A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(173)

“Kat?”

Kat spun around, almost collapsing in on herself when she saw her grandmother’s soft, concerned face. “Nana, where is he?”

She shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I thought he was in your room.”

“No. He isn’t there.” Kat gasped. “He promised me, Nana.”

Kat grappled for her cell phone from her pocket and burst out of the kitchen toward the front door.

“Please pick up,” she whimpered before the voice mail kicked in.

Her panic reached epic proportions when she threw open the front door to find only more cold stillness. Her breath erupted from her mouth in large gray plumes against the frigid air, while her gaze desperately sought Carter’s tall, broad form against the white.

Yet, looking through eyes releasing frightened, angry tears, all Kat could see was a single set of large footprints leading down the driveway, away from the house.

Away from her.

*

The screen of Kat’s cell phone lit the entire room as she pressed redial once again.

Voice mail.

She blinked heavy lids over weary, wet eyes.

She’d heard nothing from Carter for twelve hours. Not a text message and no phone call. Silence.

Her head throbbed, her heart was shattered, and her body was exhausted with worry. Every part of her body ached. The hollowness was paradoxically overwhelming.

Still, after many tears cried and hundreds of steps paced, she knew she didn’t blame Carter for any of it. How could she? She couldn’t blame him for finding a way out, an escape route. It had taken six hours, repeated hysterical calls, and numerous texts to him for her to recognize that. But she had.

[page]Carter may have come across as impenetrable, unemotional, and indifferent, but Kat knew he was anything but. He was hopelessly open and fragile.

If anything, Kat was at fault for placing him in a situation in which he was clearly uncomfortable. She should have listened to her instincts and read the anxiety in Carter’s eyes. She’d wanted to show him he was enough, prove to herself that she could help him, that she was strong enough to support him.

She had been so selfish.

Yes, he had promised, Nana Boo said when Kat had laid her head in her lap. Yes, she had trusted him to mean it, but the truth was he hadn’t. He’d said it because she’d made him. He knew she’d needed it, and he’d given it to her. She wouldn’t have spoken to her mother if he hadn’t, and, in many ways, Kat was glad she had.

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.