9. Kara
9
Kara
“H ey, Mom!” Kara felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and turned away from the table. Charlotte was standing there, her eyes gleaming. “I’d like you to meet someone.”
Kara’s gaze flickered to the man standing beside Charlotte, and her breath hitched.
“This is Ethan. He was there last night, called for help and everything. Crazy, right?” She crouched, her hand outstretched to the dog next to him. “Oh, and this beautiful boy is Hero! My Hero, yes you are, who’s a good boy?”
Seeing him again felt like someone had shaken her awake from a long-forgotten dream.
Kara’s heart pounded as she tried to make sense of it all—Ethan, standing there, as if the years hadn’t passed. But they had. Twenty-two years, full of what ifs and could’ve beens .
“Oh ... hey,” Kara managed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes locked onto Ethan’s, unable to look away as her hand blindly reached behind her, fumbling for a brochure on the table, fingers clenching around the paper, the glossy finish crinkling as she absorbed the sight of the unexpected duo before her.
“Kara,” Ethan said.
His voice had a rumble that resonated through her. It was deeper than the memories she had of it, but it wasn’t all that had changed. The lines around his eyes had deepened, and sandy blonde hair had given way to salt-and-pepper streaks. He’d also filled out, his shoulders broader than she remembered. But his stance, the way he held himself—that was all very familiar, achingly so.
As her gaze traveled lower, she noticed something new: intricate tattoos wound down his left arm, peeking from beneath his sleeve. Black ink patterns twisted around his bicep, the design full of symbols she couldn’t quite make out, but their presence added a roughness to him that hadn’t been there before. This Ethan was different, shaped by years she hadn’t been a part of.
“It’s just like in the movies, isn’t it?” Charlotte bounced on her toes. “Mom, aren’t you gonna thank him?”
Kara blinked, coming back to herself. “Right, yes. Thanks, Ethan. For helping Charlotte. If you hadn’t ...” Her voice trailed off.
Ethan shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “Anyone would’ve done the same. Just luck that I was nearby.”
“I’ll say.” Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “And here you are, showing up to the adoption event. What are the chances?”
Kara forced a faint smile and crossed her arms.
Charlotte glanced back and forth between them. “Well, I’m just glad we all got to meet.”
Ethan’s hand moved to the back of his neck. “Actually, we’ve—”
“Well, hello ladies!” Ada’s voice broke in as she approached. “Kara, Charlotte, this is so wonderful! And is that a snow cone stand I spotted?”
Kara nodded, grateful for the interruption. “Good eye, Ada. Some folks from town volunteered to run it. All the proceeds go to the rescue.”
Ada rummaged in her purse, retrieving a crisp paper check, which she handed over with a flourish. “I wanted to drop this off. And wouldn’t you know, I bumped into Ethan here who offered me a ride.”
Kara accepted the check, her mouth falling open at the figure staring back at her. “Ada, this is—wow. You have no idea how much this will help us.”
Ada waved off Kara’s surprise. “It’s nothing, dear. I know you’ll put it to good use.” She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, glancing around with an approving nod. “Now, how’s the event going? Good, I hope?”
Kara’s professional demeanor returned as she surveyed the crowd. The scent of kettle corn drifted through the air from a nearby cart as laughter mixed with the occasional yip of a dog. Families meandered through the rows of animal pens, children tugging their parents toward the playful dogs. Couples strolled hand in hand, smiling at the animals and chatting as they paused to read adoption signs.
“It’s been great, actually. Lots of visitors, and the animals are loving the attention. I think we might get a few adoptions today.”
Charlotte leaned in, giving her mom a quick side hug. “Told you everything would come together. It’s going even better than we planned.”
Kara returned the hug, then gently disentangled herself from her daughter’s embrace. Clearing her throat, she smoothed out the crumpled brochure in her hand. “Well, I should get back to—”
“Wait a minute.” Ada blurted. “Weren’t you two a thing? Way back when?”
Kara’s spine snapped straight, the words hitting her like a cold gust of wind. Her gaze darted to Ethan, finding him suddenly fascinated with the ground, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
Kara swallowed hard, knowing she’d have to field this one. “Well, Ada, we—”
From the corner of her eye, Kara caught a flash of movement.
“Ada, hey!” Emma rushed over, gently grasping Ada’s wrist. “Sorry to interrupt, but I could really use your help with something. Charlotte too, if y’all are free?” She glanced at Kara. “It’s a bit of a three-person job.”
Ada hesitated, looking back at Kara and Ethan. “Oh, but we were in the middle of—”
“It’ll just take a minute, promise,” Emma insisted, already steering Ada away. She caught Kara’s eye, a silent understanding passing between them. “We’ll be right back!”
