Not that it achieved much.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all. Their conversations after Carter had left were uncomfortably stilted and curt, but they were conversations nonetheless. Kat had seen it, clear as day, on her mother’s face: she knew it was her presence that had forced Carter to leave. And, whether she admitted it or not, a part of her had to feel responsible.
Kat rolled onto her back, clasping her phone tightly to her stomach. Glancing out of the window, she saw the snow was still coming down. She couldn’t help but agonize about where Carter was and whether or not he was safe. She’d called the airport, but their flight booking hadn’t been altered. She’d no idea whether he had taken another flight home, but something within Kat told her he hadn’t. She’d decided after packing her bag she would leave Nana Boo’s and catch her scheduled flight the following afternoon. Nana Boo, of course, had urged her to stay, telling her that Thanksgiving should be with her family, but truthfully, being in the house with her mother, after everything that’d happened, simply didn’t sit right with Kat. She’d texted Carter telling him where she would be, should he return to her, and left.
Family or not, she needed peace, quiet, time to think.
Just like Carter had.
Jesus, what he must have felt, hearing Kat’s mother say the things she had. Eva’s words had bulldozed every single piece of confidence and self-assurance Kat and Nana Boo had helped construct around Carter the previous day and night. She closed her eyes. God, she just wanted to tell him she loved him.
No matter if he never wanted anything to do with her again, Kat needed him to hear it.
She allowed herself a moment to release a few more tears. They were tears for Carter and the pain he was no doubt in. Tears of the anger she felt toward her mother for doing that to the man she loved; tears for Nana Boo and the awful situation she’d unwillingly become a part of, and tears for her father.
Jesus, how she missed him.
She was so sorry he wasn’t there.
She was so sorry for everything. So sorry and so tired.
Before she could think any more about the shitty mess she’d found herself in, blissful, quiet sleep overcame her.
*
There was a noise.
Nestled on the edge of Kat’s consciousness, in a place between dark and light, and reality and dreams, there was definitely a noise.
In her sleep-induced haze, Kat flung her arm out to press the alarm on the digital clock in an effort to stop the—
knock knock knock
Blinking back the sleep gluing her eyes together, Kat sat up, disoriented, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings.
Nana Boo’s favorite suite. The Drake Hotel, Chicago.
With her now-dead cell phone still clasped in her hand and her clothes warm and damp from sleep sweat, she shuffled to the edge of the bed. She flicked on the bedside lamp, drowning the room in elegant light. She listened again, frowning in frustration, wishing her brain would shake itself awake so she could focus properly.
There was nothing.
Silence.
Of course there was only silence. Why had she expected anything else?
Maybe it had been a drea—
knock knock knock
Kat lifted from the edge of the bed and made her way across the bedroom and into the large sitting room of the suite, flicking lights on as she went. Who the hell? She couldn’t remember ordering room service. Cursing herself for not noting the time, Kat dragged her feet toward the door, rubbing her face while simultaneously fixing the nest-like hair residing on her head.
knock knock knock
“Hang on a second,” Kat called sleepily. “I’m coming.”
Ignoring the peephole and muttering about the numerous locks on the door, Kat was still talking toward her feet when she finally got the thing open.
“Sorry,” she apologized, suppressing a yawn. “I was asleep. What’s the prob—”
Kat’s words died in her throat when her eyes met the tall, unexpected figure standing before her. He wasn’t even standing, in fact; he was sagging against the doorjamb with water dripping from his chin and down the sides of his tired face.
His beautiful, perfect face.
“Carter,” Kat squeaked, dazed, unsteady on her feet, and still believing she was dreaming. “Where the— What are …”
Her eyes traveled down his body in disbelief. His clothes were saturated, clinging to his strong form, and the knuckles of his hands were white from the cold. His lips were tinged a dark blue and, as she stared at him with now-wide-awake eyes, she realized he was shivering.
“Jesus, you’re freezing,” she exclaimed, coming to her senses. “Come in and—”
“No,” he rasped, shaking his head and licking the water that subsequently fell to his lips. “I can’t.”
Kat’s heart stuttered. “Why?”
He kept his eyes to the floor. He shook from head to toe and made a pained noise that came from deep within him.
“Carter, you’re going to get sick,” Kat coaxed. “Please.”