Kara

"How's your bullet wound doing, John Wick?"

Through my phone speaker, I heard Veronica let out a quick awkward laugh. "It was a graze, Kar. Stop worrying."

I stepped out of Cecille's gift shop, done for the day.

I'd been here since the crack of dawn. My cousin Cecille phoned me early in the morning begging for help. She had received a huge delivery of new inventory for her gift shop and was feeling overwhelmed organizing everything.

I stretched my arms up, bending this way and that, hearing my joints cracking, and proudly looked at the front display window. I designed it myself using all the new items and it was a beauty.

A thick, soft blanket adorned the arm of a beautiful, pink chair with a deep seashell cushion. The chair sat on a rug with a gorgeous pattern that reminded me of a secret garden. A side table with legs the shape of slim roses stood beside it. On top of it were strategically positioned knickknacks: a forest green cup and saucer, a Victorian style table lamp, a silver music box, a vegan leather journal with an old-fashion style pen. Hanging over all of it are fairy lights that made the overall aesthetic soft and romantic.

Cecille, looking haggard but happy, gave me a thumbs up behind the window.

"Okay, Double-Oh-Seven. You better be in tiptop shape for your next mission," I said. "My pigeon will deliver you the intel through a note tied on its leg where it will disintegrate as soon as you've received the message."

"The bird or the note?"

I fake gasped. "Why did this turn dark so fast?" I looked up. The day was gone and night had creeped in. The heavy grey in the sky looked like rain. "Seriously though, you're really okay?"

Today was the last day of the build. I wanted to be there on the last day to see the crew off.

And okay, to see Cameron.

I had a very vivid dream of him last night. When I woke up, I was very, very close to phoning him, but I curled in my bed instead, and cried myself to sleep. I missed him so fiercely my heart ached all night.

When would I see him again now that the rebuild was done? My stomach knotted at the possibility that I wouldn't.

"I'm really okay," Veronica replied. "It's just a little sore sometimes, but Caleb's been very attentive."

I believed it. After what happened to Veronica, if he could lock her in an impenetrable castle to protect her Caleb Lockhart would. Too bad she would have none of that.

"Sounds like he's been treating you right."

At the long pause on the other line, I frowned. "Ver? What's wrong? Did something happen between you and Caleb?"

When she finally spoke, her voice sounded thick with emotion. "It's amazing what these past few months have taught me. I realized that the good times you spend with someone makes you want to be with that person, but the difficult times that you go through and overcome together makes you stay together. When that person is there with you during the painful parts of your life, knowing that you have their support, their loyalty, their love makes you trust completely, makes you love deeper, makes your foundation stronger, so that when the next storm comes, your relationship will not crumble."

Her words hit me in the heart like a hammer.

"When my mom died," she said softly, "I thought I'd be alone for the rest of my life. I made myself believe that I was fine with that. I thought there would be no one out there for me. Caleb proved me wrong, didn't he?"

"You're the love of his life and he's the love of yours."

"He's mine."

It made me happy to hear her talk like this. She'd come a long way from the scared-to-love-and-be-loved girl she was before.

"Kar, I know it's too early, but I was wondering what do you think about—"

"Lookee here! Look who the cat dragged in."

I whipped around and found Dingle Dick standing in front of me. Dressed in a tank top two sizes smaller to display his gargantuan body, shorts, and a gym bag on his shoulder, I assumed he was on his way to the gym next door.

"Do I know you?"

He looked blank for a moment, then laughed loudly. "You're so funny. I know you remember me. Nice joke there! Ha ha ha."

"Hilarious, huh? I'm just the life of the party." I backed away, careful not to get another whiff of his bad breath. "Well, you have a good—"

"They said they were picking up your brother today."

The evil glee in his tone raised my hackles.

"What?"

"I can't believe you let Dylan join that private gambling club in the first place. He's been begging them for more time, begging like a doggie. But his time's up, and if he doesn't pay what he owes them today..." He cut himself off, leering at me with false concern. "I don't know how he's going to walk tomorrow, if you know what I mean."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

He laughed uproariously. "I'm just fuckin' with ya, girl. Calm down." He gave me the side-eye. "Or am I? It's not good to owe people money. You should pay your debts, don't you agree? Dylan still owes me that money from our bet that he never paid. I don't forget. I never forget."

