Is that why they refuse to let me see my daughter? They think I didn’t care?
I can hear his footsteps following me, but it forces me to walk even faster until I’m up the stairs and inside my apartment. I set my stuff down on the counter, and Ledger is standing in the doorway to my apartment.
I grip the edge of the counter next to the sink and process what he’s just said. Then I face him with the distance of the room between us. “Scotty was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I wasn’t unremorseful. I was too devastated to speak. My lawyers, they told me I needed to write an allocution statement, but I hadn’t been able to sleep in weeks. I couldn’t get a single word out on paper. My brain, it was . . .” I press a hand to my chest. “I was shattered, Ledger. You have to believe that. Too shattered to even defend myself, or care what happened to my life. I wasn’t unemotional, I was broken.”
And it happens again. The tears. I’m so sick of the fucking tears. I turn away from him because I’m sure he’s sick of them too.
I hear my door close. Did he leave? I spin around, but Ledger is standing inside my apartment. He’s walking slowly toward me, and then he leans against the counter next to me. He folds his arms over his chest, crosses his legs at the ankles, and then just stares at the floor silently for a moment. I grab the napkin off the counter that I was using earlier.
Ledger eyes me. “Who would it benefit?” he asks.
I wait for more clarification, because I don’t know what he’s asking me.
“It wouldn’t benefit Patrick or Grace having to share custody of Diem with you. It would bring a level of stress to their lives that I’m not sure they can emotionally handle. And Diem . . . would it benefit her? Because right now, she has no idea anyone is even missing from her life. She has two people she considers her parents already, and all of their family who love her. She also has me. And if you were allowed visitation, yes, it might mean something to her when she’s older. But right now . . . and I’m not being hateful, Kenna . . . but you would change the peaceful existence they’ve worked so hard to build since Scotty died. The stress your presence would bring to Patrick and Grace would be felt by Diem, no matter how hard they tried to hide it from her. So . . . who would your presence in Diem’s life benefit? Besides yourself?”
I can feel my chest tightening at his words. Not because I’m angry at him for saying them, but because I’m scared he’s right.
What if she’s better off without me in her life? What if my presence would just be an intrusion?
He knows Patrick and Grace better than anyone, and if he says my presence is going to change the good dynamic they’ve built, who am I to argue with that?
I already feared everything he just said, but it feels painful and embarrassing hearing the words actually come from him. He’s right, though. My presence here is selfish. He knows it. They know it.
I’m not here to fill some void in my daughter’s life. I’m here to fill a void in mine.
I blink back tears and blow out a calming breath. “I know I shouldn’t have come back here. You’re right. But I can’t just up and leave. It took everything I had to get here, and now I’m stuck. I have nowhere to go and no money to get there because the grocery store is only part time.”
The empathy has returned to his face, but he’s quiet.
“If they don’t want me here, I’ll leave. It’s just going to take time because I don’t have the money, and every business in this town has turned me down because of my past.”
Ledger pushes off the counter. He clasps his hands behind his head and paces a few steps. I don’t want him to think I’m asking for money. That would be the most mortifying result of this conversation.
But if he offered me money, I’m not sure I’d turn it down. If they want me to leave badly enough to pay for my exit, I’ll cut my fucking losses and go.
“I can give you eight hours on Friday and Saturday nights.” He looks like he regrets the offer as soon as it leaves his mouth. “It’s just kitchen work. Mostly dishes. But you have to stay in the back of the bar. No one can know you work there. If the Landrys find out I’m helping you . . .”
I realize he’s offering me this opportunity to get me out of town quicker. He’s not doing me a favor; he’s doing Patrick and Grace a favor. I try not to think about the whys, though. “I won’t tell anyone,” I say quickly. “I swear.”