Page 93 of Keeping Kasey
I can’t let that happen to me.
I already have a go-bag ready, complete with a fake ID, passport, and enough money to get somewhere safe. I’ll have to call a car, but it won’t take me long to set up a rideshare account that can’t be traced back to me. I’ll go to the bus station—no, I have Kane, so it’ll have to be the airport.
I hope I have time to get him from the manor.
I’ll buy plane tickets on my credit card, then use cash to buy the tickets I’ll actually take. I can even set up leads in locations around the country for the Consolis to follow while I hide away long enough for them to lose the scent—and all hope of finding me. After that, I’ll find a place to settle down, likely out of the country. It shouldn’t be too hard, and I can—
My phone vibrates against the table, and I jump at the sudden sound, pulling me out of my downward spiral.
I stare down at the screen, where Logan’s name flashes.
Usually, seeing his name would make me smile, but right now, all I feel is nauseating dread, and I can’t help but wonder if Ford is coherent enough to have told Logan anything about that day.
Does he know what Brandon said to me?
That I lied to him about what happened?
That I made the comms program?
And what will he do if he does?
“You okay?” Damon asks, and I can hear him shifting on the sofa, but I don’t turn to look at him.
“Yeah,” I say with a shaky breath and force myself to accept the call.
I swallow hard and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” I say, and it’s a weak greeting even to my ears.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asks. “You sound light-headed.”
I clear my throat. “I’m fine. What’s up?”
“You are not fine. Have Damon take you home right now.”
His concern, combined with my recent discovery, is enough to clog my throat, and tears spring to my eyes. I’m careful to angle my body so that Damon can’t see my face.
“I don’t need to go home,” I assure him. “I’m okay. I just—”
“Please?” he asks, and there are so many emotions packed in that single word. “I don’t want you to push it today. I’m already going crazy worrying about you.”
His candor would have been an opening to tease him only weeks ago, but things have changed. He doesn’t say these things because he’s going soft—he says them because they’re true, and he trusts me with the vulnerability of his honesty.
A trust that I value a lot more than I realized.
Maybe I do need to go back to the manor and be alone. If I spend any more time staring at this screen, I’ll drive myself insane.
“Okay,” I relent in a breathless whisper. “I’ll have Damon take me back. Happy?”
His ghost of a laugh reaches through the phone and lifts some of the weight in the pit of my stomach. I commit the sound to memory.
“I’ll be happy when I’m home and tending to you myself.”
“And bytending to me, you mean…?”
“I mean, I’ll take care of all your needs… and a few of my own.”
I smile despite myself. “And you claim you’re not a gentleman.”
