Read Online Miles From Kara by Melissa West - Free Book Online Page A

something. To us. But there isn’t an us any longer, is there?” I swallowed to keep my emotions from creeping back up.
    He sighed heavily on the other end, and I knew Olivia was right. “I don’t know what to say. I think maybe we’ve been growing apart for a long time. I just . . . I don’t know what my life will look like without you in it.”
    Fresh tears collected in my eyes. “I know. But I think it’s time. We’ve worn out whatever expiration date we had and now it just feels . . . off. Like we’re trying to make ourselves the way we used to be, but that couple no longer exists.”
    â€œSo . . . you think we should break up?” Ethan asked. “Is that really what you want?”
    I hesitated. “I think it’s what you want, too.” When he didn’t say anything, I knew I was right.
    â€œI don’t want to break up. But I think we need to.”
    My bottom lip began to shake. “I think so, too.”
    â€œKar . . .”
    I shook my head, though he couldn’t see me. “It’s okay. It’s for the best. We’ve been trying to make this work, but maybe it was never meant to. Look, I just want you to know that you have meant the world to me. I don’t know how I . . . well, just, thank you.”
    â€œI will always love you, Kara. Always.”
    I sniffled. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Take care of yourself abroad. It’s a good opportunity for you.”
    â€œYeah. You, too.”
    I waited, listening to his breath one more time, before saying a quick bye and hanging up.
    I slipped under my covers and cried into my pillow. Who knew realizing you didn’t love someone could break your heart in half?

Chapter Nine
    I walked slowly through the Market the next day, my mind muddled, my heart still aching, but it was a new sort of pain. It was the pain of uncertainty. I had been with Ethan for so long that I no longer knew how to be just a girl, instead of a girl with a boyfriend.
    Ethan and I had ended the call and immediately I wanted to dial Colt, like he was the person who would understand the most, the person who could make me feel better. But calling Colt in that moment would have been a mistake. So instead, I made myself a promise: I would go to the Market, my favorite place in Charleston, and walk and think and sulk and likely buy some fun things—because I was heartbroken, not dead—and then when I was done wallowing in my misery, I’d call Colt. I didn’t want to call him when my heart was a fresh wound needing healing. I wanted to call him when I knew the call had no ulterior motives, no hope of anything other than a simple chat with a guy who made me smile without even trying to.
    Colt.
    I smiled as I stopped at one of my favorite handmade candlemakers’ booths, a fresh assortment of colorful candles set out, ready to be purchased. I ran my fingers over the smooth exteriors, reading the tiny tags attached to them, promises of wealth and success, joy and spirituality, peace and clarity, and on and on. My fingertips paused at a candle labeled
Happiness and Love
. I lifted the bright candle and read: guaranteed to bring happiness and eternal love into your life. I thought of Colt, the way he made me feel warm and safe—happy. Excitement bubbled up inside me, and I started to hand the candle over to the vendor, when my gaze caught on a deep purple candle beside it; the words
Fertility and Family
stared back at me. Oh my God, there are people desperate to have a baby and I . . .
    My hands began to shake. What was I thinking? I thought ending things with Ethan would bring some kind of relief or clarity into my life, but he was only one element of my world, and he was never the one causing me the greatest problem. I read the word
fertility
again and set my love candle back down, no longer feeling like I deserved that candle or the