Page 58 of My Heart to Find

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Damien

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!

I was supposed to break up with Jana—but how could I? When she was upset? I’m not a heartless guy—I couldn’t do that to her.

I groan as I sit down. My cup of tea’s in front of me and I watch the steam billowing upward, but I suddenly don’t want to drink it. I mean, it’s late anyway. I should be going to bed. I just feel...bad. Like I’m stringing Jana along now. Oh, God. But that is what I’m doing—isn’t it? Because I am interested in Cara. It’s always been Cara.

But what if sheistoo different now? What if you’d be better with Jana now?

No. I can’t think like that. I can’t give up on Cara just because she’s ill. I won’t do that.

I stare at broken blinds above the kitchen window. The cord’s all tangled together and the slats of the blinds are a mangled mess. I wonder how long it’s been like that and why Cody’s not fixed or replaced it. Does he never close the blinds in the kitchen?

The screen of my phone flashes. A text. Cara? Jana?

But it’s neither of them—Jana’s not texted since earlier, and Cara’s not texted at all. Instead, the text is from Luke. A checking-in text. That’s all. Huh. I bet Mum’s put him up to it.

I’ll reply later, tomorrow or something, when my stomach isn’t churning over and over. When I’ve sorted out the mess that is my love life... But I don’t even know how to break up with Jana—she’s so lovely. It’s not like when I broke up with my ex. I didn’t like her by that point. I almost didn’t mind that it would upset her. But I don’t want to hurt Jana. I do like her—but only as a friend.

“Why is this such a mess?” I mutter.

“Because life is a mess.”

Cody’s voice makes me jump, and I spin in my chair to find him standing in the doorway.

“Man, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know you’re having some sort of mid-life crisis.”

“Mid-life? I’mtwenty-six.”

“Then get a grip of yourself,” he says, all nonchalant, before he saunters away.

Wow. That guy’s weird.

*

“MAYBE I AM HAVING Aquarter-life crisis,” I tell Rufus as we walk along the woodland path the next day, the one Marnie took for that last walk, but of course Rufus is just a dog who doesn’t actually care about anything I’m saying. All he probably cares about is whether Mrs. East has another roast dinner waiting for him when we get back. “It’s all just such a mess, boy, you know?”

The path gets a little muddier and I slow my pace, trying to pick my way through it carefully. It rained a fair bit earlier and I should’ve put wellies on. It’s not that I don’t mind getting my trainers muddy, it’s just that there are holes in them. And I hate getting mud on the insides of shoes. Makes them so hard to clean.

I extend Rufus’s leash a little, giving him more slack. Not that he seems to want it. He’s the least energetic of the dogs in my schedule. I’ve now got three other clients now, all of which contacted me this morning—two of which requested a group walk to socialize their puppies. But four dog-walking clients in total isn’t enough.

“Guess it’s not just my love life that’s in tatters,” I mutter, and of course thinking about my shoes makes me think of that ridiculous boring fact I produced at the retreat—and Cara.

Cara.

“She’s going to think I’m not interested,” I say to Rufus who, for the first time on this walk, shows the slightest bit of interest in something—rabbit droppings at the side of the path. “She’s going to—"

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