Page 33 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
Over the top of Kara’s head, Thane stands still as a statue, except for his fingers that tap a synchronized beat at his sides.
“My brother loves me, and so does yours, but this is all very new for you both. It’ll be an adjustment, and not an easy one, but he wouldn’t be here, with you, if he didn’t care for you.”
“I don’t really know anything about him,” she admits. “Not anymore. He’s so much older, and he stopped coming home after Dad fired Ophelia. Thane only came when she gave him the all clear, and it was usually when Dad was out of town. He’s probably worried about appearances too. It’s all my dad cares about, so I shouldn’t be surprised. What would it say about Thane if he let me go into foster care?”
Thane lifts a foot as though he’s going to march down the dock, and once again, I wave him off.
I’m actually surprised he pauses.
“Our fathers, unfortunately, are very much alike, Kara. Did you know that?”
She frowns up at me, but I sling my arm over her shoulder and pull her into my side. “My dad and your dad are bitter rivals in the tech industry. They’re essentially the same person. Dictators, assholes, misogynistic fools, take your pick. It suits them both.
“If you ask someone at my father’s company if they like working for him, you’ll get a canned answer about what a privilege it is. Do you know what happens if you ask someone at Wilder Minds if they enjoy working for your brother?”
“No.” She fidgets with the zipper on her sweatshirt. “What?”
“They love it. They say he’s demanding, and they say it with a genuine smile. They say that it’s a collaborative environment, and even though Thane doesn’t interact much, he’s always teaching and leading by example. Most of the people I spoke to held him in such high regard, they fear leaving because they’re learning more from a week with your brother than they learned in all four years of their degrees. He pushes them hard, and they work harder because they respect him.”
She frowns, but I give her a few moments to ruminate on what I’ve said.
“Does that sound like someone who doesn’t care to you?”
“Well, no.” Kara scrubs her face with the heels of her hands. “But…”
“But different, right? All of Thane’s employees know he cares about them and their success, even though that care looks different than what they’re used to.”
“He’s not different.” Kara’s voice takes on a hard edge of defense. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she loves the man.
“No, he’s not different. He’s…unique. His love and care are unique to him. Just as your love language is unique to you.”
“Are you saying when he called me a rabid raccoon, he was trying to say I love you?”
The laugh barrels out of my chest before I can stop it. “God, no. That was man-code for ‘what the hell happened?’ and while we women weigh our words, men sometimes don’t. I know it’s not fair to give a broad generalization like that, but in my experience, it’s true. I’m sure it was a reaction, a gut reaction, that tied up his words, and what came out was not what he meant. He loves you, Kara.”
“Maybe,” she grumbles.
“Wanna show me what we’re working with under there?”
She sighs so heavily it causes tiny ripples in the water below. Then she reluctantly pulls down her hood.
I only have the moonlight overhead, but it’s enough light to know she’s done a number on her hair. I’m not even sure what color she was going for. Her natural, golden brown matches her brother’s, but now she has dark streaks in odd places.
“I wanted it darker, but then there wasn’t enough to do my whole head, so I thought I’d do like highlights, but dark ones. The YouTuber made it seem so easy.”
I lift my arms, then freeze in midair. “Can I?”
She nods, so I stand and run my fingers through her long strands, assessing the damage as I do. That’s when the weight of Thane’s gaze hits me hard. I turn my head toward him, and we instantly lock eyes. His face is full of so many conflicting emotions I can’t even name them.
He signs the word thank you—he used flipping sign language—then turns on his heel and slowly walks back toward my house, or his, I’m not sure.
“How does he know sign language?” I whisper the words under my breath. Thane Wilder is a mystery.
“He learned when I was little,” Kara says quietly, staring after him long after he’s faded from view. “The doctors thought I had trouble hearing. Turns out, I was just learning how to survive the constant yelling in our house. Thane took a class and taught me. It’s how we communicated when we didn’t want Dad to know what we were saying.”
My insides shake and tremble so much it hurts. The emotion building inside me has no outlet, but I cannot cry in front of this little girl.
“Does—” My voice cracks, and I try again. “Does that sound like someone who doesn’t love you?”
