Page 14 of Tempting Bo (Montgomery Dreams #2)

KENZIE

Bo and I aren't talking, I guess.

I have done little to reach out to him, but he’s been similarly silent. It leaves me to wonder if this is how a lifelong friendship and budding relationship dies. Just… fizzling out until the flames become embers and eventually sizzle into nothingness beneath the next rainfall.

Should I be the one to give those embers some fresh kindling, or should I stand my ground and risk everything?

I risk losing everything no matter what I do.

Even if I look past all of this, there’s no running from it.

I can decide not to care that Bo is going to have a child with another woman, but that doesn’t mean that the child magically disappears.

It doesn’t mean Savannah disappears, either.

I can find it in myself to forgive Bo—I could probably forgive him for anything, given enough time.

But still, things are going to change.

They already have.

No matter what I decide, I’m only one part of this equation. At the end of the day, Bo’s the type to do what’s expected of him. I know better than anyone that David and Hailey aren’t pushovers, and they’ll expect him to take responsibility for his actions.

Ultimately, it’s up to Bo to decide how important I am to him, but I can’t bring myself to believe that he’ll go against everything he’s been raised to believe just because he loves me.

If he loves me. We hadn’t exactly gotten around to saying that before all of this came up, but I thought I saw it swimming around in his eyes a few times.

I wish Oakley was still in town, but she can only afford to abandon school to take care of me for so long.

We’ve talked on the phone a couple times in the past few weeks, but I just keep telling her that I’m fine.

It’s harder to spill my guts and sob all my fear into open air when she’s not here to hold me close and comfort me.

In the past, I’ve always gone to Hailey for advice when my head was this muddled.

She’s good at sorting through the overwhelming thoughts and fixing issues one by one, methodical and pragmatic.

I’ve always been more prone to drowning as worry after worry piles up and suffocates me.

This time, going to Hailey isn’t an option. I have to sort this one out on my own.

It’s closer to avoidance than a real coping mechanism, but I’ve been burying myself in work to hide from it all. I can’t mourn a broken heart if I have a million new projects to spearhead, now can I?

This week’s proposal is something that’s been near and dear to me for a long time, and maybe that’s why it’s been so difficult to put together.

I actually care about getting Mrs. Arthur to sign off on this after-school program.

I modelled it after my own weekends in high school; all the time I spent on the farm paid off in ways I never expected as an adult.

So few people understand how easy it is to grow your own vegetables and herbs, even on an apartment balcony.

I know how to pick the freshest fruits from the markets, and how to barter my sewing skills for a discount on the Jameson family’s local honey.

This world is leaning closer and closer to the tipping point, and these kids are going to need to know how to keep themselves alive through it. We’re going to need farmers and beekeepers just as much as we need engineers, and only one of those fields generates interest in the younger crowd.

I’ll be a little early to my scheduled meeting with the principal, but a little time to soothe my nerves will do me good.

I’ve been frantically rearranging the designs on these flyers and adjusting my pitch for the past several hours since school let out.

If I go in there right now, I’ll just word vomit at her, and that won’t get me anywhere.

I purposefully slow my steps walking down the hall, taking a deep breath and listening to the rhythmic click of my shoes against the worn linoleum floors.

The steady beat of my own footsteps soothes my nerves, some of the tension in my shoulders draining away.

I just need to go in there and give her my pitch, get the ball rolling.

Keeping my thoughts away from my own memories—and stopping them from straying to my own issues with Bo—is going to be easy.

I’m a professional .

I square my shoulders firmly, turn the corner, and run right smack into David Montgomery’s chest.

He's a sturdy man, thick in the belly from good home cooking, with well muscled arms and rugged hands. He steadies me as I stumble backward, ensuring I don't fall.

“Hoo, there, Miss Kenzie,” he says with a chuckle. “You alright?”

I readjust the pamphlets in my arms and paste on a bright smile.

“David, hi! Sorry, wasn't watching where I was going. Head in the clouds, you know how I am.”

He smiles down at me, warm brown eyes crinkling fondly at the corners as he pats my shoulder.

“You're overworking yourself again, aren't you?” He always used to get on my case when I was still in school, insisting that I cut loose and have fun occasionally.

It's nice to know he's still keeping an eye out for me.

“We haven't seen you down at the farm in a while now. You best not be avoiding us.”

He winks at me teasingly, and I force a laugh. I feel guilty keeping anything from him, but I don't know what all Bo has explained to his parents. I'm definitely not interested in dropping the news about Savannah myself.

That's Bo’s problem.

“Of course not!” I smile brightly up at him, tossing a strand of copper hair back from my face. “The start of the school year is just so busy. I had no idea how unprepared I was.”

