Never Surrender

"Dad!" Kennedy shouted as she raced through the front door of her childhood home, "Dad, where are you?" She left Max in the main entry way as she rushed into the kitchen.

Her dad wrapped his arms around his daughter and held onto her like he was never going to let her go. He kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her hair and tears sprang to his eyes. "Kennedy, you're home," he said against her temple, "You're really here."

She held on to her father's waist. "Yeah, I'm actually here," she replied, nodding against his chest. "I missed you so much."

The old kitchen was just how she remembered it. Pictures hung on every wall, telling the story of her life and her family's. Above the stove, underneath the cupboard a framed picture sat covering the fading wall paper. Kennedy's eyes moved towards it automatically and she smiled at the people in the image. Four perfect, happy people. A mother, a father, a little sister, and a soon-to-be cancer riddled, protective older brother.

Kennedy's dad pulled away from her and just stared at his daughter. "You've grown so much," he commented, shaking his head, "I can't believe you're the same little girl that left this house so long ago."

She smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders. "People change," she admitted before changing the subject, "Come meet Max, he's kind of nervous." She laughed and pulled her dad out to meet her best friend.

Max stood near the front door with his bag over his shoulder and Kennedy's at his feet. His hair had been straightened this morning but now hung past his shoulders in almost-straight strands. His tattooed hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and he smiled politely at Kennedy's father.

"You must be Max," her father said, "I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you."

Max shook the man's hand. "You too," he replied, "And thanks for letting me come with. This place is beautiful." He motioned towards the house and the white snow that covered it.

Sam smiled the same smile as Kennedy and nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty breath-taking out here this time of year." He grabbed Kennedy's bag from the floor. "Come on in, Max. You two must be starving. I've got some food cooking."

Kennedy grinned at Max and walked next to him into the kitchen, following her dad. "We're going to take our stuff upstairs, Dad," she said as she grabbed Max's arm, "We'll be right back."

Sam looked back at them. "Okay," he allowed, just happy to have his daughter under his roof again.

Kennedy yanked Max out of the kitchen and they climbed the wide staircase to the second floor of the Santos house. There were three doors at the top of the stairs.

There were two doors on either side of Kennedy's room, one open and one shut so finally that Max knew it must've been Konner's. The second floor made a sort of half circle, a railing cutting through the diameter.

"This is my room," Kennedy explained as she pushed the middle door open.

Behind the wooden door was a large room. The far wall held large windows that let light shine into the room. On the left wall was the biggest bed Max had ever seen. It was an old frame with a frilly canopy covering the top. Across from it, on the right wall, was an old matching desk that was still covered with things from Kennedy's childhood.

"This is cute," Max joked, setting his bag on the floor.

Kennedy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she demanded, "I liked vintage things when I was younger."

Max nodded enthusiastically. "I can see that," he retorted, laughing loudly as he dodged Kennedy's fist as it tried to make contact with his chest.

"Abuse," he stated, touching the thick blanket that covered her bed. "Am I sleeping in here too?"

She nodded. "Unless you'd rather sleep with my dad."

Max rolled his eyes. "You're funny, Ken, real funny."

Kennedy grinned sarcastically and moved around the bed to wrap her arms around Max's thin waist. "What are you thinking?" she asked, looking up at him.

He just shrugged his shoulders.

She shook her head. "No, tell me," she demanded.

He sighed. "I'm just trying to figure out who you were when you were younger," he stated, looking around the big room. "This hardly seems like the Kennedy I know."

"People change, Max," she murmured, "Do you really expect me to like the same things I did when I was in high school?"

"I like the same things," he replied, looking down into her face.

She shook her head at him, a lazy smile on his lips. "Well, that's just you."

Max glanced through the open door. He could see across the downstairs foyer and out of the huge front windows that were closer to the ceiling than the ground. Almost blocking his view, was a large glass chandelier that hung from the ceiling above the foyer of the front door where he and Kennedy came in.

"We should get back," Max suggested, pulling away from his best friend. "Your dad is going to wonder if we got lost."

Kennedy nodded with an easy smile on her lips. "Plus, I'm starving," she added, touching her stomach as if she could feel it's emptiness.

"Me too," Max admitted, following her out of the room.

They walked down the stairs and took a right to the small hall that lead them back to the kitchen. Kennedy's dad had set out three plates at their little wooden table and had taken the liberty of filling them with food.

Kennedy grinned at the sight and plopped down onto one of the white wooden chairs. Max followed her lead and thanked her dad again for letting him come and for the food.

"No problem," Sam Santos replied with a wave of his hand, "I'm just glad to know that someone is looking out for my little girl in that big city." He sat down in the remaining seat as Kennedy groaned loudly with food in her mouth.

"Dad, I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself," she stressed, "You know that."

Sam rolled his eyes at his daughter. "You and I both know that's the biggest lie you've ever told, Kennedy," he replied, giving her a strict look, "It makes me feel better that there's something there to help you if you need it."

Kennedy sighed, knowing she wasn't going to win the war. "Yeah," she finally agreed, "Max is a heaven sent. He's letting me crash with him for awhile seeing as Oliver and I aren't together anymore."

Sam frowned. "You were living with Oliver? Why didn't you tell me?"

"No," Max corrected automatically, unable to stop himself, "She wasn't," he added, hating the idea of Kennedy living with that prick.

Kennedy glared at Max. "Oliver decided it would be fun to sleep with my room mate," she explained to her father, "And my room mate thought it would be fun, too."

Sam looked shocked by his daughter's words. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" he questioned, "Why didn't you tell me that he cheated on you?"

She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "Max took care of it," she replied, "He picked me up and helped me move out of there."

"Well, good for you," Sam said to his daughter's best friend, "Thank you for looking out for her."

Max smiled between bites. "No problem, Mr. Santos."

"Call him 'Sam'," Kennedy replied, frowning, "'Mr. Santos' is too formal." She shivered dramatically.

Sam nodded, smiling at his daughter.

They ate and talked about everything. Mostly Kennedy and her father catching each other up about the details of their lives. Sam talked about the woman at the dinner who memorized his order and brought it to him with friendly smiles. Kennedy talked about work and about Max and about his band and his talent.

Sam asked Max a few questions as he dropped their plates in the sink full of water and bubbles. "What's it like?" he questioned, "Being in a band?"

Max shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the counter. "It's pretty much all I've ever done," he answered, "I started my own straight out of high school and haven't had to do much else so I couldn't really tell you how it's different from anything else, well, besides the obvious things."

Kennedy leaned back against the same counter as Max. "He was on tour last summer," she told her dad, "Got to play in almost every state in the country."

Max nodded in reply to her dad's impressed gaze.

"That's pretty cool," Sam answered, "Have you toured outside of the country?"

"Yeah, South America this last summer, and Canada and Europe last year," he replied, remembering the trips and the things he'd done on them. The fans he'd met who barely understood the lyrics, who sang them with accents and poured their hearts into the sounds coming from the men on stage.

"Impressive." Sam grinned as he started on the dishes. "You kids can get out of here if you want, you don't have to wait around for me."

Kennedy looked at Max. "Want to go watch a movie?" she asked, glancing to the ceiling, "I've got a huge TV in my room."

"I know," Max grumbled, catching the jab she was sending at him for having such a small TV at his house.

"Come on," Kennedy egged, grabbing his arm, "Lets go watch something."

Max followed diligently, happy just to be there with her. Happy just to meet her dad and spend time in the house where she became the person she'd become.

"Call for us if you need us, Dad," Kennedy called past Max as they headed for the stairs.

"I will, Sweetheart, don't worry," Sam replied, watching the two of them until they disappeared from his sight.