Did he realize he loved her and that was why he never came back?

More often than not, I wondered if he ever thought about us.

It was hard for me not to think of him or what he had done for me. He had risked his life for me in the craziest of ways. Not only had I heard about it, but also some punk kid had the gall to videotape it and upload it to YouTube.

Now every vagina around the world and woman with girlish dreams wanted him. And all I wanted to do was to stake my claim and forget how I turned him away after surviving the crash.

I half expected and half hoped he would threaten and stake his own claim, but instead, he walked away from us quietly.

Was it unreasonable for me to hate him for it?

“Kennedy, it’s time for lunch,” I shouted over the thunder that had suddenly broken through the sky. A quick peek through the windows showed torrential rains pouring onto the street below.

“Mama, it’s raining now. Can I go play?” I smiled and like always, shook my head. I think Kennedy was the only child ever who didn’t understand that rainstorms were not for playing in. My little daredevil barely noticed a sunny day.

“We talked about this, Ken.” I set her plate full of square-cut peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in front of her just as a hard knock sounded on the door.

I debated answering because I wasn’t expecting anyone. After Kennedy had been kidnapped with no leads to who was responsible, I was being extra cautious.

When I picked up the large kitchen knife on the way to the door, I realized that paranoid might have been a better term.

Keenan and Keiran had suspected my father, but after damn near interrogating him, they laid it to rest. My father’s only crime had been his carelessness and putting business before his grandchild.

Greg and Vick had approached my father with false credentials as private investigators after ‘hearing about her kidnapping’ on the news. It had been a long shot, but one they lucked out on after his men had already been placed on another assignment concerning a business deal in Germany that my father had been cultivating for a very long time.

The only question now was who hired them to impersonate private investigators. We already knew why. Someone out there wanted Keiran dead bad enough to kidnap an innocent child, and without a name, he was still in danger along with Kennedy.

“Just a second,” I called when the knocking continued, becoming louder with each knock. I opened the door and stared at the person on the other side in surprise.

I wasn’t expecting him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m here to install your new cable and internet service.” A middle-aged man in faded jeans and even more faded t-shirt with the cable company’s logo stood with a smile. I quickly slid the knife down my sleep shorts and pasted a smile.

“I didn’t schedule for a cable installation.”

The man frowned and then looked down at the tablet he carried. “Are you Sandy Chaplin? Apartment 203?”

“No, I’m sorry. That apartment is around the corner and two doors down.”

“My apologies. Have a great day.” He ambled off and I closed the door feeling silly. I had just made it back to the kitchen when the knocking returned. This time I left the knife.

I assumed the technician might have gotten lost again so my smile was ready when I opened the door. The person standing on the other side of the door this time swept my smile away.

My brain screamed at me to close the door and pretend it never happened, but I stood transfixed.

Keenan stood on the other side with his head down, drenched in rainwater. His white t-shirt was plastered to his muscular chest making his tattoos visible while his jeans hung off his hips in the way that I liked so much.

“Are you going to let me in or continue to eye fuck me,” he smirked. Instead of waiting for an answer, he took my hand and stepped inside, closing the door behind us. All the while, I stood with my mouth agape.

He’s really here.

“What—um… what are you doing here?” I had to clear my throat multiple times to speak intelligibly. I glanced toward the kitchen nervously and debated kicking him out. I didn’t want Kennedy to see him if he wasn’t here to stay…

What was I thinking? Did I want him to stay?

Kennedy had been depressed over Keenan’s disappearance and had only just stopped asking for him. For the longest time, she’d cry herself to sleep, and I didn’t understand even though I wanted to cry with her. She had only known him for a weekend.

Love didn’t kindle that fast, did it?

I felt like a hypocrite for even thinking it. Keenan and I had fallen fast and hard for each other. Why couldn’t the same be for father and daughter?