Chapter 17 Far From Home
FAR FROM HOME (MARGOT)
As soon as we’re back at the house, we check the locks on all the doors and windows.
That’s becoming habit now, nothing out of the ordinary, but there’s a fresh urgency.
Somehow, I still have my hair.
Kind of miraculous when I’ve been fighting the urge to rip it out for the better part of an hour.
Thankfully, the kids are fine. They settle down in front of the TV in the living room, and I’ve made us this orange blossom tea I picked up at the market.
Not blueberry.
After this sad experience, I’m going to be over it for the next decade.
We’re in the library now with our tea, both of us trying to hold it together.
I just feel like I’m waiting for a crash of thunder. It’s like watching a storm rolling in every time he moves.
Kane stands with his back against the oversized leather chair, his head bowed and his shoulders stone as he scrolls his phone.
His vicious scowl says everything.
There are only a couple articles about us so far, but it’ll be everywhere soon. Molehills turn into mountains so easily in the media world.
“Hey,” I whisper, rubbing his arm as I hand him the tea. He sets his phone down, but he doesn’t pull me in closer for a hug.
“Hey, yourself.”
“It’s not so bad. We’ve both been through this song and dance before.” I’ve said the same thing three times since we got home, and each time I’ve been met with an indifferent grunt.
This time feels different.
Almost shameful.
Because we’re not a real couple navigating how to deal with the press so we can build our lives together.
We’re just two strangers with great chemistry and sheet-ripping nights.
Nothing intended to last—and definitely not under acid speculation from outsiders.
“I’m sorry as hell.” He slurps his tea so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t burn his tongue.
“Don’t be. It’s fine, honestly. I’m a Blackthorn.
” I laugh as I lean beside him. “This kind of stuff happens when you have an interesting life. Nothing new. I probably would’ve gotten a mention or two anyway just by being here and poking my head into town.
This other stuff, it’s just—” I shrug. “It’s drama. Clown stuff.”
“No.” He sets the mug down with a clink and faces me, his green eyes blazing. “It’s not business as usual, duchess.”
I swallow hard.
“If you’re mad that they think we’re dating, I get it. I—” I stop. I don’t know. This is the awkward part where I fidget in place, sipping my tea so I don’t have to look at him. “It’s happened before when I’ve been hooked up with guys. It’ll pass.”
His nostrils flare, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
“Is that supposed to make it better? More unwanted attention when we don’t even know who tried to fuck with the house?”
It was.
But I can’t say that now.
“All I’m saying is, the hit pieces are old hat for me. I’m fine. We’re fine.”
“I’m not,” he snaps. “This is a load of horseshit.”
“They’re just rumors, Kane.”
“And they shouldn’t have found us to run their mouths.” He paces between the tall bookshelves against the wall, and I watch the hard, angry line of his mouth, the tension ripping through him.
The way he moves, all power and intention.
So gracefully intimidating for such a large man.
I want to comfort him, but I don’t think I could bear being shoved away.
“They shouldn’t have known shit,” he snarls. “I’ve kept my head down and no one knows we’re here.”
“People talk. You know that. Pretty much all they do in sleepy little towns like this.” I shrug.
“Hunkering down with the Blackthorn heiress?” He shakes his head in a short, sharp motion. “What bullshit.”
I try not to be hurt.
It makes sense that he’s angry being ambushed, watching his not-so-peaceful family vacation go up in smoke. What little was left of it thanks to me.
It also makes sense that he feels he can talk about it openly.
“I never meant for this to happen,” he says raggedly, looking back at me. Every inch of his body is taut. “Never meant to drag you into this.”
“Seriously, stop. If we start pointing fingers over who’s more newsworthy, we’ll be here all night.
” This time, I head for him, placing my hands on his chest and looking up into his face.
His heart drums too fast. “It’s fine, Kane.
Worse things have happened. I’ve lived through far uglier whispers, and I bet you have too. ”
“That’s not the point.” His hand finds the back of my arm, but his grip feels loose. “I hate that it ruined our time here. Almost as bad as that prowler.”
“It hasn’t ruined anything. Not yet.”
He exhales roughly.
“And fuck—all the rumors around me could smear you, too. You’ve got a life and a career.”
“What rumors? That we’re dating?” I smile unevenly. “And we’ll worry about my career when my designs give me one.”
Still, I’m so confused.
“Goddammit.” His eyes glaze as he stares into space over my head. “We never should’ve come here.”
Ouch.
My heart shatters like a frozen ball of ice.
