Page 40 of Since the Day We Kissed

“I’m terrified, Em.” Kara’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “What if Charlotte hates me for keeping the truth from her? What if Ethan ...” She trailed off, her stomach tightening at the thought of seeing the hurt—or worse, the anger—in Ethan’s eyes when he found out.

Emma reached across the table and squeezed Kara’s hand. “Hey, you’ve faced tough situations before. Remember when you had to testify against that puppy mill last year?”

Kara nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. “It wasn’t easy.”

“And you crushed it, Kara. Granted, this is a whole different ball game, I know, but you’ve got this too.”

A gust of wind swept through, catching the edges of Kara’s styrofoam box. It wobbled, lifting off the table. She quickly placed her hand on top, the sudden motion making her heart skip for a second.

“But when’s the right time? How do I even begin?

“There’s never going to be a perfect moment for something like this. But Ethan being here? That might be the opening you need. Remember, you don’t have to solve everything in one go.”

Kara exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. Her gaze drifted back to the rescue, reminding her of all she had built here—and all she had yet to confront. “You’re right, as usual. I just need to take that first step.”

“And you will, Kara.” Emma reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. “And don’t worry about when or how. When the time’s right, you’ll know.”

“Yeah,” said Kara, not too convinced, eyes dragging back down to her sandwich—but still, she didn’t touch it.

Emma squeezed her hand. “Kara, look at me.”

Kara sighed but did as her friend requested.

“You’re not alone in this either. I’ll be right here when you need me. Okay?”

14

Ethan

Thescentsofproduceand freshly baked bread greeted him as Ethan pushed through the glass door and mentally ticked off items: something to make for a few meals and a few more cans of dog food for Hero. He grabbed a cart and started down the first aisle. Plucking a crisp head of lettuce and a bag of bright orange carrots from the display, his mind wandered back to the animal rescue and the eventful day he’d spent there.

Despite her attempts to hide it, he couldn’t help but notice how much she was struggling. After all, the rescue was chronically understaffed by her own admission. He felt a twinge of concern for Kara and the animals in her care.

What can I do to help?

At the rescue he’d worked at in Virginia, they had thrown regular adoption events and fundraisers that had always gone over well. Second Chance had hosted a big event just yesterday, yet the kennels were still full, so it seemed like they needed more than just occasional events to keep up with the influx of animals. Perhaps a more consistent volunteer base could be the start of turning things around? Lost in thought, Ethan absently navigated the grocery aisles ...

Wheeling his cart around the corner, a wry smile tugged at his lips as he realized the familiar arrangement of shelves and products had remained unchanged since he had last visited over twenty years ago. He passed by the rows of condiments and jars of pickles. Stopping at the pasta sauce, he grabbed a jar and picked up a box of rigatoni, then headed to the next aisle. Then he scanned the shelves for dog food and handpicked several cans, stacking them in his arms.

While juggling the cans and steering his cart, Ethan rounded the corner and froze, nearly dropping the dog food. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto an all-too-familiar face. A cold sweat prickled Ethan’s skin as his heart hammered against his ribs.

That’s when Whitaker Walker’s eyes narrowed in recognition.

With trembling hands, Ethan spun his cart around and beelined for the nearest checkout, where he haphazardly scooped items from his cart and dumped them onto the conveyor belt. He fumbled for a few bills to pay the cashier. “Keep the change.”

“Need a hand with those bags, sir?” the cashier asked.

Ethan shook his head and grabbed the bags, hurrying out of the store as quickly as he could without running, not daring to look back to see if Whitaker was watching him. He tossed the bagged groceries onto the passenger seat, struggled to find his keys before cranking the engine to life, and reversed out of the spot with a screech from the tires.

At a red light, Ethan briefly closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, remembering the calming techniques Dr. Hartman had taught him.

“Four ... seven ... eight ...” Ethan mumbled under his breath.

Even as he counted, his heart drummed in his chest, refusing to settle. When the light turned green, he forced his foot back on the gas, determined to focus on his breathing. He inhaled deeply through his nose for a count of four ... held it for seven ... then exhaled slowly through his mouth for eight, repeating this pattern at every stop.

By the time he made the last turn into the driveway of his dad’s house, Ethan’s breathing had steadied, though his hands still gave way to a slight tremble.

He put the truck in park, sat for a moment, and continued the exercise.

---