Trying not to panic, I dismissed him and rushed to my car. My phone nearly fell from my hands as I dialled Dylan's number and realized Veronica was still on the phone.

"Ver, I have to call Dylan. I'll—"

"Kar, calm down." She must have heard everything. "Take a deep breath. Good. Do it again."

I did what she said. Her unruffled, even tone reminded me that I needed to get my bearings. It helped me focus.

"He might be lying," she said. "If he's not, I need you to calm down before you start driving. You can't help Dylan if you get into an accident."

She was right. My hands were shaking.

"Okay." I took a deep breath again, let it out slowly. "Okay."

"Kara, get help if you need it. You'll tell me if you need anything?"

"I will. I'll call you later. Thanks, Ver."

But after a few tries on Dylan's phone, he wasn't answering. I dialled my dad's number.

"Hey, Kara Koala."

"Hi, Dad," I croaked, trying my best not to sound scared and worried. "Is Dylan home yet?"

"Yeah, he's home. Why?"

Relief made me sag against the seat.

"Can you tell him to stay put until I get home? I'm on my way right now."

"Is something wrong?"

"I just need to ask him something important. Dad, please. Don't let him go anywhere. I'll be home in a few minutes. Please."

He must've recognized my desperation.

"Okay, baby. I got it."

I took a few more deep breaths to calm myself before starting my car. I barely remembered how I got home.

The door banged against the wall as I marched inside my family home, yelling Dylan's name. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad and Aunt Elisa in the living room. There were little booklets and flyers on the coffee table.

"Kara, sweetie, what is going on?"

"Oh, nothing. Dylan forgot to file something very important. Now I have more work to do. I just need to remind him to do it today, that's all. I just need to remind him. I really do. And that's really all."

"Oh." She waved her hand in the air. "Just another day in the job, darling. You got this. Okay, well, your dad and I are late for the church meeting. We couldn't leave because we had to wait for you."

"Sorry about that. Thanks for waiting. You should go," I said.

It was easier for Aunt Elisa to believe me, but my dad was looking at me knowingly. I sent him a reassuring smile. He knew something was up, but he didn't push. He rarely did. He kissed my forehead before they left. When the front door closed, I went straight to Dylan's room.

I found him crouched on the floor with his giant headphones on. Packing boxes full of his stuff littered his bedroom floor. His beloved Xbox and PlayStation in one of them.

I pulled his headphones off. "What are you doing?"

"Kara!" he sputtered. "I—" He looked around, lost. "I'm trying to sell my stuff."

"Why? Do you need money?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, but nothing came out.

Heartbroken, I asked, "Are you gambling?"

His face glazed with shock before he lost his balance and landed on his butt. He hung his head, not meeting my eyes.

"Dylan, answer me."

"K-Kara, how did you... I mean, who told—"

"I was outside Cecille's gift shop when Dingle Dick told me the people you owe money to were coming for you today."

After a moment, he said in a low voice, "They did."

"What?"

My legs felt rubbery so I sat on his bed.

Dylan took a deep breath, as though bracing himself, before he rose and sat on his desk chair facing me. Then I saw the change in his eyes. The fear and panic disappeared and slowly and completely replaced with courage.

"Kara," he started, voice shaky but determined. "I'm going to try and explain everything. Please be patient with me."

My ears started ringing. I was desperate to know everything instantly. What kind of trouble was he in this time? Can I get him out of it? What if I can't get him out of it this time around? When would he learn?

"You know I've been restoring classic trucks for a while now, but no one took me seriously and gave me a chance until Freddie. He said he'd pay me big bucks if I fix his ride."

"What does this have to do with—"

"I'm explaining it to you. Please, Kar."

I need to calm down. Being reactive or irrational isn't what he needs right now but understanding and support. But it was hard.

"Go on," I encouraged, summoning every bit of patience I had inside me.

He licked his lips nervously. "When I finished the truck, he paid me a lot of dough. I never had that much money before."

