me and my parents. That was how she and Brandon got so close.
“Stop worrying so much about me. I’m going to be fine. I always am.” She blows another cloud of nasty smelling smoke.
I lift my hands in surrender. “Fine. You win.” But I’ll never stop worrying. I know the kind of people that come up to her, and other gangs around know who she is and always try to recruit her. She always says no, and that she never wants to be a part of it, but a part of me always wonders if she will take them up on their offer, since it is the only world she really knows.
“Alright, then. You can explain to me why the hell you are packing up and moving to Glendive. What the fuck is in Glendive for you to make it permanent? A fucking gas station? If I remember correctly.”
Oh, yeah. Kenna has a mouth on her worse than a sailor’s.
“It isn’t that bad. It is really beautiful. And Brandon asked us to. He wants Posie to have two parents. We have to follow the rules.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She slams her heavy boots on the porch. “He has Posie right now. There is no reason why you guys couldn’t make that a permanent thing. Brandon knew this couldn’t work. It can’t work. You guys will kill each other in less than a week.”
“Brandon wrote in his will that if we don’t live there within the next three weeks, Posie goes to my mom and dad.”
“And would that be such a bad thing?”
“Yes. Brandon said they have the right to be grandparents, not to be parents all over again. I want to do what he wanted. Literally, it was what he wanted in death, Kenna. I can’t ignore that.”
She takes another hit off that damn cancer stick and blows out smoke as she sighs. “I know, okay? I know that. I’ll just miss you.”
“Come with me.” I sit my drink down and steal the cigarette from her fingers and put it out in the ashtray.
“Ah, come on. Those are expensive.”
“So is cancer treatment.”
She rolls her eyes. “I can’t come with you. You know why.” She packs her carton against the palm of her hand before taking out another cigarette.
She recently opened a tattoo shop, and it is doing really well, and it wouldn’t do well in a smaller town. But she also donates a lot of her money to charities. She volunteers at the animal shelter, cuddles babies without moms at the hospital, and volunteers at the soup kitchen. Kenna Patterson is a damn saint.
I sigh, taking my drink in my hand and leaning back in my chair. “I know. I’m going to miss you is all.” I down a big gulp of the strawberry mix, watching the sunset. It douses the sky in an array of oranges, pinks, and reds. The stars peak out, trying to push the night onto us.
We stay silent for a few moments, and her tattooed-covered hand holds mine. “I’m going to be worried sick about you in that house.”
I flip her hand over, staring at the blank palm. It has to be the only patch of skin on her body that doesn’t have a tattoo. I turn it back over, staring at an angry face of a wolf. Its mouth is open, showing teeth and tongue, dripping with saliva. It reminds me of her. Ready to fight. Ready to protect those she loves. “Why? I’ll be fine.”
“It’s him. I know there is a crazy amount of sexual tension there, because look at him, and look at you. Two beautiful people are going to be attracted to each other. I’m just afraid he is going to break your heart.”