She swallows. “That sounds cold.”
“It’s not cold. It’s safe.”
“Those are starting to feel like the same thing.”
“No.”
The word comes out harder than I intend. Kara looks hurt.
I make myself lower my voice. “Cold doesn’t care how you feel. Safe cares enough not to make it worse.”
Her expression shifts, and I think maybe she understands. Maybe I do too.
I hand her my phone with the message already open and stand close enough to see if she shakes, far enough not to read every word over her shoulder unless she gives me reason.
She types slowly.
I’m safe. Security moved me as a precaution after another incident. I can’t talk details right now, but I’ll call when I can. Please don’t worry.
She stares at the message.
“Send it,” I say gently.
She does. Vanessa replies in under thirty seconds.
Another incident? What does that mean? Kara, you’re scaring me. Where are you?
Kara closes her eyes. A second message.
Please don’t shut me out. Not after everything we’ve been through.
Her hand tightens around my phone.
There it is. The hook under the ribs. I see it catch. I see Kara bleed without a mark on her.
“She’s scared,” Kara whispers.
“Maybe.”
Her eyes open. “Maybe?”
“We don’t know what she is from a text.”
“That sounds awful.”
“I know.”
“She has been there for me for years.”
“I know.”
“No, Cole. You don’t.” Her voice cracks, and this time anger comes with the fear.
“She was there when culinary school fell apart. When people thought I was making excuses. When I thought maybe I was losing my mind because things kept happening and no one could prove it. She believed me.”
I do not answer immediately. Because every word matters now in her story.
“She may have believed you because she loves you,” I say.
