Page 32 of Kane
KANE: ?
That’s it. Just a question mark.
“What the hell,” I mutter.
I stare at the message, frustration, anger, and confusion slamming into me all at once. I sent him a clear message telling him I never wanted to see him again, and he replies with a single punctuation mark?
Like my boundaries are a joke?
Like he thinks I’m playing hard to get or throwing a Little tantrum he can ignore?
Heat rushes to my face. Part of me wants to type back something furious. Another part—the traitorous, aching part—wants to know what he means by it.
Is he mocking me?
Testing me?
Or is that single question mark his way of saying he doesn’t accept my decision?
Before I can spiral further, Davey reappears on the deck. He spots the glowing phone in my hands immediately.
“Oh no you donot!” Davey says, swooping in and gently but firmly swiping it out of my grasp. “Phone jail until we leave. You gave it to me for a reason, remember?”
I blink, then burst into giggles. The tension breaks. “You’re right. It’s for the best. I don’t even know why I turned it on.”
Davey tucks my phone into his own pajama pocket with a triumphant grin. “Because you’re a curious Little who’s still processing a very intense encounter with a very intense man. But tonight is about marshmallows, Britney, and zero dangerous Daddy drama.”
We both laugh, the sound carrying out over the quiet lake. He skewers another marshmallow for me and we go back to toasting, singing along to the music, and making up fun stories about what Twist and Hardy might do if they went on their own stuffies-only camping trip.
Later, when the fire burns low and we’re curled up under blankets with our stuffies, I feel steadier. The single question mark still lingers in the back of my mind, but it doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming out here. The fresh air, the distance from the city, Davey’s unwavering support—it’s exactly what I needed.
Tomorrow we’ll do remote lectures.
Maybe go for a hike.
We’ll definitely eat way too many candies.
And I’ll keep my phone off and my thoughts focused on the safe, predictable world I belong in.
At least… that’s the plan.
* * *
The next evening comeswaytoo quickly.
After a perfect day spent splashing in the lake, chasing each other with water guns, building the world’s most lopsided sandcastle on the tiny beach, and stuffing ourselves with even more candies, we finally pack up Davey’s two-seater.
My muscles ache in the best way from all the running and laughing. Twist is tucked safely in my backpack, a little damp from one enthusiastic dip in the water, but happy. Davey and I are both sun-kissed and relaxed, the kind of tired that feels like a reset button for the soul.
“I can’t thank you enough for this,” I tell him as we load the last bags into the tiny trunk. “Seriously. The fresh air, the lake, no phone… I feel like a person again.”
Davey grins and bumps my shoulder.
“That was the whole point,” Davey giggles. “And I kept my promise… no phone access. You’re welcome. Well apart from that one time you sneaked a peek!” He winks, patting the pocket where my phone is still safely locked away. “Now let’s get back to the city before we turn into full-time lake gremlins.”
We climb in, wave goodbye to the cabin, and pull onto the winding road that will eventually lead us back to the highway. The sun has already set, leaving the sky a deep indigo. Britney is playing softly again, and we sing along half-heartedly, both of us a little sleepy and full of s’mores.
About halfway home, the road becomes a long, dimly lit stretch flanked by thick woodland on both sides. Streetlights are few and far between. It feels peaceful at first, quiet and private after the busy city. I’m staring out the window, replaying happy moments from the day, when the car’s dashboard suddenly lights up with a bright warning.
