Chapter 30
I watch Asher walk the entire distance to his car, and when he turns to see me in the same spot he left me, I’m glad I stayed.
He waves across the lot, and I commit the scene to memory for a new time capsule.
Filed away for safekeeping. But now, I file it away with everything Ro.
Because even in Ro’s absence, he’s been with me all night.
The memory of his phantom truck, the exact details of his smile, the tone of his voice when—wait.
His voice.
“Kaia?” he says again, more forcefully this time.
This isn’t phantom. When I turn to follow the sound, he’s there. Here. In the flesh.
And he is…snarling.
“Hey,” I say, and even the single syllable feels like a lie. “I thought you were with your parents.”
I scan the parking lot in search of them, and as an excuse to break contact with the daggers shooting from Ro’s narrowed eyes.
I’m still looking anywhere but at him, when he laughs. At least that’s what I’m choosing to call it, though it’s never sounded this sharp before.
“Oh, nice,” he says. “So, you did get my texts.”
“Shit,” I say, realizing I’ve caught myself up. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been—”
He doesn’t give me a chance to finish the thought, which is fine, since I don’t know what I would’ve said.
“Busy,” he says, nodding toward the empty spot where Asher’s car was moments ago. “Yeah, I see that. Who was that guy?”
“Ro,” I say, braving his eyes again.
This time in addition to his rage, I see hurt when he repeats himself. More slowly, like maybe I’d missed it. “Who was that, Kaia?”
I shrug, because what else can I do? “He’s a friend. A friend of Zola’s, really. That was the last date I agreed to. Forever ago.”
Even to me, the excuse sounds weak, but I hadn’t expected it to also be funny.
Ro pivots, so he’s briefly facing away from me. In one hand, he holds a take-out bag similar to the one I’m carrying. He brings his free hand to his mouth in a fist, stifling his maniacal laughter before his palm squeezes the back of his neck. He releases it and turns back to me once more.
“Fuck,” he says, smiling in a way that makes me want to throw up a little. And cry a lot.
“Ro, it was a hug.”
“Kaia, it was a date. You weren’t answering my texts because you were on a date.”
When he says it like that, so simply, my eyes burn.
“I should’ve been the one you called,” he continues. “I should’ve been the one sitting across the table tonight.”
“Stop,” I say, shaking my head, because if he doesn’t, I’m going to break.
“Stop what? We can’t talk about the fact that you only wanna see me by accident?”
“Ro—”
“I don’t wanna find you on the side of the road anymore.
Or save you from some shit guy who shouldn’t have gotten a chance with you in the first place.
I don’t wanna run into you on a fucking sidewalk, while your leftovers gets cold,” he says, and the words knock me back.
“Let me take you out. A real date, where we both know why we’re there. You and me. On purpose.”
He’s looking at me like he expects something from me. Like he wants something from me, needs it even.
It makes me want to run.
So that’s what I do—emotionally speaking.
“What are you even doing here?” I say, like that’s what matters after everything Ro’s just told me.
“What am I doing here?” he parrots, and for the first time ever I wish he’d stop smiling. “What a great question, Kai. What am I doing here? Why am I standing here with a bag of food for you thinking you and Zo might be hungry, while you’re out here on a date. That’s a great fucking question.”
He’s not yelling when he says it, but that almost makes it worse.
“Can you stop? I get it, you’re mad I went out with him. But you’ve known the whole time that I was doing this for Zola. I agreed to these dates before we even met! And it’s not like this”—I wave my hands between us—“is even a thing. You’ve hardly talked to me in weeks.”
“I’ve been chasing you around like an idiot since the day we met.
Trying to figure out what you wanted, how slow you needed me to go.
I stopped for a few days, to see if you’d come to me for once.
Which you didn’t, by the way. But I’m still here tonight, because I can’t stay away from you. Even when I try, I can’t.”
I am so not in the right headspace for a grand fucking gesture right now.
“Ro, I can’t do this.”
“Well, maybe if you’d ever just let go instead of trying to predict every worst-case scenario, you’d have time to do this. Or at least to return a fucking text.”
And apparently there’s more he needs to get off his chest.
“God, you’re so scared.”
My body recoils like he’s hit me.
“I thought you put up all these walls to keep the bad guys out, but that’s not it, is it? You build ’em to lock yourself in. So you don’t even have to try. You’d rather be right and alone than admit you don’t have all the answers.”
I take a step forward on unsteady feet, shaky from the verbal assault I’m withstanding, but my next steps are surer. Into the parking lot, and away from Ro.
“You know what your problem is?” he says, like he’s finally solved the riddle.
“Oh, there’s more?” I say, walking away from him still. “Don’t stop on my account. Tell me exactly who I am and everything that’s wrong with me.”
