Page 142 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
My entire worldis currently on fire, and the flames of my fuck ups keep finding more gasoline.
Kara didn’t even speak to me when we stepped onto the private plane, and a full twenty-four hours later, she’s still giving me the silent treatment.
Boone lent us what he called a camper, which is essentially a roach motel on wheels. Fine, a roach motel without the bugs. Kara immediately claimed the one bedroom, which leaves me to a foldaway bed that doubles as the kitchen table.
It’s uncomfortable as hell, but Rafe was adamant that it wasn’t appropriate for me to let myself into Lottie’s place until we had patched things up, and since my house blew up, we’re now living in a van by the lake.
If my father learns of this, he’ll definitely find a way to use this against me when we go to court over Kara. And we will be going to court—I have no doubt about that.
In the fire that is my life, there’s the wildfire that is Lottie, our relationship and her company on the left. On the right is the forest fire of my father fighting for custody of Kara, and I appear to be the dumpster full of accelerant smack-dab in the middle.
Kara exits the bedroom, and we’re practically nose-to-nose. I don’t know how long I can stay in this metal box. Boone played it off as though it were big enough for a family of four, but unless it’s a family of magical fairies, I don’t know how that would be possible.
When she sees me, she slams the door.
Telling her to go easy, that it’s not even my door, would just be wasting my breath. Right now, it’s probably easier to just replace whatever she breaks.
“Kara, we have to talk.”
Her gaze had been pointed straight at the floor, but she cuts me with it now.
“Are you going to tell me what you did to make her hate you?” Her words don’t match the viciousness of her stare. This must be what sadness sounds like.
“She doesn’t hate me, but I should talk to her before I tell you, don’t you think?”
She tucks her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt and crosses her arms as though she’s protecting herself.
We’d come so far, and I’ve managed to push us right back to square one.
“She’s the only one who gets me. She’s the only one who understands.” Despair bleeds from the corner of her eyes, and I trace the tear down her cheek. I can practically feel her pain, and it sucks.
“I did make a mistake with Lottie, but I’ll fix it. I promise. But that’s not what we need to talk about. Something else happened at the event last night, something that concerns you.”
Her big green eyes shutter behind a mask. It’s as though she’s shielding herself from something she knows will hurt her. I hate it instantly.
It also stuns me that I recognize it in her.
“Jonah,” I start, but she flinches as soon as the word is out of my mouth. “I need you to trust me, okay?”
She sinks into the spot opposite me but doesn’t say a word as she breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth, each one deeper and longer than the last.
“You’re sending me back to him, aren’t you?”
“What? No.” I stand as the room begins to shrink in on all sides, but there’s no room for me to pace in this fucking metal box of outdoorsy hell. “Not unless you—you want to go back?”
“I don’t want to,” she sputters. “I told him that when he texted me last night, telling me to pack my shit.”
I lean forward, placing my palms flat on the table, and drop my head to my chest. I can’t stop him from texting her, even if I want to. He is still technically her father. “Okay. I’m glad you don’t want to go back. I don’t want you to go back either.”
“Why? Don’t I just complicate everything?”
Slowly, I lift my head, praying that the right words will come to me by the time I meet her gaze. When they don’t, I say the only thing I can.
“Before you, there were no complications in my life that I didn’t have immediate solutions for.”
She shrinks in her seat. I’m screwing this all up.
“But I wouldn’t say I was really living either. I worked, I ate, I went to the gym, and then I worked some more. Rinse and repeat, and I honestly thought that was all I ever needed. Everything was neat, organized, simple, and in perfect order.”
