Page 64 of Uncharted Desires

“Kat? God, West, you really will sleep with anything. That was your little backing singer you went missing with? Oh West, that won’t last. You’ll get bored sweetie; she won’t know the first thing about making you happy. She’s going to want marriage and kids, and a house in the suburbs. What, are you going to drive your kids to soccer? You don’t do those things. You do models and parties. If she really knew who you were she wouldn’t want anything to do with you.”

Gia patted his cheek as she walked out of his room, and his life, hopefully forever. West thought about what she said. She was wrong. Wasn’t she?

He could be all those things Kat wanted; he could be a regular guy and raise a family if that was what they decided to do.

Gia didn’t know the first thing about making him happy, but with Kat, he had laughed, felt free, and could tell her about his worries and doubts. She hadn’t judged him but had pushed him to think about his future. He had to fix this; she had to believe he hadn’t wanted Gia to show up like that.

The thing about clocks is the longer you watch them the slower they move, and tonight Kat felt as if time had stopped entirely. Sick of staring at the clock, she drifted across the carpet to her balcony, like a ghost in the night air. Opening the sliding door, she planted herself on the edge of the patio chair and watched as the city bustled below her, like an endlessly running river, while time stood still.

She kept sneaking glances back at the clock. Thirty minutes had passed since she’d fled from his room. He wasn’t coming to get her, that was apparent. He had probably seen his ex and been like, forget Kat, she’s plain, fat, and old. I need to get back with Gia. A tear slid down her face, and she wiped it away, refusing to let herself be maudlin over something she knew would never happen. Another treacherous tear dripped from her eye, followed by another.

How many times would she cry over this guy? It was ridiculous. She had never cried over a man, and here she was doing it twice in one day. It’s not even like she knew how he felt about her. She realized all too late that she loved him, but he had never professed any kind of feeling for her other than lust, and maybe slightly caring if she died on the island.

She turned back to the clock, her only source of time since she didn’t have a replacement phone yet.

Forty-five minutes.

He wasn’t coming; she was sure of it now. He had to go to the press event.

Kat needed to stop reading romance novels, obviously. She dropped her head in her hands and sang to herself.

Not one of his songs, or even her own, but the tune of “Killing Me Softly” sprang to her mind. That was how she felt, that he was killing her. Music always had a way of distracting her from what bothered her—it was an escape from reality—but more than that it also connected her to her emotions, to her thoughts and needs, and right now it connected with her breaking heart.

She wished she had a new phone and her headphones, because she had the perfect broken-heart playlist to pass the time. She stood up and glanced over the balcony, watching the cars pass below, the lights of the city shining around her. This feeling was exactly why she didn’t take risks because every time she put herself out there and was rejected it hurt like hell.

A knock at the door made her turn. Maybe it was him, but he was supposed to be at the press conference. She walked over and peered through the peephole. West stood outside holding a large stack of books in his arms.

She opened the door, saying nothing. His eyes were full of emotion as he wiped away a single tear from her cheek with his free hand. Stepping inside, the door closed behind him with a soft snick as he gently said, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It took longer than I thought to get these at this time of night.”

He handed her the books, and Kat read through the titles, “Birds in Song; My Hair, My Power; Fry Bread with Auntie Gwen; We Are Grateful.” She looked up at him. “West, what is this?”

He stepped back and Kat thought he looked nervous, but that was impossible because West was never nervous.

“You said on the island you had a book that influenced you to play the flute that wasn’t even written by someone Native.” He nodded toward the stack in her arms. “These are. They’re you.”

Another tear slid down her cheek, but this time from joy. Her heart had never felt so full in her life. It was the most kind, thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her.

“Do you like them?” His eyes begged her to say yes, and how could she not?

“Of course I do. These are amazing. I don’t even know how you found them.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing along her arm, and her body shivered. “I saw a bookstore on the way back from my police interview. I stopped in and asked them to gather what they could find. They weren’t thrilled with me when I was back demanding them tonight.”

Kat smiled as she flipped through the pages and saw a picture of a little girl having her hair brushed by her mother. The memory of her mother doing the same thing when she was young came back to her. Kat hadn’t had a haircut until she was eight, despite nagging her mother. She’d wanted a cute cut with bangs just like all the other girls in her midwestern predominantly White school. But her grandmother had explained that Kat’s hair held her memories, dreams, and aspirations. Cutting it could represent the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Kat hadn’t really cared back then; she’d just wanted to fit in. She chopped it all off and then cried for a week.

West reached for the stack, pulling one out. “This one is my favorite. It reminds me the most of you.”

The beautiful images of Native women and girls set against fantastical landscapes held her in awe. West flipped to one of the pages. “All the books reminded me of you in one way or another, but this one especially made me think of your connection with nature on the island. How that connection saved my life. How I will never again take that connection for granted.”

Kat read the line from the page West had turned to. “Remember you are one with the earth, one with the animals, and one with the spirit. They connect to you as you to them. Feel their power.”

Kat took a deep breath. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much, West. I’ve never owned books that represent me.”

Instantly, he had her wrapped in his strong arms. “I’m so sorry. I was going to wait to give them to you, but now seemed the best time. I didn’t know Gia would be there. I sent her away. I promise.” He kissed her head and face between apologies.

She reluctantly pulled herself away just enough for their bodies to no longer touch and moved the book to the desk. He searched her face for an answer and continued talking. “Gia means nothing to me. She talked a valet into letting her in. I told her we’re through . . .”

Kat could feel his sincerity wash over her; his gaze was so intense it burned through her. She backed away from him. She couldn’t think straight so close to him, especially after such a thoughtful gift.