“Now you’re being ridiculous.” I reach up and pat his cheek. “Look at me. Look at you. We’re cool. We’re not at anyone’s mercy besides ourselves.”
He shakes his head severely.
“I can’t have my shit affecting you.”
“How am I affected, Kane? Am I missing a limb?” I reach up, fingers tangling in his scruff until he looks at me. “Dude. I’m more resilient than you give me credit for. This isn’t the end of the world. We’ll just keep a low profile until it’s time to go.”
“Time to go,” he repeats bitterly. His fingers fold around my wrist and he slowly pushes my hand away. “You make it sound so simple.”
I don’t like the bite in his voice.
“It is simple. The only thing this crap ruined is having lunch at the diner. We just need to be careful hopping around town. Here, we’re safe.”
He levels a look that reminds me how unsafe we might be in this house.
Me and my stupid mouth.
But finally, his lips curl, though his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I should’ve been more careful.”
“Stop that. No more blaming yourself. This is what fame is, and I’m sure the kids know it. We got them out of there ASAP. Plus, you set the cameras up, so it’s not like any ballsy reporters will show up creeping around the house.”
Too optimistic, maybe.
Some people definitely could trespass for a big story or a few candid photos, but I’m hoping we’re not worth the risk.
His eyes harden.
I wish I could take back trying to make this bear of a man feel better.
“It’s complicated with the kids,” he says. “And with you. Shit.” He’s still holding my wrist like he’s forgotten he has it. “If it wasn’t for the stalker crap, we’d probably be on our way back to New York right now.”
My veins turn to ice as the reality of what he said sinks in.
The only reason he’s here is to keep me in one piece.
Not because he wants to stay, necessarily.
He’s just too worried about leaving me alone, in danger.
Oh, I should be relieved that he’s this good. But all I can feel is my hurt heart pounding and my brain going dizzy.
I’m used to being the summer girl. The temporary fling.
But holy shit, I’m not good enough for him to say it?
To tell me he stayed because he loves my company? He loves—
Oh my God, no.
He doesn’t love me, and I have no business thinking he might.
I stagger backward.
“You know what, don’t bother. If that’s how you feel, maybe we should all leave.”
His eyebrows lift.
“Margot, that’s not what I meant.” He growls, raking a hand through his hair. “I just meant—look, cutting and running would only be worse.”
Worse than hanging around out of pity?
Out of obligation?
I don’t think so.
“I can be out of your hair by tomorrow,” I say.
“No, wait.” He takes my arm, stopping me as I’m heading for the door. “I can’t keep making stupid decisions. You hear me, woman? I can’t fuck things up again.”
“Again?” I rip myself free from his hold.
So in his mind, I’m one more item on his long list of mistakes.
“Where are you running? Will you stop taking everything I say the worst way possible?” he snarls.
“I’m not running anywhere, Kane Saint,” I say, stopping at the door. “Maybe you should stop running and figure it out.”
Nothing will ever take away the peaceful nights.
It’s one of those rare fall nights where the wind sings, the trees creak with whispers, and the stars wink down from moving curtains of clouds.
Below, muffled voices float through my open window, softly bruising my heart.
Mostly the kids.
They’re talking and Dan’s drumming—just a soft patter. I’m sure he’s trying to keep it down.
Occasionally, Kane’s deep voice cuts in with encouragement and stories about the constellations crisscrossing the sky.
He knows a lot about stargazing.
I wonder if he’s had it for years or if he just looked up the myths so Sophie would have a little help from her loving dad.
That’s totally Kane.
An explosive human contradiction who can shift from tender to torrid in ten seconds flat.
Our argument stings.
He never came up to find me since I stormed out, and I’ve been sitting in my room all afternoon, only sneaking down for food after I knew they’d eaten.
Of course, he left me a plate.
Of course, this rich beef stew with thick broth served over delicious sticky rice hit the spot.
He’s murdering my low carb routine along with my better senses.
I don’t know how to feel about that.
I don’t know how to feel about anything.
I just know I’m hurt that he’s down there having a sweet evening with the kids, while I’m up here like Rapunzel in her tower because that big idiot-lunk can’t swallow his ego.
But yes, I get it.
I get wanting to flee and take the kids away from this mess.
He’s putting them first like any decent parent should.
Mom and Dad never would’ve left us in harm’s way, even if they weren’t exactly affectionate or attentive or—well, you get the point.
Ethan and I had to figure it out on our own.
Everything we had to learn about being a Blackthorn came from PopPop.