Until Harry(62)

“Yeah,” – he chuckled – “I know.”

My lip twitched.

We walked in an oddly comfortable silence for a few minutes, and when we neared the inn, something clicked within me. Back at my parents’ house, my instinct had been to run away because that’s what I was good at, but now I got it – that nothing had ever been resolved by leaving them, by leaving Kale, by leaving York. For six years I’d felt exactly the same as the day I left York, if not worse. I’d allowed my fears to blind me. I’d let the “what ifs” win.

What if I couldn’t handle seeing Kale happy with a family?

What if I came back home and fell into a deeper state of depression?

What if? What if? What if?

“What’s wrong?” Kale asked, clearly wondering why I came to a sudden halt.

I looked at him and blinked. “I’ve just realised something.”

He licked his lips. “What’s that?”

“I don’t want to stay at the inn; I don’t want to be away from my family,” I said, and shook my head clear as a cloud of confusion lifted from me. “I’ve been on my own for so long that I felt like I needed to get out of the house and away from them, but that’s not what I need at all. I need their love and support, and I think they need mine too.”

A smile broke out over Kale’s face. “Then let’s get your things from the inn, check you out and go back to your parents’ house.”

Could things really be that simple? I wondered.

I nodded. “Yeah . . . yeah, let’s do that.”

We walked to the Holiday Inn, and before we headed up to my room, I informed the lady behind the desk that I would be checking out. It was past checkout time, and I didn’t know if she would charge me a fee, but she told me it was perfectly fine, so Kale and I headed up to my room.

He hovered near the door while I walked into the room and lifted my suitcase onto the bed.

“That is your case?” he asked.

I nodded. “I left the city in such a rush, I just grabbed what I could think of and practically ran to the airport.”

Kale was silent for a moment and then he said, “I’m sorry you’re going through this, Lane.”

He was still the sweetest, most caring person, even with the hollowness within him now.

When I didn’t reply, Kale told me to get any belongings of mine from the bathroom, and he would wrap up my hair appliances, laptop and chargers. I planned on doing exactly what he asked, but the silence between us screamed at me. I didn’t understand why he was being so nice to me. I understood his being kind during my uncle’s funeral, but why hadn’t he so much as hinted at being mad? I’d left on such bad terms and hadn’t been there for him when Kaden died.

I swallowed and said, “Why don’t you hate me?”

He stopped rolling the wire around my hairdryer, and placed it on the desk.

“I’m not doing this in a hotel room, Lane.”

I sucked up my fear.

“And you aren’t leaving here until you answer my question,” I countered. “I don’t want to have our talk right now, I just want to know why you don’t hate me when I have given you every reason to.”

The muscles in Kale’s back tightened before he turned to face me, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “I’ve never hated you, and I never will,” he simply said with a shrug of his shoulders. “You mean more to me than any other living person on this planet, and if you think after not having you in my life for six years that I’m just going to ignore you and play some stupid game, then you’ve got another think coming, kid.”

I felt my eye twitch. “I’m not a kid anymore, Kale.”

The eyes I loved so much dropped to my chest, then lowered until he was leisurely drinking me in. It made me feel weak; one look from his whisky-coloured eyes and I was done in.

“I can see that,” he mused.

I swallowed and felt in my heart it was the right moment for me to say what I had been carrying around since last night.

“Kale, I’m so sorry about Kaden.”

He went silent for a long time.

“Who told you about him?” he asked after a deafening silence.

I looked down to my feet.

“My dad. I was at my Aunt Teresa’s and Uncle Harry’s grave the night before the funeral, and he showed me . . . showed me where Kaden was buried. I saw you and Drew at the plot yesterday after my uncle’s funeral, and I wanted to go over to you, but I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Look at me,” he said after a moment.

I exhaled before looking up at him, hating that his expression had changed to one of sadness.

“Thank you for your condolences about my son.”