Page 41 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

“Karson, you did not ruin her life.”

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t believe me.

“Karson. That’s not on you.”

Again, silence. No matter what I said, he didn’t see it. Why? How? There was no way he should carry all of this on his shoulders. “You really think you ruined her life.”

He looked up and the raw honesty in his eyes broke my heart. “I think we ruined each other. I think there are toxic people in this world and maybe I’m one of them.”

“You’re not,” I insisted, clenching my jaw so I wouldn’t scream. “You’re not toxic.”

“I was for her. And maybe others.”

He didn’t mean me, did he? He couldn’t. No way. Karson was the foundation to our lives here. He’d been there for all of us.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.

He shrugged. “Nothing to say.”

“I’m sorry.” Yes, Craig had been a nightmare, but our parents had loved us. That was the one thing Aria and I had always held tight to. Our parents had loved us.

It set us apart from the others in the junkyard.

No matter how many times I saw it, how many of my friends had gone through it, I still couldn’t understand how a mother or father couldn’t love their children.

“She’s wrong.” I twisted my hand and threaded my fingers through Karson’s. “You have to know that. She’s so wrong. You’re amazing. You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.”

He stared at our fingers but didn’t reply.

“Karson.”

No response.

He didn’t believe me. I could sit here and scream it into his face, but he was not hearing my words. Whatever that bitch of a mother had done to him had slashed deep. He covered it up with that dreamy smile and easy charm, but there were wounds hidden beneath.

“Why did she go to the cops?” I asked. “Why would she bring them to the car wash?”

“Desperation? Before I ran away, I stole a bunch of jewelry from her. I pawned it ages ago, but maybe she thinks I still have it. That she can blackmail me into coming home. Who knows? She’s crazy, remember?”

“It’s not like they can do anything to you. They can’t prove you pawned it, though, can they?”

“Maybe. That was a long time ago but . . . they’ll believe her over me,” he muttered. “They’ll want to know where I’m living and search my things.”

“Can they do that?”

“They’re the cops.”

And if they came here, we were in trouble. “Lou wouldn’t let them in.”

“He won’t have a choice.”

“Why would she think that getting the cops involved would make you go home? Or talk to her?”

He circled a finger around his temple. “You’re thinking rationally now. Nothing she does is rational. But she can cry on cue. She’ll give you these eyes that make you feel bad for her. It’s all a trap. She needs money and at first, she must have thought she could guilt me into being her meal ticket. Now she’s going for blackmail.”

And she seemed determined. His mother would come here eventually. Of that, I had no doubt. She’d find a way to torment him until . . .