A/N - WOW ME? UPDATING THIS FIC? UNHEARD OF/hj

So funny story: I had absolutely no desire to actually continue this fic until one day, my good friend Elijah bullied me until I promised to write another chapter. He's my biggest fan guys he made me write this/LH

In all honestly though I'm vv happy to finally be continuing this! I have a few more ideas for how I want the plot to go, so we'll see where it ends up (it'll prob just be up to 10-15 chapters!) For anyone who still happens to read this fic, tysm for reading and waiting two years for me to update SHDKJDJDLKJ

Hope you enjoy this chapter my loves! your support is much appreciated :)

"You cannot leave and have me too. I cannot exist in two places at once."

— Rupi Kaur

One Year Ago

In hindsight, Kara should've known this was a bad idea.

Going somewhere with Dolores was one thing— one thing that usually led to worse things. Given how Kara and Dolores both caused disasters themselves, combining them only caused a bigger disaster, leaving metaphorical earthquakes in their wake. She could tell the future when it came to Dolores, or even when it came to the Countess. Going anywhere with them was predictable, catastrophic.

But going somewhere with Dolores and her friends? That, Kara had never done before, and for that reason, had never known whether that could lead to bad things, too. Yet here she was, sitting in the back of a van, squished in between Dolores and her friends as they drove through the streets. The sky had fizzled into a dazzling sunset, casting the last of its rays on the city buildings. Nighttime laid out before them like an unspoken promise, filled with adventures yet to come.

She'd never hung out around Dolores's gang before, nor had she ridden in their van before. Dolores didn't own a car. The Countess tried teaching her to drive when she was younger, but that'd only ended in screaming (and a short trip to the police station). Whenever Kara was old enough to drive, she'd rather throw herself in a boiling lake of lava over getting a driving lesson from the Countess.

Assuming her aunt let her drive at all.

Outside their apartment building, a man Kara didn't recognize had rolled up, introducing himself right away. "Hello, Dolores's little friend! My name is Gustav Bartholomew Glen." He had an accent that Kara couldn't quite place. "And you are?"

Dolores rolled her eyes with enough distain to rival her mother. "You know who I am, Gustav."

Gustav released a laugh, deep and low. His eyes turned to Kara. "Actually, I was talking to the kid."

"Oh." Dolores's narrowed eyes shifted to Kara. "She's no one. I found her in the street."

Kara frowned. Why was she lying? "But I'm your—"

"Shh," her cousin hissed. "I don't want to be associated with you."

Ah, this was about her being embarrassed. That made more sense. Kara would let Dolores have this one. For now. She just wasn't sure why Dolores was so embarrassed to be seen with her — usually it was the Countess who made that speech, not the other way around. Still, she understood. It was like how Kara tried not to bring her friends home . . . assuming she had been in a place long enough to make some. Her aunt and cousin would scare Kara's friends away more than she did herself, so maybe Dolores was thinking along the same lines.

"I'm Kara." Kara turned to grin back up at Gustav. "So, you're apart of Dolores's gang? After hearing about it I'm interested to see what you guys do! And how did you all meet? And—"

Dolores sighed loudly, then nudged Kara hard in the ribs. "Get in the car. We don't have all night."

She threw open the door, revealing even more people that Kara didn't recognize. Probably six other people who were all squished into the van. Kara had only a second to glance back at Dolores before she was abruptly shoved into the car, where she stumbled into an empty seat in the back. Before she'd even had a chance to settle in, Dolores plopped down beside her, nudging Kara as far away as she could.

"Everyone, listen up!" Dolores barked, loud enough to be heard over the blaring rock music in the car. "This is Kara. Our newest recruit."

Kara's head swiveled to her, her grin fading. "What?" she whispered. "I never said I was joining your gang!"

"Just go along with it."

A man in the seat in front of Kara swiveled around, peering at her behind tinted sunglasses. "Ever shot a gun, Kara?"

Dolores smacked him on the back of the head. "She's a kid!"

The man recoiled instantly. Despite the fact that he was wearing sunglasses, Kara was almost positive he was glaring at Dolores. "Geez! Just a question."

"Do you really shoot guns?" Kara asked, a wave of excitement running through her. And then, followed by a small pang of fear at the implications of it. From what she'd pictured Dolores' gang doing, nothing in her wildest imaginations had ever conjured up them shooting guns. Did they use them? Did Dolores have a gun without Kara even knowing about it? Had the gun been in the house somewhere? And if so, did Kara's aunt know?