Kara let out a small sigh. Thank you, Em.
Charlotte didn’t need to hear any more, not before Kara could explain things to her.
“Oh, just one more thing!” Charlotte came running back, slightly out of breath. “Ethan, you should totally volunteer here sometime. The animals would love you! We also kinda really need the help.”
“Thanks,” Ethan said with a half-smile. “I’ll, uh, think about it.”
Charlotte snatched a brochure from her mom’s hand and handed it to Ethan. “Here, take this. It’s got all the info—the animals we help, how to sign up, shift times, everything. We’re pretty flexible, and Mom’s usually around to train new folks. You’d pick it up in no time!”
Kara froze, momentarily stunned. What is she doing?
Charlotte smiled at him, then gave her mom a knowing glance and a wink. “Okay, gonna help Emma now!” She ducked away and disappeared into the crowd, giving Hero one last scratch behind the ears.
Kara turned back to Ethan. What could she possibly say after all these years to the person she thought, once upon a time, that she’d spend her whole life with?
A lengthy silence stood between them before she said the only thing that came to mind. “Nice day, huh?”
The words hung in the air.
Kara mentally facepalmed herself. Of all topics. The weather. Really?
Ethan’s head bobbed, seemingly unfazed by her best conversation starter. “Yeah, it’s ... pleasant? Cooler than I expected for May.”
Kara drew in a slow breath. This was her chance to redeem herself, a second chance rescue—if there ever was one—at a better first impression. She willed her voice to be steady. “So, when did you get back?”
“Just drove in yesterday,” he said, patting Hero’s head. “Dad passed, so I’m getting everything sorted. Probably heading back in a few days.”
The awkwardness seemed to evaporate in the face of this news. “Oh, Ethan—I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
Ethan shrugged. “Thanks. It’s—yeah.” He paused. “I’m just relieved Charlotte wasn’t hurt in that accident.”
Kara’s brow furrowed, thrown by the shift in conversation. “Wait, so why were you there?”
“It happened right in front of Dad’s place.” Ethan’s gaze grew distant, unfocused for a moment. “Heard the crash and rushed out to it.” His attention shifted back to the glossy paper in his hands as he flipped it over.
“Oh.” Kara’s eyes followed his and her stomach churned as memories of late-night edits and rushed printing flooded her mind. She bit her lower lip. The cheaper paper felt like a glaring mistake now.
“You don’t have to read it all,” Kara muttered, resisting the urge to snatch it back. “It’s—not our best work. Threw it together last minute.”
Ethan looked up, meeting her eyes. A small, reassuring smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Are you kidding? This is incredible, Kara. The layout, the information—it’s really well done. You should be proud of this.”
Those ocean-blue eyes were just as deep and mesmerizing as they’d been twenty years ago when they sat in his old blue Chevy. For a split second, she was eighteen again, inside his truck with the scent of salt and the grit of sand clinging to her skin. His fingers entwined with hers one last time, promising to call. The bittersweet ache of leaving him, not knowing it would be the last time they’d be together like that. She remembered Ethan’s words: “I love you. You know that, right? I’ll love you forever, Kara.” But did he mean it? Does he still—
The memory dissolved as Hero’s soft whine pulled Kara back to the present. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. Her eyes went to Hero, who had settled at Ethan’s feet, his mismatched eyes calmly tracking the people and animals milling around them.
“Must have taken a lot of work to get it to this point. How long have you had this place?” Ethan’s voice brought her attention back to him.
“Going on twenty years now,” Kara said. “It was a slow start. Renovating the old barn alone took almost a year. But now?” She gestured around them. “We try to host these events monthly. I wish we could do more but, well, you can imagine the work involved.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” His eyes swept over the area before landing back on Kara.
Kara’s cheeks warmed under his gaze.
Amazing? After all this time, he still thinks I’m amazing?
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, buying time to compose herself. Part of her wanted to bask in the compliment, but another part remembered the pain of their separation and urged caution.He cleared his throat. “I mean, this is all amazing. I’m guessing you have a pretty big team of volunteers to pull off something like this?”
“We do. Well, sort of—used to. Could always use more hands.” Kara hesitated. “Look, about what Charlotte said. There’s no pressure, okay? I know you’re not staying long. It was just her being Charlotte.”
Ethan’s gaze locked onto hers, those gorgeous eyes appearing to see right through hers. “And if I wanted to volunteer? Would that be okay?”
The question lingered between them, loaded with two decades of unspoken words and missed opportunities.
Every second stretched impossibly long. She knew that whatever she said next could change everything—again.
Kara’s heart hammered, her pulse drumming in her ears, as if the moment itself held its breath, waiting for the right words to fill the space, but what came out was, “Well, I mean if—”