That's kind of true, at least. There's plenty of stuff I wasn't ready for in terms of starting the year off, but that's not why I haven't been around.

Like I said, Bo’s problem.

“We miss your face at supper,” David says. “Promise me you'll come on by soon, alright? Us old folks have to see our loved ones as often as we can.”

I roll my eyes at him, a more honest grin spreading across my cheeks.

“Oh, please, you and Hailey are still spring chickens.” They're hardly in their fifties, and they're both in great shape. Old folks, my ass . “As soon as I get things settled up with this after school program, I promise I'll make some time to come by.”

David glances down at the stack of pamphlets in my arms before plucking one off the top to read. His brow furrows as he scans over the silly little infographic text boxes and cartoon animals scattered across the page.

“Trying to get the kids to do some real work?” he asks teasingly.

“Whatever keeps them out of trouble. I just figured it'd be a nice way to combine volunteer hours and actually learning something they can use in the real world, y'know?”

Windy River isn't exactly a bustling metropolis, but there are kids from all walks of life who go to this school.

If they've got something to keep them busy—and the promise of signed volunteer hours to entice them to actually do it—they'll be less likely to waste their weekends getting drunk out by the lake.

“What exactly have you got in mind for this?”

“That's kind of where I'm stuck,” I admit with a nervous chuckle.

“I was hoping to bring these to the principal and get her input on what activities we could sponsor and maybe where we could get this all set up.

We have enough space for a little garden by the south parking lot, but I can't exactly petition the school board to budget for a few cows.”

David laughs, a big, booming sound that I've heard many times in his kitchen. He’s always been the type to take up space, but never the type to push others out to make room for himself. I was really grateful to have a male role model like him around when I was younger.

“I might just know someone with a cow or two,” he says teasingly. “Why don't you ask the principal if she’s alright with it being hosted on the farm?”

“The farm? I—you’d be okay with that?” I blink at him in shock as he beams and wraps an arm around my shoulder for a quick hug.

“You know we’d do anything to help you out, kiddo,” he says. “There's always plenty of work to go around with the livestock, and Hailey’s got plenty of plants in the garden that she doesn't have the patience for. It’ll be good for everyone.”

“You're sure you won't mind a bunch of high schoolers on the farm?” I ask hesitantly, hope beginning to bloom in my chest.

I desperately want this to be a success, and I was out of ideas of where to host something like this.

I’ve been thinking about the time I spent on the farm as if it was a thing of the past, but the farm is still right here.

The work I did with Hailey and David as a kid is still waiting to be done.

If he’s really fine with it, my little passion project could take root and grow into something amazing.

“Oh, we've got kids out there all the time,” he says, waving my worries off. “I was just talking to Coach Daybreak about letting him use the pastures for some of the football drills. I have a feeling your group will yell less.”

A thrilled laugh bubbles up from my chest, and I tug David close into a proper hug. The papers get a little crumpled between us, but I don't care. I can always print more. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and squeezes me right, his chest rumbling with his own soft laughter.

“I take it that's a yes?” he asks as I pull away.

“I have to get it cleared with Mrs. Arthur,” I say breathlessly, smiling from ear to ear. “But absolutely, yes, one hundred percent. I can't thank you enough.”

“You just come by for supper,” he says, clapping me on the back. “That's plenty thanks for me.”

“Yes sir,” I promise. “I'll call y'all as soon as I get things settled with this and we can set up a day for a proper meal.”

David’s response is cut off by the ringing of his phone, and he sends me a sheepish smile as he fishes it out of his pocket.

“That'll be the missus,” he says with a grin. “I'm late coming home. You give us a call, alright?”

I wave goodbye to him as he answers the call, bustling off toward the doors as he makes his excuses to Hailey. They've always been my standard for how a relationship should look—nothing but mutual respect and affection for each other.

I always dreamed that Bo and I might be like that one day.

For a while there, I thought we were right on track for that too. Now, though? I don't know where we stand.

There's enough on my plate between work and keeping myself alive right now, but I can't help but wonder what will happen if I'm on the farm all the time. Bo’s been distant since he told me about Savannah, but maybe that’ll change if he sees me more often.

Maybe things will get better between us again.

I sigh, leaning back on the wall and letting my head think against the plaster.

My heart is torn in so many different directions. Betrayal and hope and uncertainty and need all tug at me, all insistent and unceasing.

Even if things with Bo start going well again, who knows what that means. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about him, no matter how upset I am about this whole situation with Savannah. I may not want to admit it to myself, but part of me has already forgiven him.

Now I'm just waiting for him to convince me that it's the right choice.