Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

He was doing it again. He was pushing me away.

“Are you going to tell me to leave again?” I demanded.

He looked at me without saying anything. But it was clear in his eyes.

Yes. I’m telling you to leave again.

I thought that we’d progressed somehow after our conversation. Progressed in this…relationship, whatever the hell it was, but it was turning out that nothing changed.

“You’re a piece of fucking work!” I yelled at him.

“Go home, Kara.”

“You know what? I will!”

Because if I didn’t, I had a feeling I’d punch him eventually. He was so stubborn. I slid in my car, realized that the engine was still running.

Damn it. My gas.

Adding that to his list. I’m making a fresh list.

I stepped on it. I could see him bathed in the light of my car’s taillights. An angel pushed out from heaven, trying to find his way back. So lonely. Solitary. Refusing everyone’s love. His eyes showed how needy he was, but that was where it ended. He wouldn’t speak it.

I let out a sigh, stepped on my brakes.

I’m done. It’s either now or never.

I reversed my car. I saw him startle, his eyes widening as he jumped back. Some memory in my brain told me that looked familiar, as if I’d seen him do that before.

I reversed too far before I hit the brakes, but I was in a hurry. I swung the car door open, jumped out of it, and walked to him. Faster, faster until I was running.

His eyes were on me. So focused on me. As if I were the only one who existed in his world.

I heard his sharp intake of breath as I wrapped my hands around the collar of his shirt, pulled him down to me. And I kissed him.

I kissed him because he was lonely, and I wanted to remove the sadness in his eyes.

I kissed him because I had to. I wanted to.

I kissed him because… Goddammit. I’m falling in love with him.

I didn’t wait for his reaction. I jumped back in my car, stepped on the gas.

Damn, I thought. I’m happy.

* * *

There seemed to be a permanent smile on my face as I drove home, as I walked to where my dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

It was late, but I knew he was waiting for me. He was probably worried because I’d stomped out in anger earlier. He looked sleepy and tired, but I knew he wanted to talk to me and check if everything was okay. His eyes, the same color as mine, studied me as I sat beside him.

He muted the TV, just as he normally would when there was something we needed to talk about.

I was smiling like a loon. We looked at each other. Five seconds, ten, fifteen. And then he smiled too.

“All good?” he asked.

“All good, Dad.”