Miles From Kara (4 page)

I banged on Ethan's apartment door, unsure when I had decided to make the four-hour drive over there, but knowing he was the only one who understood what I'd been through. What I still went through daily. Thank God Maggie decided to force her story on me on a Friday, otherwise I'd be fucked for the entire week.

I knocked on the door again, wishing I'd thought to call him on my way. I managed to send him a single text that I was coming over but I hadn't heard back, and though that wasn't entirely unusual, I couldn't help the pang of anger that Ethan wasn't there for me when I needed him. Tears collected in my eyes. Fantastic. I'd driven four hours and he wasn't even home. I started to turn away when the door swung open. Without thinking, I rushed forward, flinging my arms around his neck.

“Thank God you're here.”

“Kara?”

I froze as the voice—the very Australian voice—registered in my mind. It wasn't Ethan at the door. It was Colt. And I still had my arms very much wrapped around him. I sucked in a breath and stepped away, my hands flying to my mouth.

“Oh! I'm sorry. I thought you were Ethan.”

He cocked his head and crossed his arms as though my words had offended him. He was wearing loose gym shorts and a fitted white T-shirt that showed off his golden tan skin. “Are you all right?” he asked, taking a step toward me.

I wanted to back away, but I couldn't bring myself to take the step. I felt so raw and exposed, all the usual composure I wore like my favorite accessory now tossed aside. It was just me. Kara, the mess.

“I . . . I don't know,” I answered honestly.

“Here, come inside,” he said, stepping back for me to go in before him. I glanced through the doorway.

“Is Ethan here?”

“No, he went out of town for the night. Didn't he tell you?” He hesitated and I got the impression he wanted to say more but was restraining himself. Ethan and Colt were roommates, but sometimes I wondered whether they were actually friends.

My eyes dropped to the concrete walkway where I stood. “Right . . . I guess I forgot.” I had no idea that Ethan was going out of town, and now that I thought about it, I hadn't talked to him in two or three days. Sure, we had texted, but that wasn't the same thing as hearing a person's voice. And when you were dating someone, you should want to hear that person's voice. Right?

Colt seemed to sense my unease, so he reached out and guided me toward the door. “Come inside.”

I eyed his hair, how it curled on the ends, reckless and wild. I wondered how he could look so rough and scary on the outside, but at the same time be so kind on the inside. I thought of all the simple texts that had been sent between us, all the winky faces and sarcasm and LOLs in class. It felt like I barely knew him, yet every part of me ached to be near him. Like craving a warm blanket in the cold. Just thinking his name made me feel better, lighter.

“I'm not sure I should,” I said, hoping he knew what I meant without giving too much of myself away.

Colt ran a hand through his hair and released a long breath. “I can't send you away. It'll be fine. Stay.”

Stay
. The word sounded like it held a hundred pounds worth of meaning that neither of us wanted to address in that moment. He wasn't just asking me to stay. He was asking me to take a leap, one that I wasn't prepared to take.

But it was nearly ten o'clock. I couldn't drive back to Charleston now, and I knew no one else at Georgia.

The next second, a door down the hall from Colt and Ethan's burst open and a pair of girls dressed in party wear—all skimpy dresses and heels too high to walk in—clumsily emerged, one of them fidgeting to lock their door.

Colt eyed them and they returned a pair of flirtatious smiles. “Colt,” they purred together. “We're going to a party down the street. Want to go?”

I could barely understand them through the slurring.

“Nah, I'm good. But is someone else driving you? You shouldn't drive.”

My heart turned to mush at the care in his words. Most guys wouldn't care whether a pair of drunk girls made it safely home or not, but then again, Colt was nothing like most guys.

The girls giggled like he'd said the funniest thing in the world. A part of me fought the urge to roll my eyes, but another part was concerned. They were clearly drunk. They shouldn't even be going out like that.

