Page 90 of Seeds of Christmas
I’m lying on a motel bed that smells like bleach and regret when my phone rings. I shudder thinking about what this room has seen.
Dad. Again.
He’s called twice since we left the cabin. I’ve let both calls go to voicemail, but apparently, he’s not taking the hint.
I stare at the screen, watching it light up. Ring. Ring. Ring.
On the fourth ring, I answer.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Carter.” His voice is warm with relief. “Finally. You’ve not been picking up. I was worried...”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Uh-huh. How’s your research partner? The girl you rescued?”
Right. Because that’s the last thing we talked about. Me, freaking out, calling him in a panic. Him, talking me through the rescue. Me, hanging up and kissing Rhi and thinking everything was perfect.
That was only a few days ago.
It feels like a lifetime.
“She’s fine,” I say flatly. “Physically fine.”
“But?”
“But nothing. Research trip’s over. We’re heading back to campus tomorrow.”
There’s a pause. My dad’s good at pauses. He’s had years of practice knowing when to push and when to wait.
He waits.
“We’re—I don’t know what we are. We were a thing. But…” I finally say. “We got in a fight.”
“About what?”
“About—” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. “I don’t really know what. I think she’s scared.”
Scared that I’m too much to handle. I come with too much baggage.
“What do you have?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“With this girl. What do you have?”
I’m quiet, trying to put it into words. “Something good. Something real. Something that makes me feel like—like I’m actually myself. God Dad,” This is so unusual for us, to be open with each other, but since he talked me through rescuing Rhi, I feel like a barrier is broken down, and maybe it’s about damn time the Wolfe men started being honest with each other. “She makes me feel alive, Dad.”
“This girl does all that?”
“Yeah. She does.” My voice cracks slightly. “Or she did. Before I screwed it up.”
“How’d you screw it up?”
“I told her I was fine with it being over. That she wouldn’t have to see me again.” I close my eyes. “I was frustrated and hurt, and I said it all wrong, and now we’re in separate rooms at this motel, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Do youwantto fix it?”