"Don't answer that," Dolores barked almost immediately, her words sharp in Kara's ear.

"Come on, why not?"

Only silence followed her answer. Unexpected, since she was used to a snappy retort about how Kara should stop asking questions, or something along those lines. Ten minutes into the drive, it occurred to Kara that she had no idea where they were going. She'd never actually asked Dolores. In her impulsiveness to appease her cousin, she never had bothered to think on it.

Luckily, she knew the city well enough to get an idea of where they could be going. They went down from block to block, passing the run-down pizza shop Kara liked eating at, the convenience store she always got hair dye at, and a couple other shops that Kara had walked by countless times. They passed all of it, taking a right turn that led into an alley.

There was nothing about it that Kara recognized. She'd probably walked past it a dozen times without a second thought, assuming there were just dumpsters or people's backyards there. While there were some dumpsters, there wasn't much else in the alley, which was barely wide enough to fit their van.

Kara leaned her head back against the threadbare headrest. The van had a strong smell to it, like a dozen chemicals were trapped inside, despite the windows being pushed all the way open. Maybe they smoked a lot in here, which was totally not Kara's thing. But if everyone did it then Kara probably would too, just to try it. And to try to impress Dolores's friends, because wow, they were cool. Cooler than anyone Kara had ever hung out with, which was saying something.

The jolting of the van brought Kara out of her thoughts. They'd pulled up to the other end of the alley, where Kara assumed they'd merge back onto the road. But instead, the van rolled to a stop unexpectedly, sending Kara almost crashing forward into the headrest in front of her. A second later, the driver was placing the van into park, already swinging open the door. The others were doing the same, starting to pile out of the van's single sliding door.

"We're getting out?" Kara heard herself say.

Dolores turned to her, a snarky tone to her voice. "Yes, Kara. If you couldn't tell, this is the part where we walk. Unless you'd rather sit here and wait for us in the car."

Kara felt her cheeks grow hot. She did not want to be treated like a little kid, especially in front of Dolores's cool friends. "Nope! I'm good with walking."

The dissatisfied look on her cousin's face told her that was not the answer Dolores had been hoping for.

Everyone tumbled out of the van— everyone except Gustav, who said he needed to stay with the car, so he'd be ready to pick them up at a moment's notice. Or maybe it was just to keep the van from being stolen, since they were in a city and everything. Kara was the last to get out, her sneakers slamming against the concrete. The smell of smoke was even more prominent here, seeping into her lungs, leaving her at the brink of a cough. She held it in.

They started to walk, going on until arrived back in the street. Several shops lined their side of the road, from a bakery to a clothing store until finally, they stopped in front of a convenience store— a 7-11, an exact replica of the one near Kara's apartment, where she sometimes got slushees or gum on her way back from school. The adults around her formed a circle, leaning in conspiratively as they spoke in hushed voices. A strange feeling tugged at her gut.

"Hey, what's going on?" Kara asked, only for Dolores to immediately shush her.

"And you're sure they're there?" one of Dolores's friends pressed.

"Oh, I'm positive," Dolores said matter-of-factly. "I checked yesterday. There was a brand new shipment of them. Hundreds of them."

A shipment of what? Kara watched them in confusion, questions bubbling to the surface of her mind. She had a feeling Dolores wasn't talking about a new shipment of slushees. That, Kara would've heard about.

"Hundreds?" One guy's eyebrows shot up, an eager look in his eyes. "Man, we are going to be so ric—" Dolores cleared her throat loudly, motioning at Kara. The man blushed. "Sorry."

Not for the first time, Kara felt left-out next to Dolores. She gestured to the 7-11 in front of them. "Are we . . . going inside?"

Her cousin glanced at her, barking out a harsh laugh. "In that filthy place? No, actually. But . . ." Her eyes fell on something, and they narrowed. "Hey, that's not a bad idea. You have money on you, right?"

"Uh . . ." Kara fished inside her pocket, pulling out the remaining ten dollars she kept for lunch money at school. "Just this."

"Perfect. Buy yourself a slushee."

Nothing about this was making sense. "What?"

"Just do it. This is your mission, Kara. Do you want to hang out with us or not?"

"Yeah! Of course, jeez. I'll get one."

With everyone's eyes on her, Kara pushed open the door, the bell chiming as she stepped inside. For once, the action of getting a slushee felt almost odd. Why did Dolores want her to get one, anyway? And why just Kara? Or maybe this was just Dolores remembering that Kara liked slushees— assuming she remembered what Kara liked at all. Maybe this was Dolores wanting to do something nice for her. Again, a weird occurrence, but Kara yearned for the concept that it could be true.