“Yeah, we have a pledge picking us up.” They stared at Colt like he was a juicy piece of meat they wanted to sink their teeth into, and I found myself stepping in front of him and shooting them a look that said he was already marked as Kara territory. Then I immediately felt sick to my stomach for even caring. He was Ethan's roommate, for God's sake!
Fuck, Kara. Fuck
!

The girls started down the steps, and I spun around to find Colt standing closer to me, his expression hooded. “You're confusing, you know?”

“Everything about this is confusing.”

He nodded and stepped back, so I could go into his apartment.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I wanted to leave. It felt weird standing in Ethan's apartment without him there. Add in that I was with a guy I had not-so-honorable thoughts about and the awkwardness skyrocketed to straight agony.

I knew where the leather sofa was comfiest. I knew the refrigerator squeaked when you opened it too slowly. I knew the apartment nearly as well as my own, yet suddenly I was seeing it in a new light. The guitar case sitting by the sliding glass door. I assumed it was Colt's, but I wasn't entirely sure. It felt like I only knew a part of Ethan, not all of him.

I walked over and sat down on the sofa. “Where did he go?” I asked, my voice small. We both knew I didn't know he'd gone.

“Some cabin in the mountains with his frat brothers.”

I nodded.

“I'm sorry,” he said, as he slipped into the kitchen and brought back two cans of beer. “Want one?”

“Thanks . . .”

He popped one open and passed it to me. “You don't seem overly bothered that Ethan didn't tell you he was going out tonight.”

I thought about it for a moment. “I'm more upset because I'm
supposed to be
rather than actually caring. Does that make sense?”

Colt stared at me, clearly biting his tongue to keep from saying what he really thought.

“You can give me your opinion. We're friends.”

“Are we?” he said, his accent making the simple words sound way sexier than they should.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to continue looking at him. “Of course.”

“Then I think you're insane for staying with the bloke. Roommate or not, he treats you like shit. You shouldn't take that. No girl should.”

I knew he was getting upset. His Aussie slang tended to slip out most when his emotions were high. I straightened as I realized that I'd been paying closer attention to him than I intended. Much closer attention. I finished my beer and set the empty can on their end table.

“Want another?”

I opened my mouth to say no, that I was already buzzed enough to hit Olivia's drinking scale, but I didn't want to think so much right now. Whatever was happening with Ethan and me wasn't healthy. He left without telling me. I texted his roommate behind his back. None of it was healthy. Yet . . . I didn't know how to end things with him. He knew all my secrets, all my flaws, and he loved me anyway. What if no one else ever loved me despite those ugly parts of me?

Colt pushed off the sofa and started for the kitchen, tossing his can in the trash as he went. “I'm bringing you another.”

“Thanks,” I said as he handed me a fresh beer. “I just . . . Even when you know you should, it's hard to end things when the person you're ending things with has been a part of your life for so long. Ethan's seen a lot. He's been with me through so much. It's just . . . turning my back on him now feels like I'd be saying that none of that mattered. Like it meant nothing when he was there for me, ya know? I don't want to be that girl.”

Colt took a long pull from his beer and then rested it on his knee, his long fingers gently wrapped around the silver can. I found myself transfixed by them, how smooth they looked. I wondered if they would feel that smooth against my skin or if—

“Kara?”

My gaze jerked over to him. “Uh, sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you love him.”

I pulled back. “Of course.”

“But, are you
in love
with him?”

I glanced away, unable to look at him as he watched for my reaction. Somehow it felt like Colt could see into my soul. Like lying could never be a possibility with him. “Can we talk about something else? I just . . . I can't talk about him with you.”

Colt nodded slowly, understanding what I was saying without making me say the words out loud. I couldn't say them out loud, because then suddenly my feelings would become real and alive and I would be forced to deal with them. He leaned back against the armrest of the sofa and faced me. “My dad cheated on my mum. It was years ago, when I was just eight, but somehow I've never forgiven him. Now that he's the one who's alive, even though she's the better person, I find it impossible to be around him. I've never hated anyone in my life more than I hate him.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, though I knew it wasn't even close to enough. Simple words didn't erase the pain of losing someone, and saying them felt so very shallow, but I had to say something. Sometimes words were all we had. “Life's so shitty sometimes, isn't it?”

