Free Blackout by Rosalie Stanton

her, degraded her, then sent a sex tape to her boss. She had no idea what had brought her here—why she would want to see him, of all people. And yet, one week after confronting a side of herself she hadn’t realized existed, she found herself drawn to a dusty corner of the shadows she somehow couldn’t dodge.
    After finding Hunter pounding some redheaded bimbo blind, the course of action had seemed inevitable. Kenzie had gone home, packed, and left. She hadn’t bothered waiting around for a half-hearted apology—especially given Hunter’s verbal callousness upon being discovered. Figuring “Whups, I tripped,” would be his best attempt at a legitimate excuse, she’d checked into the cheapest motel and began piecing her life together. Women who waited for their man to explain in small words why they deserved to stand on the shit end of infidelity were the weakest sort of creature. Kenzie didn’t need an explanation. All she’d needed was the nearest exit ramp.
    While she stood by her actions, with some distance between the breakup and now, Kenzie supposed the one thing she’d missed was an attempt at closure. Of course, the notion of needing closure after dumping a cheating scumbag who’d wasted too much of her time likewise struck her as hopelessly cliché and pathetic, but when it came to Lennon…god, she didn’t know. In replaying every conversation she’d had with herself since leaving the elevator, since forfeiting her shortcut to fixing her immediate future in an effort to save the man’s career, Kenzie kept dead-ending on a question she couldn’t afford to dead-end.
    Why?
    Kenzie expelled a deep breath, shivering, flexing her fingers around the steering wheel. Still no good answer. Yes, her actions had made sense at the time…but a sort of sense that lacked, well, sense. She’d kept herself sane by issuing small self-reminders of those things she had already established—things she knew to be true, and not subject to interpretation. Despite all the secret crushes and water-cooler talk and buying each other pastries and fanciful daydreaming, it took a misunderstanding on top of a lie on top of deception to get them anywhere near the neighborhood of honesty. Excuses mounted and, though she’d like to deny it, a good amount of blame lay at her feet. Perhaps she and Lennon would have worked in one of the fairytales he’d woven—the ones in which they met in any other part of their lives except where they currently stood.
    A different Kenzie, a more confident Kenzie, might have taken the plunge. Might have done something like risk her job or her dignity or whatever else to see if her cute, hopefully single boss were interested in catching a movie over the weekend. No matter what happened between her and Hunter, no matter how she felt about it now, pretending that sort of infidelity didn’t hurt hadn’t done her any favors. And maybe, just maybe, that was the ultimate gift her night with Lennon had given her. A chance to reevaluate where she stood, regain her footing, and emerge stronger and wiser when it came to the big bad world of boy-meets-girl.
    Then again, maybe she’d thrown away the prospect of something truly wonderful because she was a big goddamned scaredy cat.
    Kenzie sighed again, at last pulling the car keys from the ignition. No sense pretending anymore. She couldn’t move forward without getting this part effectively behind her. Like taking off a Band-Aid, the sting wouldn’t seem so obvious if she did it quickly. Thus Kenzie climbed out of her car and marched intently toward the front door.
    It took a moment for life to stir inside the house after she rang the bell. Just long enough for a strain of doubt to permeate her mind like a bad fog. Then the door opened, and Hunter’s face appeared like a villain through the mist. He hadn’t changed much—not that she had expected it. His height seemed impossible now that she had grown accustomed to Lennon. His eyes, rich and brown,