No, he didn’t. It was inconceivable that an eight-year-old Kai would kill his mother. It hadn’t happened. Something had happened but not that. “No, you didn’t.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes at her firm statement.I will always believe the best of you, Kai, even if you don’t believe it yourself.
“It wasn’t a gun or a knife but I bought, and handed her, the instrument of her death.” Before Flick could absorb those words, he spoke again and his voice was cold and hard. And desolate. “I’m not good for you, Flick. I’m not what you want, and I’m definitely not what you need. I’m not one of your strays that can be rehabilitated or nurtured back to health.”
“Uh—”
Kai stepped off the porch and turned to look back at her. “I’m leaving Mercy for a while. When I get back, if I ever come back, this—whatever this was—will just be a distant memory.”
Flick felt the verbal slap and jerked backward. She’d expected the end but hadn’t expected it to be this brutal. This clinical.“Jesus Kai, seriously? Take a step back and let’s talk about this.”
Kai jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. We had a fling, it’s done. Be happy, Flick. You deserve it.”
You make me happy, you moron!Flick wanted to scream the words but pride and stubbornness and sheer astonishment kept those words behind her teeth.
She managed to get out another sentence. “Are you going to just walk away?”
“Quick and clean, Felicity.” He gave her a humorless smile. “It’s better this way.”
Better for whom? Not, in any galaxy or in any way, for her.
“You’re running?”
Kai looked up to see Sawyer standing in the doorway to his bedroom. Ignoring him, he lifted a pile of shirts and dumped them into his suitcase. He wasn’t even going to reply, wasn’t going to dignify that stupid statement with a response.
“I am not running, I’m leaving Mercy to go back to doing what I do best.”
“Being a grumpy, lonely, reticent asshole?”
Kai tossed him a “fuck you” look. “I stayed and ran this place while you were away. I did what you asked. Now you’re back, and it’s time for me to go.”
Kai picked up his running shoes and tossed them on top of a white dress shirt, silently cursing the new streak of dirt on the white fabric. Why was everyone overreacting to his leaving? He’d never lied, hadn’t made any promises to stay. Mercy, helping Sawyer out, his thing with Flick—all of it was a temporary gig.
“Kai, you’re being a dick,” Sawyer said, his tone conversational.
“Noted,” Kai responded through gritted teeth. He felt like his skin was too small for his body, like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, and he didn’t need Sawyer on his case. He didn’t need him to tell him why he should stay, because God knew he could be easily persuaded.
“Talk to me, Manning.”
Kai sat on the side of the bed and looked at the floor. “I can’t do this.” Kai sat on the side of the bed and looked at the floor.
“Do what?”
“The town, the friends, the staying in one place,” Kai said. “It’s not me.”
“Or maybe it is you and you’re too damn stubborn to admit it.”
“This isn’t my town, this isn’t my home.”
“You don’t have a town and you don’t have a home,” Sawyer pointed out.
“Exactly!” Kai snapped. “Small town America is not where I want to be.”
“Why not?” Sawyer folded his arms. He lifted an eyebrow. “The air is clean and it’s a fairly pretty place. You have friends here and a girl who seems to be, stupidly in my opinion, crazy about you. So, what’s the problem?”
“My work takes me all over the world,” Kai snapped back.
“Sure, but they have these amazing things called planes that can transport people over long distances in the quickest time possible.”