Trying to shake off her confusing thoughts, Kara went for her usual flavor (blue raspberry) and paid for it at the counter, where the cashier made a joke about Kara's hair matching the color of her drink— one that Kara barely processed. But he wasn't wrong. Her hair really did match the color of the drink. Not that it had for very long. Only since they'd moved here two years ago, and Kara had washed away the mint green color it'd been at the last town.

Before that place, though, it'd been lilac. And before that? Her natural color, mixed with streaks of red. Whenever she moved to a new place, Kara tended to dye her hair. While she had little control over anything else, she liked having the control over her appearance. In general, dying it had always been her way of starting over in a new place. Changing herself on the outside, based on how she felt on the inside. And at every location, it'd shifted, never staying the same for too long. In this version of Kara, blue felt right.

Clutching the cold drink in her hand, Kara met her Dolores and her friends back outside. Where for some reason, Dolores looked almost proud of her, as if Kara had won the lottery or something, rather than getting a 7-11 slushee. And Kara, who had never experienced praise from Dolores's end, relished in the feeling. Relished in it until they huddled up again, talking in those same hushed voices. Sneaking glances over their shoulders and across the streets, like they were seeing something that was visible to everyone but her.

And back then, even though Kara couldn't see into the future or predict the events to come, the slushee almost felt like a bright red warning sign.

(Or in this case, a blue-raspberry warning sign.)

"Owen? Hey, wake up. It's our stop."

A nudge to his side jolted Owen awake. He instantly straightened up, blinking the sleep away to squint at an apologetic-looking Kara. His eyes darted from her to the window, where the edge of their neighborhood sat just outside. Oh. Despite still being practically half-asleep, it didn't take Owen long to put the pieces together. Reaching for his backpack, he followed Kara off the bus, stepping onto the sidewalk right after she did. They swiveled around, waving to the bus driver, who always waved back with a smile.

It wasn't the first time Kara had had to wake him up. In between working late shifts at the library and the stress of school itself, Owen tended to spend most of his time daydreaming on the bus, which only led to dozing off. The actual dozing off had happened a few times this month, and each time, Kara had nudged him awake. In the past when it'd happened, the bus driver, who knew him by name, would usually just call his name. How embarrassing. At least now, he had an actual friend to sit with, instead of sitting alone like he usually did.

The thought always caused excitement to burst through him. That was one thing he should've expected. One thing he wasn't sure why he hadn't expected, since it was so obvious. The first day Kara had shown up at school, she'd taken her bike, which was why Owen had assumed she'd take her bike every other day. But instead, she took the bus. Meaning since they lived in the same neighborhood, they took the same bus to and from school. And for someone who'd never had a friend to sit with before on bus rides, he looked forward to them more than ever.

"How many times have I had to do that?" Kara pondered out-loud, the screech of the bus's tires nearly drowning out her words. "Five times? Six?"

"What? It hasn't been six!"

"Well, it's been a bunch of times. I need to start counting. That way I can predict when you'll fall asleep next! I'm guessing . . . next Tuesday. Yeah! If you couldn't tell, I can see into the future."

"If you can see into the future, why didn't you warn me about our horrible math test?"

"Because I only predict hilarious things, like you falling asleep every time we're on the bus together."

He rolled his eyes at her, unable to hold back his grin. Catching the look on his face, she grinned back. They started their journey back to their houses, shoulders bumping every so often. The end of September was quickly approaching, leaving a chill in the air that forced everyone to start wearing jackets. But although the sun was starting to slip farther away, it didn't feel like it to Owen. Not when the metaphorical version lived right next door to him, a now-constant warmth in his life.

Contrary to what he'd thought, Kara had stuck with Owen, Bethany, and Kiel, rather than finding her own popular friend group. Whether it was because Owen was the first person she'd met, or because Kara really liked Kiel's jokes, he wasn't sure. What he did know, though, was that they'd become such fast friends that it felt like they'd known each other for years. Or longer than a few weeks, at least, which definitely didn't seem like the case.

It didn't take long to reach their houses. From the bus stop, it was only a few minutes-long walk— something that felt shorter since they talked most of the way back. They kept going until they reached the space that separated their houses, stopping to face each other on the sidewalk. It was usually at this point in the day where they said their goodbyes. Or more recently, when they'd decide to do homework at Owen's house, since that was a thing they did now.