“The shittiest.”

We fell into silence for a moment, sadness swirling all around us, and then he said, “Now it's your turn.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Confess something. Something you don't like to talk about. Something only a few people know.”

My eyes locked on his, fear ripping through me. I couldn't confess about the abortion, not now when Colt had been so kind to me, when he thought I was worthy of someone better than Ethan. If he knew . . . he'd know that I didn't deserve anything at all. Goose bumps rose across my skin as he watched me, and again, I felt the sensation that he already knew my secrets. I cocked my head, glancing from eye to eye as he watched me, and then I straightened, realization and anger coming alive inside me.

Ethan.

“You know, don't you?”

“I only know what you've told me, Kara, which isn't much,” he said, but I saw the flash in his eyes. The quick switch, like he was intentionally trying to control his reaction. My stomach dropped.

I studied his expression again, waiting to find some hint that Ethan had told him all my darkest secrets, but nothing came. I relaxed back against the sofa, still uneasy, but I was sure that if he knew, really knew, he wouldn't be able to hold back his judgment.

“I once dated Preston. It was high school and a long time ago. But we kept it from Olivia. She was devastated when she found out. Nearly ruined our friendship forever.”

“Why did you keep it from her?”

I glanced back over at him, again searching for that telltale look that he knew. Again, nothing. “It was a long time ago. She was a little broken then, and we didn't want to give her a reason to run away from him. She and Preston are so perfect together. I don't think she would have allowed herself to like him if she knew we were once together.”

“So, you're saying you'd do it again. Keep it from her.”

I focused on him. “Don't you think a lie is worth it if the truth would hurt someone?”

“No. I don't think a lie is ever okay.”

“Oh really? So, let's say a little girl comes up to you on Christmas Eve and asks you if Santa Claus is real. She's all big, hopeful eyes and pleading hands. All
please tell me he's real.
You're telling me you'd break the poor kid's heart? You'd out Santa?”

Colt burst out laughing. “All right then. You got me. I'd lie my bloody ass off.”

I smiled and suddenly the mood felt lighter, the space between us easier to stay in. I eyed his arms. “Tell me more about your tattoos. It looks like they're telling a story. And why do you have that one”—I reached across the sofa and touched the red leaf on his left forearm that was duplicated on his right biceps—“twice?”

“My mum was born in Canada. The maple leaf is their national emblem, so it's for her. This one”—he pointed to the one on his forearm—“is red for her life. The other is black for her death.”

My eyes drifted up to his, but I didn't say that I was sorry. Not for this. I knew the tattoos were his way of coping with her death. They were special to him. The only way he could deal with losing her. My insides longed to pull him to me, to show him that he wasn't alone. Not now.

But I couldn't. I could still feel the warmth on my fingertip from touching the leaf. Everything in me ached to reach out and touch him again. If I felt his body against mine, his hair on my neck, his breath on my face, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop myself from taking it further.

I cleared my throat and focused back on his arms. “And what about that one?” I asked, pointing at the line of scripture just below the maple leaf on his right biceps.

“Proverbs 28:18. My mother was a missionary. She was good—pure in every way. That verse is about integrity.”

I thought of the irony of what he was saying. “But Christianity teaches forgiveness.”

“Indeed.”

“Yet, you're unable to forgive your dad?”

His jaw ticked. “I try to be a good person, Kara. For my mum, for my family back home. But there's only so much I can do. Some things are in the other person's hands. My dad has never once said he's sorry for what he did. He's never talked to me about it at all. Instead, he acts as though everything is normal, when nothing about our relationship is normal. He is not a good person.”