Mom, thankfully, spared me the romance of how they got together. Thank goodness. She’d gone on to say it took time, having the guilt of falling in love, all because Tanya had died. I don’t remember a time where my mom wasn’t in my life. I vaguely remember their wedding at the age of six, the day Dad adopted River, and Mom officially became my mother.
None of this matters. Or maybe all of this matters; saying my final farewell to my parents. What kind of fate is it that I’ve lost two mothers in my life?
I tug my jacket closer to my body in the light snow of a Montana winter that sprinkles on the two caskets waiting to be lowered into the ground. I’d insisted on poinsettias around their graves. After all, Mom loved Christmas. If we can’t experience another Christmas with her, I’ll make it as merry as I can on the day we celebrate both her and Dad’s life.
And beside me is the one person who understands my emotions at the loss of our parents. But as much as Shannon Mayes Hanson was my mother, River Mayes Hanson, has never felt like my brother. He’s more like the bane of my existence. River is everything I’m not. He’s cool, good-looking, likable, and an asshole. He’s a likable asshole, what an ironic statement.
I’m nerdy, never cool, certainly not likable, and I’m nice. Again, we’re polar opposites. Mom seldom talked about the organ donor, as she referred to as River’s biological father. He was, according to her, a genuine douche bag. The apple didn’t fall that far from the tree. River apparently had gotten his birth father’s DNA.
With all that River Hanson is, a pain in my ass being at the top of the list, he loved our father, and Robert Hanson loved River as he loved me.
We’ve yet to talk about what we’ll do after the funeral. We’d turned eighteen, just a week before the car crash that killed Mom and Dad. Social services hadn’t shown up on our doorstep to take us into custody because we’re officially adults. And college is in the future for River and me.
As are most things with River and me, we’re going in entirely different directions. Sure, we’ll both be in California, but he’ll be in San Francisco and I’ll be hours away in Los Angeles. With the lack of a relationship on both our parts, we’ll likely never see each other again.
I’ve yet to cry. I haven’t shed a tear. Not when Dad’s best friend showed up at the house at midnight to tell us of the drunk trucker who’d hit our parents head-on. River lost it. Isaiah held him tight after he’d taken a baseball bat to the closest wall.
Speaking of pains in my ass—is the man who broke the news of our parents’ passing. He’s next to River. Not sure why because River hates him. He hates Isaiah Woods so much, and because River lacks a filter, everyone, even our father, knew this. It’s about the only thing my dear stepbrother and I are on the same page with.
The graveside service ends after a small eulogy by Isaiah. It’s the only time my eyes meet with River’s, and we both roll them, knowing Isaiah is a pretentious fuck-turd who loves to blow smoke up people’s asses in the hopes he looks essential and important.
I’m in my own thoughts; I don’t realize the service is over. “Kenzie,” someone calls out to me. “Kenzie.” This time, there’s an irritation to his words. It’s Isaiah. And I’m not wrong. One peek at his sharp cheekbones and the way his jawline is tight, his irritation is strictly targeted at me.
“What?” I bite out, a little harsher than I usually do.
River doesn’t give a fuck how he comes off to Isaiah Woods. Still, for the small fact that Isaiah is my godfather and my dad loved him like a brother, I’ve never spoken to him in the way I’ve wanted to.
“Yeah, I’d watch that tone with me, miss.” The pitch in his words isn’t a surprise. He’s a commanding asshole.
I let out a strangled breath. “Yeah, sorry, Mr. High and Mighty. I’m sort of in my own thoughts with burying my parents.”
We still have six months before we graduate. And I’m just biding my time, understanding I have to co-exist in the same house with River. And what that means for me.
“About that, I need to go over some of the estate information with you. So, we’re going back to my house after the funeral.”
We’d taken a limo to the cemetery from his charming home. “Yeah, well, that’s where my car is. And since you didn’t give us a choice in how we’d get here today, making River and me meet you at your house, I have no choice but to return with you.”
He never shows emotion. Even when he delivered the eulogy, his voice never fluctuated. He was so clinical in his delivery. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem for you to stay, now will it? Be sure to tell River. And by the way, Kenzie, you’ll want to stress to him that this is not up for negotiation. He’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He stops and walks away—a step or two when he turns back to me. “And, Kenz, you’d be a good girl as to not challenge me.”
“River never listens to a word I say, so why would he start now?” I stop for a second, taking one last look at where my parents’ final resting spot is.
I stay for another moment, caring less about Isaiah’s empty threats. I search for River. He’s nowhere in sight. Not surprised. He does his own thing when he wants—never with respect for anyone else. However, right now, I wish he would have taken me with him. I’d rather have his company than that of the overbearing asshole waiting for me by the limo.
Chapter 2
River
The asshole is reciting his edict to Kenzie. Yeah, I couldn’t care less what the fucker has to say. He’s never been someone I give two shits about. Well, not now—after how he has devastated me. Mom used to laugh, claiming there was so much similarity between the two of us. I never understood her level of amusement over the disgust that would befall me whenever Isaiah Woods came into my line of sight.
“It’s like looking at you in twenty-five years, Riv.”
My mom. Her voice still lives in my mind. I wouldn’t care if she was here to itemize the similarities between the douche and myself. I’d appreciate everything she’d say. I’d even laugh at her, replying how crazy the statement had been. Then I’d not even cringe as Dad would wrap his arms around her slim waist, whispering in her ear. I’d never wanted to know what they did behind closed doors. I’m old enough to understand what it was. But no child wants to think of this when it comes to their parents.
Dad was my dad, and with that, he came with baggage. And Robert Hanson was my father. But my attention turns to Kenzie, speaking of that fucker. Why couldn’t I ever think of her as my sister? Instead of the six-year-old pain in my ass. Though I’d known her from birth. After all, we share the same fucking birthday.
The Uber I’d ordered to pick me up on the opposite end of the cemetery waits for me. Shit, I’d forgotten my car is at Isaiah’s mansion. I don’t know what had been up his ass last night when he called, demanding to meet him at his place before the funeral. I honestly have no idea what has caused him to think he’s the ruler of Kenz, or me, for that matter.
I never out and out hated Kenz, as I have with Isaiah. She’s more like a nuisance, a buzzing mosquito, just off to bug the shit out of me. From an early age—going back to around the time our parents had wed—four years after Kenzie’s biological mom died, I’ve always had this annoyance of her. She just was everywhere I’d been. Maybe I knew she wasn’t my blood. But I loved Dad, and he wasn’t my kin, either. Perhaps it was how she followed me around incessantly for years.