Never at Kara's, though. For reasons he didn't ask about, she'd never invited him over. Of course, she'd invited him to other things, like going to the park or getting ice cream. Just never to her actual house. And Owen, being either too shy or nervous to invite himself, always chickened out when he thought of asking to go inside. The most he'd seen of it was the doorway, and the curve of the wooden staircase behind it. Other than that, the Dox house remained a mystery. As did Kara's aunt, who Owen could only catch glimpses of when she pulled out of the driveway.

But for now, Kara seemed to want to keep that part of her life separate. Understandable, if her aunt embarrassed her as much as his mom did. Okay, his mom was awesome, but she definitely had gone a little too far showing Kara his old baby pictures on the wall. It'd been on the first time Kara had come over, too— a little over a week ago. Owen had been horrified. After all, she was his first new friend in ages— he didn't want to scare her away!

"So . . ." Owen began, and Kara gave him a curious look. "I guess I'll see you in class next week? Or me and Bethany and Kiel were thinking of doing something on Saturday, if you want to come."

Kara's eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, um, I'd love that! As long as I get back before my aunt's home." Probably seeing the questioning look in his eyes, she added, "She always gets back from work earlier on the weekends."

He hesitated. Although she had a feeling that Kara didn't like talking about her aunt, there it was: an opening to learn a little more. Nothing wrong with asking. "Uh, where does she work again?"

He'd never asked that before, but it seemed easier to pretend he had.

"She's just a history professor at some college." She'd said it with an air of carelessness, in the same way that Owen talked about math class.

"Whoa, really? That's so cool!"

"I guess?" Kara released a chuckle, then shrugged. "I'm just glad she has a normal job for once." As soon as the words left her mouth, Kara tensed up slightly, almost as if she'd said something she shouldn't have.

"What kinds of jobs did she have before?" Owen tossed her a smile. "Like, a famous fashion designer or something?"

She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging. "Yeah, something like that. And hey, fashion designer jobs could be normal for my family, you never know."

"Oh, is that why you guys moved to the most boring place on earth?"

A laugh burst out of Kara, the wonderful bounciness of it echoing in Owen's ears. "Psh, sure."

"It's true! Where would you see a fashion designer in—" He waved a hand around. "The suburbs of Illinois?"

"At my house, obviously," Kara joked, and he couldn't help giggling. She joined in. All of it, though, was shattered by the sound of a phone ringing. It took them all of two seconds to realize the sound was coming from her phone, not his, and Kara fished the device out of her back pocket, holding the screen up to her face. Her jaw fell open. Almost absently, she muttered, "What? She never calls me."

"Who?" Owen leaned over to see the screen. From his perspective, the name of the caller was upside-down— meaning it took him an extra moment just to make sense of the letters. When he did, he crinkled his brows. The Countess. Who was that? Either Kara knew someone who was nobility (probably unlikely), or it was a nickname she'd made up for someone she knew, like a friend or something (more likely). And knowing Kara's sense of humor, it could definitely be the second.

Kara didn't answer. Instead, she pressed the answer button on her phone, slowly lifting the phone to her ear. "Hello?" There was a pause, as Owen heard the muffled voice of a woman on the other end. Throughout it, Kara's frown grew deeper. "You want me to . . . but what about dinner?" She went silent for a while, the other voice growing loud enough that Owen could almost make out the words. When Kara finally spoke again, she said, "Bye. See you tonight."

Owen heard the phone call end— the other person must've done it, because Kara was still clutching her phone next to her ear, her mouth pressed into a line. Sighing, she lowered the phone and threw Owen an apologetic look. "Sorry about that."

"Is . . . everything okay? And who's 'the Countess'?"

Kara snorted. "Saw that, did you? That was my aunt."

"Oh." Owen's eyebrows shot up. "Oh! So why do you call her . . ."

"I don't really want to get into detail of why I call her that." She cringed. "But long story short, she's not really . . . the friendliest person to live with. And she called because she's not coming home for dinner tonight. She has a meeting with other professors at the college or something."

Somehow, Owen had pictured the phone call to be about something worse, based on Kara's reaction. "That's okay though, right? You could just order in food!"

Kara's pigtails bounced as she shook her head. "The Countess won't let me do that."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, I kinda don't have money. She doesn't trust me with it."

"Wait, what?" Owen stared at her in shock. "What about if you need it for something?" He searched Kara's eyes for an answer, but her gaze was locked on the ground below them. Was he just imagining it, or was her face redder than it'd been a minute ago?

"She'll only let me buy stuff if it's necessary, like for school."

"Uh, food is necessary?"

