PROLOGUE |

Eye rolls & Returns

 

PATRICK

 

She came back to River Canyon when we were thirty.

It was a Thursday in the middle of July. I had promised my daughter I would stop at home on my lunch break, and as I walked out of the RCPD, I was subjected to the usual teasing.

“Have fun getting your nails painted, Kinney.”

“Hey Patrick, show us how to braid later, okay?”

And I laughed, flashed them all the finger, and closed the door behind me. Because you know, I really did like having my nails painted, and I had a tough time believing any man on the planet could braid as well as me.

I pulled up to the house, not surprised to find Meghan waiting for me on the porch. She grinned, running down the steps to meet me on the walk, and even though she said she was getting a little too old, I still picked her up in a big hug. I squeezed her tight, shaking from side to side, and she struggled to get free.

“Okay, okay, Daddy! Jeez!” Back on her feet, she smoothed out her Frozen t-shirt, and her eyes scanned the street, as though somebody had been watching.

“Hey,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her, “if anybody ever has a problem with your old Da givin’ you a hug, I’ll arrest them. Got it?”

“Daddy.” She threw her head back. “You can’t even do that.”

I nudged her along toward the house, and laughed. “Don’t dare me, kiddo, because I swear, I’ll totally do it.”

“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes again, feigning an attitude older than her age. But despite her attempts to quell my affection, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into my side with a happy smile.

We made our way to the kitchen, where she had already laid out the fixings for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and I slapped a few together to carry out onto the porch. Meghan trailed behind with a bottle of iced tea and a couple plastic cups with cartoon characters on them, and we set ourselves up on the wicker furniture.

“Mommy’s taking me to the movies tonight,” she said with her mouth full.

I pointed my perfected parental finger at her. “What did I say about talkin’ with food in your mouth? I’m tryin’ to eat here, and you’re gonna make me puke.”

She swallowed hastily with another roll of her eyes. She was doing that a lot, and I knew exactly who she had gotten it from. I resisted my body’s need to tense and grimace at the thought of my wife, and instead took another bite of my sandwich.

“Can you come?” she asked, looking up at me with hopeful, pleading eyes.

I twisted my lips to the side. “Is it a girly movie?”

Meghan dropped her gaze to the sandwich in her hands, suddenly ashamed. “Kinda.”

I leaned into her on the wicker couch, pushing her gently against the arm, and she whined a high-pitched “Daddy!” With a big grin, I nuzzled my scratchy face against her cheek, and said, “Those are like, totally my favorite kind of movies.” Her hands pushed against me, her giggles filling the summer air, and I moved back just a little, while my heart soared with the love of being near my number one girl.

“Of course I can go,” I said, kissing her temple.

“Really?” she squealed, and the front door opened. “Mommy! Daddy said he can come to the movies with us tonight!”

“Don’t you have to work?”

I straightened up at the sound of my wife’s voice, and I turned to face the door. Her hand was set firmly to her hip, while the seemingly permanent scowl contorted her face. I smiled as I always did, never wanting to show Meghan just how much her mother and I couldn’t stand each other.

Never could, never would.

“I do, but I’ll get out early. No big deal.”

“Not very responsible, is it? What if something happens?”

“Christine, we live in a town of less than two-thousand people. What’s gonna happen? Is a raccoon plannin’ to raid Connie Fischer’s refrigerator again?” Meghan giggled around a bite of PB&J while Christine rolled her eyes. Maybe I’d get lucky one day and they’d just roll right out of her head. “Honestly, the likelihood of somethin’ happenin’ the one night I clock out early is painfully slim.”

And she sighed, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “Fine. We want to get there by five. If you’re late, we’re going without you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a military salute.

She turned on her heel to head back inside, when she snapped her head in my direction, glaring at me. “By the way, I saw the mess in the kitchen. So nice of you to leave that for me to clean up.”

“I was going to clean up before I went back to work,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Well, don’t worry about it, because I already did it, after I had already done the laundry and cleaned up after you in the basement.” The basement, she said, but she meant my bedroom.

