Page 63 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

“I don’t take orders from you, Cash.”

“Yeah? That’s not how it went last night.” I’d ordered her to come and she’d done it on my command.

Her lip curled. “You’re an asshole.”

“Maybe. But I’m not the one turning away from their family without giving them a fighting chance. They deserve an explanation. If you leave like this, if you just don’t come back, it will crush them. Grandma. Gemma. Mom. My mother loves you like her own.”

“But I’m not her own!” Katherine’s shout made me flinch. “She’s not my mother. And do you know how painful it is to wish so badly it were true? To wish I could claim her?”

“No.” I threw my arms in the air. “Because you don’t talk to me. I’ve learned more about your past on this trip than I have in twelve years. Why?”

“I don’t like to talk about my childhood.”

“Even with me?” I pointed to my chest.

“Especially with you.”

Fuck. Her words slashed me to the core. If she didn’t trust me with her past, there was no way she’d trust me with the future.

“If you want to stay, then stay.” I turned from her and strode for the door. I’d take a page from her playbook this morning and hit the beach to think. Get some air. Then I was finding an airport and getting the hell back to Montana where I belonged.

My hand gripped the door’s handle just as a pair of dainty fingers touched my elbow.

“It’s dirty,” she whispered to my back. “It’s grimy. And I hate the idea that you, of all people, might see me differently.”

I turned and stared down at Kat. Her gaze was on the floor so I hooked my finger under her chin and tipped it up until I got those blue eyes. “No matter what you say, no matter where you came from, you’ll always be my Kat.”

Her eyes turned glassy.

The sight of unshed tears, the struggle in her eyes was nearly too much to take. I wrapped my arms around her. “Talk to me. Please. I want to understand.”

“It hurts.”

“Because you’re keeping it all inside. This isn’t a burden you have to carry alone.” I didn’t care that I already knew the truth. I just wanted her to confide in me. To trust me.

And maybe once she did, I’d tell her my secret. We’d rip the past wide open so that we actually had a chance to start fresh.

Katherine nodded against my chest, then stepped free, retreating to the bed. She plopped on the end, her short legs dangling above the carpet.

I sat by her side, taking her hand in mine and lacing our fingers together.

“My mother was tall,” she said. “When I was a little girl, I used to look up at her and wonder if I’d be tall too. I was tiny, always the short kid in school. They’d put me in the front row in every class photo because the other kids stood head and shoulders above me. I hated it. I just wanted to be tall.”

“Like your mom.” When I was a kid, I’d wanted to be strong like my dad.

“No, not like my mom. I didn’t want to be like my mom. I just wanted to be tall.”

Kat sat motionless, unblinking as she stared at the floor. The air conditioner kicked on, but it did nothing to suppress the thick air.

“The tall kids didn’t get picked on,” Kat said finally. “Their mothers didn’t call them Runt. I was five when I learned that my name was Katherine. Five. She had to enroll me in school and when she told the secretary my full name, I remember thinking, Who is Katherine Gates? Until then, I’d always thought my name was Runt. That’s what she called me. That’s how she introduced me to others.”

“What the fuck?” I stared down at her, my mouth hanging open. “She didn’t call you by your name?”

Kat shook her head. “No.”

“Had she meant it like . . . an endearment?”

“No.”