She gave him a smile, one that he noticed looked slightly forced. "I know, right? We just don't usually get take-out or go out to eat unless its for like, special ocassions. Honestly, I don't mind it. Seriously. Don't worry, I can just make a sandwich when I get home!"

Owen took in a breath. Trying to muster his courage, he asked, "What about if you got take-out with someone else? And they were paying?"

"Um, I guess that would be fine? Or she could get mad— I don't know anymore." Catching the look on his face, her eyes grew wider. She poked his shoulder. "Wait a minute! Owen, what are you planning?"

"Nothing!" he said innocently, blushing. "I was just thinking— well, my mom won't be home for a bit since she's working and I'll be home and I might be eating leftovers anyway, depending on when she gets back. And I was thinking that maybe you would want to come over my house for dinner? Like, as friends! I mean onlyifyouwantto!" The words came out in a rush, spilling out into the open air until they reached Kara's ears. Or more likely, until she processed his lengthy invite.

"Wait, really?" A grin lit up Kara's face, fully genuine this time. "You're serious?"

"Yeah! If you're okay with it."

"No, yeah, I am! I'd just feel really bad about not paying."

"Don't worry about it." He gave her a smile, all-too-aware of how hard his heart was pounding. Please say yes.

Glancing once at her empty driveway, she nodded at Owen, an excited gleam in her eyes. "Okay. Let's do this."

In the end, dinner wasn't spent at either of their houses. Instead, they went to Waffle House, which sat only a short bike ride away from where they lived. After searching up restaurants and being unable to decide on where to order from, Kara had suggested they just go somewhere close by. On some unspoken agreement, neither of them wanted to be out too late, due to different levels of anxiety that involved their parental figures expecting them to be home.

The only difference was that Mrs. Conners was one of the sweetest ladies Kara had ever met, so she doubted Owen would be in much trouble, seeing as he'd updated his mom on his dinner plans with Kara, anyway. The Countess, on the other hand, would be far less forgiving if she knew where Kara was. It didn't used to be like this before . . . everything, but after last year, simple freedoms like this were rare. Kara couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out to dinner with a friend. Let alone someone who wasn't the Countess or Dolores.

Yet here she was, sitting in a booth across from her neighbor, filling the silence while they waited for their food. They'd both gotten breakfast— pancakes for Kara and waffles for Owen, with a side of eggs they'd planned on sharing. It probably didn't count as real dinner food (then again, why should it, since it was breakfast?) but it felt like more than enough. Somehow, though, this felt different than other times Kara had gone to dinner with friends. And definitely different from eating together in the cafeteria, with hundreds of other kids crowded in the same room. No, this was different in ways she couldn't explain, and it made Kara's heart race in anticipation.

Across the room, a couple sat in a booth much like their's, lovesick smiles on their faces. Kara's stomach flipped. Could that be why this felt different? Because Owen, who made her heart squeeze and kept her laughing, was alone with her at a restaurant? Sure, it was Waffle House, but dates could happen anywhere. Regardless, she urged her brain to remember, he was just a friend. For now, it felt better that way. To keep him at a safe distance, so the girl who was prone-to-metaphorical-tornados wouldn't get too attached. Because if they moved away again, like they always did, he'd be gone from her life forever.

Unless, of course, this home actually became something permanent. But what were the chances?

Thankfully, their conversation was lightyears away from Kara's inner thoughts. They talked about the books Owen had been reading— the ones he spoke about with such enthusiasm, it made her want to run to the library and borrow them immediantly, just to take a glimpse into their pages. Then about school— the extracurriculars Kara had been thinking about joining (while I'm still here, she'd added silently), to which Owen had jokingly recommended she join the 'time travel club'. She'd stuck her tongue out at him in response, earning a giggle from her friend.

"But really, that should be a thing!" Kara had declared, receiving a vigorous nod from Owen.

A little before their meals arrived, Owen stepped out to go the bathroom. As she waited, Kara occupied herself by staring out the window, feet tapping against the wooden floor. At one point, the front door swung open, new customers stepping inside. Since their booth was positioned deeper into the diner, Kara wasn't able to see much of the newcomers, until the hostess waved them over. As the group passed, Kara's gaze snapped to them . . . and her mouth felt dry.

Because she recognized one of them. The same black leather jacket, the same bald head . . . it couldn't be, could it? By now, she stopped breathing entirely. All she could see was the back of the woman's head, but it was enough, enough for Kara to push her hands against the table and start rising to her feet. Even with the support of her arms, her knees nearly buckled, threatening to collapse back into the comfy seat. But she wasn't willing to let that happen. Not until—

"Dolores?"

