“Not a good enough excuse.”

“It’s four hours away, Dad.”

“Like you’ve never moved before.”

“Well then, how about because we spontaneously combust if we’re together in the same room for more than five minutes?”

“So we’ve had a few obstacles in our day. That’s no reason to stop trying.”

Obstacles. Meaning, of course, her wild and crazy years. The years Kenna had spent battling her insecurities and inadequacies in the face of her brilliant parents had been long and rather ugly. But she’d paid the price-dearly-when, at the age of eighteen, she’d had all funds yanked from beneath her feet, leaving her as accused.

Wild and crazy.

And penniless.

It had been their version of tough love, and it had been tough. Extremely so. But she hadn’t been born a Mallory for nothing. Stubbornness and tenacity had been bred into her, and she’d marched off to college determined to prove she could manage on her own. She’d been the principled, idealistic rebel, an activist on campus staging sit-ins at the administrative building whenever she thought an injustice had been committed.

She’d horrified her parents on a weekly basis, but because they’d already overplayed their hand by cutting off the money, they were powerless to do anything about her actions. With such freedom in front of her, she’d never looked back, not until the day she’d graduated.

Granted, she’d graduated by the skin of her teeth, at a far less prestigious school than her parents had planned on, but she had finished. She’d done it on her own, grooming poodles, doing the aforementioned “slinging beer,” mopping up at K-Mart, you name it, she’d done it for the little luxuries like food and tuition.