Kendrick
I watched her from beneath the ash tree, my arms folded across my chest as sunlight filtered through the canopy above. Kimberly.
She looked different today—lighter somehow. Her shoulders weren’t stiff. Her steps weren’t cautious. For once, she wasn’t walking like she expected the world to break beneath her feet.
And for once, I wasn’t the one trying to hold her in place.
I saw the hesitation in her eyes when Helen delivered the invitation. The way she stood by the window, one hand clenched near her chest like she was bracing for impact. She didn’t need to speak the words—I saw them written across her face.
Will he let me?
The idea of that question stung.
Not because she asked it—but because it was valid.
I’d become the kind of man she had to seek permission from just to
