Page 59 of Run, Run Rudolph
“I only forgot you once.”
“—in the corner talking to someone I don’t even like.”
“You need to make more friends.”
“When I go places with you, I go there to be with you.”
“Oh.” His demeanour turned perky. “So, you wanna go out?”
The man was giving me a headache. Why couldn’t he just listen to me in the way Haden did? “Kade…”
“We could go for supper. No, let’s do drinks first at the Monkey Top. And there’s this hopping new restaurant?—”
“Kade, we broke up. I’m not?—”
“I know. It’s not a date-date.”
“Back off, Kade.” Haden was growling, using a voice I’d never heard before. It sent Dolly further back into her stall, and even Santa had quirked his head, watching us.
“I don’t think going out is a good idea,” I said gently.
“We’re still friends, Tamara. We’ll always be friends.”
“Yes, but we’re also two very different people, and we want different things. And we have different ideas of fun.”
“But we had fun when were together. We went out and did stuff.”
“I know.”
“It was good for you. We had fun.”
“We did.” That was truthful. It had been fun. But I’d also needed time at home to recharge after most of our outings. There was only so much of Kade and his energy that I could handle before I desperately craved some downtime. In high school, I’d known I needed to get out more, and he’d made it easy. But why I’d ever believed he was someone I could be with long-term, I wasn’t sure. Maybe because I didn’t understand my introverted needs back then. And I hadn’t trusted myself enough to try to understand what I wanted and needed.
“So, what’s up? You don’t like me now?” He looked so hurt, my spirit fell.
“Please, Kade, I’m tired.” And feeling too warm in all of my outdoor gear. I tossed my mitts on the bale beside Santa. “Can we talk about this some other time so Haden and I can help Boots and go to bed?”
“Together?” Kade was staring at Haden like someone had gutted him, and it took me a minute to pick up on his train of thought.
“What? No. Not like that. I just want to call it a night. Alone.” I turned to Haden in exasperation, looking for backup on this ridiculousness. He was always so good about not interrupting when Kade gave me the runaround, but I was tired and out of patience. “Did you drop him on his head as a baby?”
“Only once.”
“That’s not funny,” Kade said, when a burble of laughter escaped my throat. “The two of you are always…”
“Always what?” Haden had lost his sense of humour, his hands still in tight fists—like they seemed to be whenever I tried to gently let Kade down with kindness and, hopefully, some sensitivity.
Kade had a way of railroading me into doing something extroverted without me even noticing, because I was so busy trying not to hurt his feelings. For someone so outgoing, he could be sensitive.
As for Haden, it always seemed like he was holding back from punching something, or someone. Or was he bunching his hands to prevent himself from shaking some sense into me. I knew what he was thinking. I was too soft. Too patient. Not bold and direct enough. I was too small-town. Too quiet. Too…me. I needed to speak up for myself, have a spine, not be a pushover.
But any time I stood up, firmly and bluntly, I laid awake at night worrying about the other person’s feelings. I never wanted to be mean, and boundaries were so tricky to maintain, especially with someone like Kade.
“You don’t want me here,” Kade stated, and I sighed without thinking.
“Why can’t I want what I want? Why can’t the things I want be more important than anything else for once?”
He blinked at me for a long moment. “What do you want?”