I knew what she was doing. She was picking a fight, trying to get me to back out of going to the movies. But I wasn’t going to fight with her in front of Meghan, and I wasn’t going to back out when I had already said I would go. I wasn’t a perfect husband—so far from it—but I tried to make up for it by being a perfect father. Or damn close to it.

“Well, thank you for doin’ all that. I appreciate it.”  

Her eyebrow twitched. “The least you could do is put your socks in the laundry basket.”

“I’ll try to remember before I collapse into bed after a fourteen-hour work day.”

“You haven’t remembered in ten years, Pat. Don’t know why you’d start now.”

I grinned up at her. “Well, your birthday is comin’ up. Maybe you’ll be lucky and get your wish.”

Meghan made an attempt at stifling her giggles, and in a huff, Christine walked back into the house, slamming the door behind her. I looked down at Meghan, changing the subject to something lighter. Something like My Little Pony and what she wanted for Christmas, even though it was six months away.

It was never too early to plan for Christmas.

 

❧

 

Five minutes before I had to leave, I was fixing the braid in Meghan’s hair, when a call came through on the radio.

“Kinney, you out there?”

“One sec, honey,” I said to Meghan, and spoke into the mic. “Yep, what’s up, Hannah?”

“Are you at home?”

“I am, indeed. Killin’ it with this French braid as we speak.” Meghan giggled, turning to look at me over her shoulder, and I grinned. Shameless.

“You still have to show me how to do one of those,” Hannah scratched through the speaker.

“Whenever you’re ready, girlfriend. I’ll bring the little elastic thingies, you bring the Merlot.”

“Another day,” she said with a little laugh. “Anyway, I come bearing bad news: I was told to tell you that John McKenna is at the hospital.”

My body tensed at the name. My forehead perspired at that word: hospital. “What? Is he okay?” I asked, my heart ricocheting off the walls of my chest.

“Don’t know the details, Patrick. I’m sorry.”

“Right. I’ll check in with the family, thanks.”

I took my hand off the mic, and I looked to Meghan as she scooted from between my legs. I smiled apologetically at her, my heart aching with guilt and worry. “Sorry, kiddo.” She smiled back with understanding, and reminded me not to be late for the movies. I swore I wouldn’t, kissed her on the head, and tried not to walk too fast to the car as my panic began to make itself at home.

Mr. McKenna had been a second father to me for most of my life. He was still someone I saw daily. He was still the man I interrogated nearly every day, asking him how his daughter was those days.

The daughter I couldn’t get out of my head.

The thought of something happening to him, the thought of something being wrong, the thought of her heart breaking. Those were the reasons for the siren and the lights as I drove the ten minutes to the hospital.   

 

❧

 

I sat in the waiting room for a long time. They wouldn’t allow me to see him. I wasn’t family, they said, and I was mad, because I always had been. But the hospital hadn’t seen it that way, and they hadn’t understood my relationship to the McKenna Family. I even tried pulling the Cop Card without luck, and so I sat. Working my hands in my hair, draining my phone battery, shaking my legs.

I missed the movie, but Meghan understood. Christine had gotten her wish, and I was certain she was happy, but I wasn’t. I felt like a failure of a dad that night, and maybe I was. But then, Kate McKenna ran into the waiting room, heading straight toward me, and all thoughts of inadequacy melted with my heart at the sight of her tears.

I stood up, and she crashed into my chest, wrapping her arms around me.

“Kate …” I said her name with apprehension, tightening my arms around her, tipping my chin against the top of her head.

“Oh God, Patrick,” she said with a heaving sigh, her voice watered down with her tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come out here sooner. They told me you were here. I was just—”   

“No, no. It’s fine.” I shook my head, squeezing her against me. “What happened? Is he okay?”

The question brought on another wave of tears, and she softly cried against me. A few minutes dragged on before she took a step back, wiping her hands against her sodden face, and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry. Ugh, God, I am such a mess right now.”

“The hell are you apologizin’ for?”

She smiled weakly, gesturing toward my shirt. “I got your uniform all wet.”

I stared at her incredulously. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? I don’t give a shite about my uniform, Kate. What happened to your dad? Someone said he had a heart attack?”