I remembered earlier this year when Dylan worked on restoring a classic truck. He'd been obsessed with it. When he was finished and got paid, I expected Dylan would blow the money on gadgets that he liked, but he'd given it all to Dad to invest back to our shop. I remembered how shocked I was, and how proud of him. That must've been this Freddie's truck.

"He said he's got another one for me to work on, and some of his friends' too, so I'd have all this dough that's about to come in, right? And he asked why not join his private poker club to earn more.

"That was the time when the shop was struggling. Dad had that heart attack and couldn't work full-time yet, and Kara, you were working to the bone trying to keep everything together. You were just so... sad. And I couldn't do anything to help you. I was just... useless. All I could think about was this was my chance to help. This money will keep the shop open. You and Dad won't have to worry anymore if we had this money.

"I went a few times. I won in the beginning, until I didn't. I started to lose a lot. And I swear I stopped when I realized I couldn't pay them anymore if I kept playing! But it didn't scare me because I still had Freddie's other truck to work on, and maybe another of his friend's. Once I'm done those, we'd be square. But everything fell through." His voice cracked. "He hired someone else. And that's when... that's when... I realized I couldn't pay them.

"I tried to find a way to earn money. All I needed was another truck, another client or two, then I could start paying it off. But—"

I closed my eyes for a second, pressed my fingertips there to relieve the pressure pounding against my skull.

"But everything's okay now, Kar!" he rushed to say, his words tripping over each other, panicking again when he saw the dismay on my face. He got up and sat beside me. "Kar, you don't need to worry—"

"What the fuck is that on your face?" I gripped both sides of his head with my hands so he couldn't hide his face from me. He had a bruise on his cheek, red and swollen. "Did they hurt you?"

The determination was back in his eyes. "Kar, calm down. One of them slapped me, threatened me, but that's it. They're not going to hurt me anymore. They're too scared of Cameron—" Dylan's loud gasp came out of his throat. Eyes wide with horror, he slapped his mouth with both hands to stop himself from talking, but it was too late.

Slowly I rose. "Cameron?" I asked quietly.

With his hands still covering his mouth, Dylan shook his head.

My eye twitched. "Tell. Me. Everything."

"I promised him I won't tell you! He doesn't want you to know. Why do I do this!"

"Know what?" When he didn't answer, I glared at him, nostrils flaring.

"He paid them off," he whimpered. "Cameron paid all my debts."

"How much?"

He swallowed nervously, kept wringing his hands. He shook his head again.

"How. Much. Dylan." I bit out.

"T-two. Two thousand dollars."

"Two thousand? Two thousand dollars!"

He lowered his head. He was hiding something else, or was it just my imagination? I could always tell when Dylan was lying. If he was, it was the best act of his life because I couldn't tell.

"Yeah. Two thousand dollars. That's right." He nodded his head up and down. "That's how much Cameron paid them. Two thousand."

I wasn't aware my whole body was braced for a life ruination news until I breathed a sigh of relief and nearly collapsed. Two thousand dollars was a lot of money, but not as much as I feared he owed. I had feared the worst, five to six figures.

"You're going to pay back Cameron every penny."

"Yes, of course I will!" he exclaimed.

"This could have ruined our family, Dylan. Gambling is dangerous. What if you'd become addicted to it? If you owed them a lot more than that, where would we get the money to pay them off? We would have to sell our shop. Imagine what that would do to Dad."

Suddenly he grew quiet. He crossed his arms around his stomach, hugging himself, and tucked his chin on his chest.

"Two thousand dollars is still a lot of money, but I'm glad you had the control to stop yourself from spending more" —his head turned away from me, looking ashamed— "but, Dyl, I wish you had the discernment not to do it in the first place. You could've been hurt much worse. And what if Cameron got hurt too?"

"I'm so sorry, Kara." His voice cracked. "I made a mistake. I always make them, and it's not something that can always be fixed easily. It always blows up in my face, and it would've been so much better if I'm the only one affected, but that's not the case. The people closest to me get hurt too, and that's the main reason why I want to change.

