Page 51 of Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

My eyes adjust to the dim light peeking through the curtains. I shift, the warmth from Kai’s hand seeping into my skin. The rise and fall of his chest tells me he’s still asleep, blissfully unaware of my internal turmoil.

I fear the pounding of my heart might wake him. But his breath is steady.

His hand slides down slightly, fingers brushing against my thigh. My breath catches in my throat.

He murmurs Japanese words and stirs. I let out a shaky breath. I wonder what this man dreams about. Kai stirs again, his body edging closer in his sleep. I close my eyes, trying to calm the storm inside.

“Videotapes are on the lowest shelf, left of the T.V.”

One of the weirdest things I’ve picked up from sleeping next to Eric is how to untangle myself from a cuddler and slip free.

My past is calling me from upstairs.

Sliding out from under his hand, I move cautiously.

I sit up on the edge of the bed and glance at Kai’s peaceful, almost boyish face. His sleeping features are miles away from the intensepersona he carries when awake. I slide off the bed and make my way to the stairs.

It’s answers o’clock.

The night is quiet, and ethereal rays of moonlight pierce through the tulle curtains of the living room. I love the peace of it.

I sit on the couch and start the old videos Corey kept for me. He filmed hours of our life, and maybe I missed something from my past years that could lead me to understand my precarious mental state.

I press “play,” and the screen comes to life. I see my thirteen-year-old self playing with Corey’s German shepherd, Kamikaze, named in tribute to Japanese anime. That was the time I was diagnosed with severe anxiety. My mother had disappeared, and my mind was all chaos.

And I cry in silence, careful not to wake anybody.

It’s sad for me to realize after more than a decade, I’m still the same person with the same fears. Eric loved how eager to please I used to be, but I regret wasting four years on him. My fear of abandonment and the angst that came with confrontation made me easier to manipulate. To mold.

What a fucking degenerate.

As I wipe my eyes and blow my nose, I hope Kamikaze would be here and help me face these painful memories. I miss sinking my fingers in his thick fur.

Lost in thought, my head snaps to the kitchen when I feel someone nearby.

But it’s not my family.

Kai is rummaging through the freezer, dressed only in boxers and a T-shirt—my surroundings: tissues scattered, puffy red eyes from crying, and a runny nose.

How the hell can I be so fuckingpathetic?

He walks toward me with a tub of cappuccino ice cream. I can’t resist and take it from him, my heart tugging at the memories of happier days. Corey always buys fancy ice cream when I come home.

I peek up at Kai and manage a small smile. “How did you know?”

“Your uncle told me.”

We sit close together, our legs touching under the blanket he put on us. Kai hands me a spoon, and we share cappuccino ice cream from the tub.

I see myself at fifteen, sitting in the garden reading a manga to Kamikaze, who lies sprawled across my thighs. The videos usually fill me with sadness from better days, but not tonight.

There’s a weight on my heart for sure, but it’s lighter than before.

“It was my mother’s birthday. And Corey’s. The first one since she left us.” I remember the banner floating in the summer air with “Happy Birthday to Celeste and Corey Ramirez” written in golden letters. “They shared their birth date, only two years apart. Corey insisted on throwing a party and putting up the banner, even though she was gone.”

Perhaps the fear of abandonment made me blind to Eric’s behavior made me stay.

“You never saw her again?” Kai asks.

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