“Careful, Kai, you might mess around and trip into your first ever honest conversation.”
“Well,” I say, turning to face him, finally. “Let’s get into it.”
He shakes his head, like he’s trying to decide if it’s even worth his time.
“You’re not doing any of this for Zola.”
His tone is too calm again. And I hate myself for the way I lean into the sound of his voice.
“It never had to be you. And it sure as fuck didn’t have to be you tonight.
You spend all your time talking about what you don’t want, but you’ll do almost anything to avoid having to decide what you do.
Because as long as you’re wrapped up in whatever this is”—he gestures between the restaurant and Asher’s long-abandoned parking spot—“you don’t have to deal with anything real.
Make any decisions about your own life. Nah, this way it happens to you.
Right? And since you didn’t choose any of it, when it all goes to shit, you get to say, it’s somebody else’s fault.
That you’re living a life you hate, because Zola needed you.
Or your mom. Or shit, this might even be my fault now. ”
“Fuck you,” I say, practically spitting the word in his face. “I chose to be here with Asher tonight, didn’t I? I chose that.”
I hate myself for saying it and I expect Ro to hate me too. I expect him to leave.
“Ah. Asher.” He says the name like it’s a punch line. “From my bed to the next guy. Sounds familiar. And all this time you had me convinced your dad was the bad guy.”
I rush past his words like being compared to my mom hasn’t stolen the air from my lungs. “Nobody’s forcing you to be here. If I’m so pathetic, then go.”
“You’re not pathetic.” For the first time since he got here, Ro touches me. Grabbing my wrist and spinning me around to face him. “You’re terrified.”
My hands on his chest stop the movement, but it’s not until I release my hold on him, so I no longer feel his heart raging under my palms, that my world stops spinning.
“I get it,” he continues. “I understand feeling stuck. Fucking frozen, like whichever step you take next will be the one that hurls you off the cliff. You think I knew it was the right decision to come back here? Working at the fucking garage and watching my dad fade away a day at a time? That shit kills me, Kaia. I’ll never know what my life would have been like if I’d decided to stay gone.
But making the half-assed decision to come home is the only reason I met you. ”
I take a shaky step back. If he wanted to, Ro could close the space between us in an instant. He could force his way in, he could stop me.
But his voice is sad and he doesn’t come any closer when he says, “If you’re so broken, Kai, then why does it feel like you’re putting me back together?”
And I understand why Ro didn’t cross the physical line between us—he didn’t need to touch me to reach me.
I need space to think—to breathe—but each step I take farther from Ro is like sloughing through quicksand.
“I wish you’d let yourself try.” He’s practically pleading. “I wish you’d let yourself choose. A job, a life. At least figure out how to choose yourself.”
He pauses for so long that when I reach Mom’s car, I turn to see if he’s gone. He’s not. He’s there—real and solid and unwavering as ever. He digs his wallet out of his back pocket and walks to me, holding out a folded paper. My shaky hands reach for it instinctively.
“Or choose me,” he says. “I wish you’d choose me.”
His voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it. So I hold his words gently, in case they’re the last I ever hear him say.
But he’s right that I’m a coward, because I still can’t meet his eyes when I say, “I don’t wanna do this.”
Yet I know he’s looking right at me when he tells me, “I know.”
My insides are screaming out for Ro, as I drive away. I can’t tear my eyes from his reflection in the rearview, and he doesn’t turn his back on me as I go either. Not once.
And it’s the quiet realization that he never has that chokes me until I’m barely breathing.
—
My hands tremble violently as I pull onto the nearest side street, unfolding Ro’s note that’s so worn, it’s nearly torn along its creases.
When his narrow scrawl comes into focus, my hand is at my lips.
Covering a gasp as my heart thunders in my chest. Because this isn’t just a note. It’s everything.
Describe your perfect date: We already had it.
Being in the city with Kaia was perfect.
Bringing her into my world made it new again.
But it wasn’t the show. It’s never just the big stuff with her.
It’s the nothing moments in between. The way she mouths the words on highway signs.
Knowing she’s always going to burn her mouth on that first bite, because she’s too impatient to let a slice cool down.
The way her hand twitches when she wants to reach out for mine, even if she won’t let herself.
I want a partner who _____: tells you what she thinks, even when it’s not what you want to hear.
Someone who isn’t trying to be what other people want or expect.
She’s unapologetically herself. I want a partner who will call me on my shit.
Someone who sings along to old-school music, orders pepperoni on her pizza only to pick it off, spills her guts when she’s tipsy.
Someone who can have a good time anywhere, even stuck in two hours of traffic.
Someone who considers murder documentaries educational programming.
A fiercely loyal daughter, sister, and friend.
And someone who pretends to like nasty-ass oysters just to make me look bad.
I don’t want a partner who _____: isn’t kaia harper