"After the accident, I thought I was changing, growing up, but it's not enough. I need to take this seriously. I don't want to see you and Dad get hurt because of me. I don't want to see anyone close to me pay for my mistakes."

"Dyl..."

"This won't happen again. I promise. Don't get mad at me too much, Kar."

"I won't," I said. "Where is he? Where is Cameron now?"

"Kar, please. Can you take it easy on him? He didn't know anything about it until today. If he didn't come get me, I don't know... Those people weren't kidding around. I think they would have... they would have hurt me. They even threatened me with you. That set off Cameron. I thought he was going to kill one of them. The one who mentioned you."

He started crying. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and at that point of contact, Dylan broke down and wrapped his arms around my waist, sobbing, shoulders shaking in misery and relief.

"I was so scared, Kar. I thought that... that they would..."

"Shh. It's okay now. You're okay. That must've been hard for you to go through. But you're fine now. You're okay, Dylan," I repeated, rubbing his back.

Dylan was already dealing with the trauma he obtained from our accident when he drove Cameron's truck. What could this additional trauma add to his life suffering? What else could I do to help him not make mistakes that could ruin his life?

I knew I'd been overprotective of him, sheltered him too much, but maybe it was time to let go a little more than I already have. But how do I do that? It would be hard, but I'd find a way. I had to.

If it weren't for Cameron, who knows what could have happened to my brother? At the thought of Cameron, a fire suddenly surged inside me, blinding hot in my chest.

"Kar, I promise I'm going to change my life. I don't want to be the same person. I want to face the monster head-on. I'm not going to run away anymore. Cameron said so. And he was right." He sobbed, wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Can I show you something outside?"

With my chest tight and discombobulated thoughts, I forced myself to move and follow him on the porch.

"I know it's dark now," Dylan said, looking around him. "But do you see?"

"See what?"

My mind was elsewhere, struggling to make sense of everything that happened between me and Cameron. From the beginning since we met, everything in between, and where we were now.

Who is he in my life? Who do I want him to be?

A friend? Impossible. I couldn't just be friends with him. I couldn't watch him be with someone else. And I was sure he felt the same way.

A lover? He had been. And what about now?

Do I want him to be my future? I did once. But what about now?

Who am I in his life? Who do I want to be in his life?

"Dad said he didn't even ask Cam to do this," Dylan went on excitedly. "Cam just did it by himself after the crew left. He said he saw you fall on your face a few days ago. He brought some materials and finished it today."

"What?"

"Focus, Kar. Look at the stairs and the railing in front of you. It's all new. Cameron fixed it." His eyes danced. "It's kind of like before, you know, before you guys broke up and were still together and he'd always do things for you, take care of you and everything. I even thought for a moment that you guys were back together and were just keeping it a secret, but I can see that he's still having a hard time—"

"Where is he?" I choked out.

My breathing picked up as I looked at the sturdy steel railing, the glossy new wood steps.

Dylan chewed on his lip. "After he dropped me off, he was going to get the money and drive back to Freddie's. Then he said— Ow, Kar!"

"He went back to them?"

Fear blinded me to everything so that I wasn't aware how hard I was gripping Dylan's arm until he shouted and pulled his arm away.

"Calm down. He's fine! I mean he should be... right? He said he's just going to drop off the money then go back to his cabin. I told him to text me when he gets home."

I was already dialing Cameron's number before Dylan finished his sentence. It went straight to voicemail.

"Check your phone," I said, trembling now. "Did he text you?"

Dylan shook his head no.

"I need to go."

"No, Kar. There's a storm coming. Can't you see the sky? It's getting windy now too. You don't even have a coat. Stay here. I'll keep calling Cameron—"

"Get inside and don't tell Dad about this, you hear, Dylan?"

I didn't wait for his reply and ran to my car. Heart pounding, I turned the ignition on and stepped on the gas. The fire in my chest spread to my limbs now, slowly at first, then rushing, screaming at me to unleash it.

Are you worried about me? That's nice.

Cameron's voice rang in my head.

I was going to chop his fingers off for worrying me this much.

Cameron, please be okay.

***