Miles From Kara (7 page)

I sat down behind the desk in session room B, trying—and failing—to keep my thoughts focused on work. Instead of Colt. It had been three days since we'd sat together by the pool, and while I had hoped to run into him while he was at his internship at the architecture firm down the street, I'd yet to see him even once.

I checked my phone again, searching first through missed calls, then text messages, then clicked my Facebook app. I typed in Colt's name, because apparently I was getting a bachelor's degree in stalking, but there were no updates there either. Panic coursed through me as I wondered if maybe he'd left Charleston altogether.

I had just decided to stop being a chicken and just text him, when the door to my session room opened and Maggie waddled in.

I stood immediately, wishing they had an exit door in these rooms so the freaked-out counselors like me could flee.

“Please,” Maggie said, her hands out again, like she was willing to stop me by force if necessary. “I need to talk to someone. I know you don't want to talk to me. I know that. I just . . . please.” Her eyes began to fill with tears. I drew a breath and forced myself to sit back down in my seat, with Maggie now across from me. I threaded my fingers together and leaned into my desk for support. “How can I help you?” I asked, all business-like and void of emotion. I waited for her to answer, and then before I could repeat my question, she burst into tears.

Instantly, I jumped to my feet, again wishing for a damn escape, but then the real me seeped in through my fear. I drew a long breath, watching as she cried. I couldn't just let her cry. Besides, I'd talked with countless people now, most of whom only needed someone to listen. Maggie was no different than them, at least in theory. I walked around the desk to the chair beside her and sat down. “What happened?” I asked, more gently this time.

Maggie reached for a tissue and tried miserably to clean up her face, then placed her shaking hands in her lap and shook her head. “My dad wants me to give the baby up. You know, for adoption.”

I nodded slowly. “You mentioned that before. But what do you want?”

Her bottom lip shook as she looked up at me. “I don't know. I want to be a good mom, and I just . . . look at me. How can I be a good mom? I'm still a kid myself.”

I reached out and took her hand, instantly wishing I'd thought before I did it. Maggie's gaze fixed on me, and I saw hope there, like she wanted me to tell her that she was wrong, that she would be a fantastic mother, that it didn't matter that she was sixteen. But I couldn't say those things. I didn't believe them, and I had decided when I took the job that if I was going to be a good counselor, it was best to try to not lie.

Maggie's body began to tremble as sobs wrecked through her. “You think he's right, don't you? You think I should give her up.”

“Honestly?” I said. “I don't know what's right here. I only know that you have to think about something more than just you and what you want. It's not just about what will make you happy. You also have to think about what's best for your baby. And maybe that
is
you. Maybe it is. But also . . . maybe it's not.”

She nodded through her tears and I grabbed her another tissue. “How do I figure that out?”

I shook my head. “I don't know. I don't think anyone does . . . other than you. I think you'll find the answer inside yourself. Maybe not this moment, but you will, and even though it may hurt or scare you, I think you know what's right here. For you and your baby.”

She dipped her head and cried into her hands for a long time, before leaning back in her chair and staring at the wall across from us. I did the same, waiting to see what she would do next, when she said, “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I could love this baby already. She's not even here, ya know? How can I love her? But every time I feel her kick or listen to her heartbeat, my own heart goes crazy. I am so in love with her. How can I just give her up? How will I ever survive that?”

She started to lose it again, so I reached out and placed my arm around her, pulling her close. “What would you do if you didn't have her? What are you like when you're alone? Tell me about you, Maggie. Just you.”

Maggie swallowed hard. “I was on the debate team and beta club. I was never, ya know, popular, but I had my place at my school. I knew who I was. And then my mom died and I just . . . lost it. I didn't know who I was anymore without her there, stroking my hair, telling me that I was wonderful. Then my dad fell apart. He just didn't know how to be a dad anymore. Like all he could handle was his own grief. I still can't believe I've only had sex one time. One single mistake. And this happened.”

