Miles From Kara by Melissa West Page B

open and Rose walked out, her hands on her hips. She was dressed in white pants and a red blouse, the most feminine look I’d ever seen on her.
    â€œWell, are you coming in or aren’t you?” she asked in her smooth Charleston accent. “I’ve got a fresh pitcher of lemonade with your name on it.”
    I tilted my head. “Lemonade?”
    â€œA little birdie mentioned that it was your favorite.”
    How could she . . . ? Olivia. Olivia must have told her that I would be hesitant. “It is,” I said, still cautious, but I had taken a step toward her.
    â€œVery well then. Come on in before the ice melts away and we’re left with watered-down lemons.” I sighed, knowing Rose was going to talk me into it one way or another, and started up the steps. She grinned the whole way. “You would have thought I’d asked you to offer up a kidney. What is it about my office that gives people such pause? Is it the black shutters? I’ve often thought of having them painted. Would country blue be better?”
    She led me through the small foyer and hallway, and then through the first door on the right into a wide office.
    â€œNo, they’re fine. It’s just a little . . . intimidating.”
    Rose sat down behind her desk, which was immaculate compared to Tori’s, and then pulled out a white cigarette from the pack beside her phone. She tipped it toward me. “Do you mind?”
    I shook my head, even though I sort of did. I fiddled with my purse strap, eyeing the cigarette. Rose squinted, and then she placed it back into its pack, like she could read the truth from my mind. “It’s fine, really,” I said.
    Rose leaned forward and crossed her hands in front of her. Her stare was unlike anything I’d ever encountered before. She was all hawk and kitten, penetrating yet gentle. I couldn’t make sense of the reaction she gave me, because it made me want to unload every thought and feeling I had with that single look. I wondered if she practiced it in front of the mirror or if it came naturally to her. I wondered if I would one day have my own look.
    â€œSo, Kara, what would you like to discuss today?”
    I glanced down at the notebook I’d brought over, question after question asking how she got started as a therapist, what she loved most about her job, who and what had helped her most to succeed—but none of that came to me. Instead, I met Rose’s gaze and said, “I had an abortion when I was sixteen.”
    Rose leaned back in her chair and stared at me for a solid minute. “I do believe we’re sitting in the wrong seats. Care to move over there?” She motioned to the leather sofa and matching chair beside it. I cringed. “No? All right then, let’s talk about sixteen-year-old Kara.”
    I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning at the realization that Rose might already know this story from Olivia. She might know everything about me already, but then not even Olivia knew everything, so how could Rose? I bit my lip, contemplating, when Rose added, “What were you like before the abortion?”
    I laughed, remembering my cheerleading skirts and high ponytails. “I was
that
girl, ya know? Popular and bubbly. The sort of girl who made everything in life look easy.”
    â€œAnd was it easy?”
    My gaze fell. “No.”
    â€œSo why the false pretenses?”
    â€œFalse pretenses?”
    â€œYes. Why did you lie to the people around you?”
    I straightened in my chair. “I didn’t lie. I would never lie. Lying is the most horrible thing in the world. It ruins relationships. It makes everyone around you question everything you say. It makes them lose all respect for you. I don’t lie. Ever.”
    Rose leaned forward slowly. “All right, dear. I believe you.”
    My eyes dropped again, tears building in them despite my best efforts. “I’m