She nodded, catching a tear as it trickled down her cheek. “Yeah, he, uh ... collapsed at work, and someone called an ambulance. The doctors say he should be okay, but he has two blockages, and he needs stents. He’ll be in the ICU tonight until they take him into surgery tomorrow, and then, I guess we’ll go from there.”

My throat constricted, and I swallowed forcefully, blinking up at the bright fluorescent lights. It was all too familiar, as I remembered my own father and the heart attack he had suffered three years before. He had survived, and I thought the risk of losing my dad so soon had passed. But there I was, facing the possibility of losing the man who was next in line on my list of Father Figures.   

“Christ, Kate,” I said, my voice gruff, the words choked. I cleared my throat, and looked down to her. “You’ll let me know if you guys need anythin’, okay? I don’t want ya to hesitate if ya need someone to watch the kids.”

She nodded. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, but thank you.”

“I’m serious. Even if you just need someone to do the feckin’ laundry and make sure ya have clean clothes, I want you to call me, okay? And tell your mom that, too.”

Her lip trembled, and she nodded again. “Thank you, Patrick. Really, I appreciate that.”

A buzzing came from her pocket, and she pulled her phone out. She tapped over the screen with agitation, and she sighed. “You know, I swear to God …”

“Huh?”

“My stupid sister.”

And that was all I needed for my blood to pump faster through my veins, my heart to start palpitating, my hands to go clammy, and my jaw to drop open.

Her stupid sister.

Ten years of paying bills, learning to cook, perfecting a mean braid, going to soccer practice, and sleeping in separate rooms hadn’t wiped her from my memory. I mean, sure, I kept myself busy. I spent my days protecting the streets of River Canyon and hanging out with the coolest kid I know, but come nighttime, all I could think about was her. The one that got away.

Kinsey McKenna.

My sweet thing across the Long Island Sound.

I’d laugh about it sometimes, lying on the couch in my basement. I had to cross the pond to give her my heart, and she had to cross the Sound to take it away.

It wasn’t very funny, but I’d laugh anyway, because what else could I do? I couldn’t just call her up, beg for her to take me back—I was married. Not happily, but married nonetheless, and I wasn’t a cheater. An arsehole, maybe, for allowing my soul to remain tethered to another woman, but I wasn’t in the habit of being unfaithful.

“Patrick?”

Kate’s voice stole me from my thoughts, and with a gasp, I scrambled to lay her memory back in my heart, tucking it in where it had remained hidden for all those years.

“What was that?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“I had asked if you’ve seen Kinsey around here, while you were waiting.”

“What? Kinsey?”

Kate nodded. “Yeah, my sister Kinsey. You remember her?” She said it with the old teasing tone I had gotten to know so well during the years of my youth. The voice she used when she’d catch us kissing on the old swing set in the back yard, when she’d catch us closing her bedroom door, when she … “Patrick?”

There I went again. “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “So, Kinsey is here?”

I caught the upward twitch of Kate’s cheek, just above the corner of her mouth. “Yes, she is, but I’m telling you right now, she does not want to see you.”

“Were those her explicit instructions?” I asked, glancing around me in the waiting room, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

“Something like that,” she said with a smirk, but then she stepped toward me, dropping her voice to a whisper. “But between you and me, I only promised to keep you away from her until after the surgery.”

“Ah, Kate. I could kiss ya.”

She rolled her eyes. “You better not be kissing anybody but your wife, Patrick Kinney. You’re still married.”

“Watch how fast I get divorced,” I said, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Patrick,” she hissed. I had heard that before, so many times.

I relaxed my face, smiling softly. “I’m only kiddin’, Kate. But listen, it’s getting late, and I really should get home. Keep me posted on your dad, will ya? And tell Kinsey I said hi.” She nodded, stepping forward to give me another tight hug, and I turned to leave.

And the thing was, I had lied to Kate McKenna. Kinsey was back, and if I saw her, if I felt there was any chance of us getting back together, any chance at all, I would file for a divorce. I would unpack all of those memories I kept tucked away in my heart, I would hang them on a wall and display them on a shelf, and I would make her remember.

Because ten years had gone by. Ten whole years, and nothing was getting better. Nothing was hurting less, and nothing was getting that woman out of my head.