I squeezed her hand. “So, what about college then? Would you ever want to go?”

She nodded. “Definitely. I wanted to study law. Can you believe that? A future lawyer knocked up.”

“You could still do that.”

“Not if I have her. Every moment I have will be spent working some dead-end job just to cover diapers.”

Again, I couldn't deny what she was saying, so I stayed quiet. “When do you have to decide?”

Her expression turned sadder. “Soon. There are families interested in her. They want to meet me, but all I can think about is the fact that she's mine. My baby. I don't want them to take her. I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do.” She turned to look at me, but all I could do was look back, because there was no right answer here. No easy path. No simple instruction. Either way, her life would never be the same.

***

I made my way up the steps to my apartment in Charleston Haven, my heart heavy from two back-to-back sessions at Helping Hands. Maggie had left shortly after revealing that she was considering giving up her baby for adoption, and then I tried to help out a patient with suicidal thoughts. It was horrifying to have to listen to everything he endured on a daily basis, and I tried to help him through his troubles, but my mind kept drifting back to Maggie. I couldn't get the sad look on her face out of my head, the one she had when she told me she wanted to keep her baby. The torment was so apparent on her face as she had struggled with the choice she had to make.

My mind drifted back to my abortion appointment. My mom had stepped outside to take a call, and as soon as the door shut, the doctor came over to me, her eyes locked on mine as she asked if I was sure about my decision. She said that it wasn't something I had to do that day, that I could think about it, but she didn't know my mother. I remembered telling myself that I wouldn't cry as I told him I was sure, though I knew my bottom lip was shaking, giving me away. And then it was over and Mom drove me home in silence, never once asking if I was okay or if I needed anything. She never hugged me or kissed my temple or smiled reassuringly as she had when I was little. And she never would again. The biggest decision of my life, and the most important person to me showed no support at all.

I pushed my key into the knob at my apartment and turned. Immediately, I was met by laughter. I cringed, wishing I'd texted Olivia before coming home to see what our crowd was doing, but it was too late. Sarah shouted my name from the common room, and I went on inside to find everyone there, all of them dressed in swimsuits.

“Uh, hey,” I said, plastering on my usual fake-Kara smile. “What are we doing?”

Olivia came out of her room, her hands in her hair pulling it into a messy bun. “The beach. You in?”

“Oh . . .” I glanced around at Preston and Taylor, Sarah and Alyssa, before returning my attention to Olivia. “I—”

Just then a knock sounded at our door and I peered back at it, then at Olivia, who had a guilty look on her face.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Sarah invited him.”

“Him?”

Oh.

I ran my fingers absently through my hair and tried to remember if I'd taken the time to fix my makeup at Helping Hands before leaving. Likely not. Olivia stared at me for a moment, making sure I was cool with Colt coming with us, but all I could do was shrug. She went for the door, and then Colt was there in the common room, his eyes instantly fixed on me. I tried not to stare at the way his swim trunks hung low on his hips, or how his white T-shirt clung to his chest. But all the while, my heart was still back in high-school Kara's body, mourning the worst non-decision of her life.

I dipped my head and started for my room. I had just begun to close the door, when Colt slipped inside and shut it behind him. Rage lit inside me. “What do you think you're doing?” Not a peep from him since he'd held me by the soft sounds of the guitar, and now he thought he could just walk into my room?

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” I said, though I knew my voice gave me away. I wasn't fine. I was so, so far from fine. I felt sick and sad and like nothing at all could make it go away. I wanted to help Maggie, but I couldn't even get over my own pregnancy. How could I help her get through hers?

Colt took a step toward me, and I felt my resolve beginning to crack. “Why don't we stay in?”

“In?”

Another step. “Just you and me.”

My brain unfroze enough for me to think through what he was asking—what it would mean. My eyes dropped to the carpet, and I took a step back. “I think we should go. I'll be fine. I just need a second.” My gaze lifted, and for a moment I saw a flash of hurt, then he corrected and once again had the small smile on his face.