The name flew from Kara's lips before she could stop it. Her outburst must've been louder than she'd anticipated, because the newcomers glanced back in her direction. As did the bald woman. And then, Kara did fall back into her seat. It wasn't Dolores. In fact, the woman had been the farthest from Dolores, with her bright eyeshadow and gentle face. Kara stared at her menu, her cheeks growing hot. Was this how it was going to be, every time she saw a bald woman who looked remotely like her cousin?

"Did you see someone here you know?" a voice from her right questioned. Kara's head lifted to see Owen, who of course, had picked that exact moment to show up.

"Uh, nope!" She gave him what she hoped was a believable smile, and took the opportunity to busy herself by drinking water. As Owen slid into his seat, though, he just continued looking at her with that same expression, like he wasn't buying her answer. Giving in, she sighed, placing her cup down with a thud. "Okay, yeah. I thought I did. But I was wrong."

"You said her name was Dolores?"

He'd seen that, too? By some miracle, Kara maintained a lighthearted tone. "Yep! Kinda an old-fashioned name, huh?"

"I guess," Owen said with a chuckle. He knit his brows, clearly wanting to say something else. "I just . . . well, I've seen your aunt's license plate."

"Oooookay?"

He waved his hands, blushing. "Not like that! I mean— I just remember the name on the license plate. It was Dolores." He held her gaze steadily, his words coming out softer. "And I've seen your aunt when she's come outside, but . . . she's not bald. She has hair."

"Nice observation."

"You know what I mean. What I'm trying to say is: your aunt clearly isn't this Dolores person, but somehow you guys are connected to her. So . . . who is she?"

For the first time all evening, Kara was ultimately speechless. Somehow, Owen had put together the pieces that Dolores was an existing person in Kara's life. In the midst of everything else, she'd completely forgotten that Aunt C had Dolores's name on her license plate, that to anyone with a smart eye, they might connect the dots between the two. And Kara had been careful. All thoughts of Dolores were locked away safely in her mind, and upon the Countess's demand, were supposed to stay that way.

No one was supposed to learn about what'd happened to a year ago. It was essential if Kara wanted to move on, to keep from unlocking her past and driving more people away. But if she were to talk to anyone about Dolores . . . wouldn't it be Owen? Maybe she didn't have to go into detail, maybe she didn't have to say everything, but a part of Kara ached to get at least one secret out into the open. Ached even more to tell Owen everything about herself, no matter how dumb that would be.

For now, she settled on the easiest answer she could give— the one that wouldn't inevitably get her into trouble. "Dolores is . . . she's my cousin. And she's also the Countess's actual daughter."

"And . . . she doesn't live with you?"

Kara shook her head slightly. "Not anymore. It's uh . . . definitely been an adjustment." She tossed him a shaky grin. "Probably nothing more major than moving to five different schools in six years, but still, it's super weird not having her here."

She appreciated that Owen didn't ask her why Dolores wasn't there. Maybe he sensed she wasn't willing to share that. Owen opened his mouth to say something, but it was just then that their meals arrived, the waiter setting down steaming plates of breakfast in front of them. The smell of pancakes filled Kara's nose, and she shared an excited look with Owen as they eagerly reached for their carefully-wrapped silverware.

They started eating, the next few minutes filled with the clattering of forks against their plates. And then, as Owen swallowed a piece of syrup-coated waffle, he returned her confession with one of his own. "Um, about your cousin— I think I know how you feel. My dad left when I was really little." He shrugged, pouring more syrup over his waffles. "I don't really remember him that much, so I guess it's not the same, but yeah. It's still weird, if that counts!"

"Weirder than the way you drown your waffles in syrup?"

"Uh, hey!" He let out a laugh. "You're the one who eats rolled up pancakes!" He gestured to Kara, who was sure enough, picking up the pancake she'd carefully rolled.

In response, Kara reached out, slapping a syrupy hand on Owen's arm. He yelped and recoiled, making her giggle. "Touché."

"But thanks for telling me," she added, after taking a few more bites. "About your dad. I didn't actually mean to tell you about my cousin— I've barely talked about her and—" Kara cut herself off. "Anyway, um, thanks for listening. I feel like there are just some things I tell you that I don't really . . . tell anyone else. Does that sound crazy?"

"No, that doesn't sound crazy." Against the fluorescent lights of the diner, the smile on Owen's cheeks was wide. "I think we do that for each other."