“No worries,” he said. “I'll just be waiting.” And then he slipped back out my door.

I sat down on my bed as soon as he left, my head in my hands. What was wrong with me? Colt was kind and funny and sexy as hell. Why couldn't I let him in?

I went over to my dresser and pulled out two bikinis, one a tiny black string thing, the other a tankini. I settled on the tankini, but then my mind drifted back to Colt, to his low-hanging swim trunks and the body I knew was just below his T-shirt, and slipped on the string bikini instead. I wasn't sure where I wanted things to go with Colt, but I knew I wanted him to want me the way I wanted him. It was time to stop pushing and start trying.

I pulled on a sheer cover-up over the bikini, grabbed my beach towel and sunscreen, and went for the door. I expected everyone to be sitting in awkward silence, and found a smile stretching across my face when instead the girls were all laughing and the guys were talking about baseball, and everything—and everyone—looked right. Like they were exactly where they were meant to be.

My eyes drifted over to Colt for a quick look to find him laughing at something Preston had said. His gaze met mine quickly and he winked with a smile before returning back to his conversation.

I grinned, my heart swelling despite my best efforts to keep it in check, and then when I looked up I found Olivia and Sarah watching me. Olivia cocked her head in question, but didn't say a word.

And then we were on our way to the beach spot where everyone tended to end up. It was a windy day, but the sun shone bright above with few clouds to break up its rays, and I was glad that despite my easily tanned skin, I'd thought to bring sunscreen.

I lay out my towel and reached for my sunscreen and began to do the dance of reaching my back, when a strong hand reached for the bottle.

“Let me,” Colt said.

I swallowed hard as I peered over my shoulder at him. “You realize we've just entered into an eighties movie?”

He grinned. “My favorite kind.”

I laughed. “You know, it's hard to tell whether you're being serious when you say things like that. Like that FB post last night. The one about the Beatles song? What was that?”

His eyes met mine. “I thought you needed some space. I'm sorry I didn't call.”

“What? Oh, I'm . . . fine. It's . . . fine.”

“Then why do you seem angry when you speak to me? Why are you avoiding looking at me?”

I opened my mouth to deny what he was saying, but his eyes were studying me, waiting to see the lie form. “I wanted to hear from you,” I said, my insides cringing at my honesty. I could be honest with everyone else, but I always struggled to admit things about myself. “I never want anything from anyone. But I wanted to hear from you.”

Colt considered me, then the wind whipped around us, tossing my hair into my face. I reached up to push it away, when his fingertips slid over my cheek, gently threading through my hair, combing it back. He gripped the back of my head, his gaze fixing me with that dark, hooded look he so often had when no one else was around. My heartbeat picked up speed, a noticeable presence in my chest. I only had a second, a breath, to realize what was about to happen, and then his lips were on mine, soft and warm, telling me what his words had yet to confess—he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. Heat pushed through my chest, spreading down to my core, settling over me, goose bumps in its wake.

I leaned into the kiss, desperate to feel the freedom it conjured, but then Colt was pulling away, the kiss never building to the frenzy I craved.

He laughed as his eyes met mine, and then he leaned closer to my ear and whispered, “You're going to undo me if you keep that pout on those sexy lips. But we have an audience and I don't think you want your mates to see how badly you turn me on.”

I gasped and looked around, and sure enough, every set of eyes was on us. My cheeks burned as I took in their expressions, the questions that I knew would come. I had never mentioned Colt and me to any of them. Only Olivia had guessed that we were becoming something more.

Colt kissed my lips easily once more before pushing to his feet and strutting toward the guys. “Who wants to toss a ball?” he asked, reaching down to strip off his T-shirt. My eyes widened as I took in the perfection of his body, the golden tone of his skin mixed with the black and colored ink that spiraled down his arms and around his back. The hard lines of his pectoral muscles, the curves of his abs. I had to swallow hard to keep from drooling.