Keeper of the Lost Cities: Rebuild [COMPLETED]

Chapter Sixteen - KEEFE

Keefe hated the Shores of Solace. Even the back patio—the only spot he used to be able to breathe—was wrought with memories. Both good and bad, but the latter overcame the former.

He stood on that porch now, like he did every morning, as if punishing himself for something.

For not being good enough.

For not being able to protect everyone.

For being the person she wants you to be, instead of being yourself.

Every. Morning.

He stood here.

He tortured himself with his regrets.

The ocean washed over the black sand, over and over and over. Every time the beach wanted to forget, wanted to be something new, wanted control over itself... Wash. And it was back to square one.

Always.

Back.

To.

Square.

One.

Wasn't that where he was with Sophie?

He'd made a mistake—he wasn't sure what, but he'd made it.

She was angry at him.

Now she was gone, and he was aching for the impossible.

He was always the one pining after her. That made him angry, but his traitorous heart wouldn't stop, so he was more than angry—he was devastated—but he shouldn't have been, because it was all one-sided and—

And he wasn't even sure if they were "split."

Stop overthinking everything.

"I would have thought you'd be gone by now," his dad's voice said from behind him. If Keefe strained, he could detect Cassius's emotions—irritation, resignation, stress—and while "hatred" wasn't one of them, he couldn't help but hear the judgment in his father's tone.

The hidden question: Why aren't you like me?

"Unlike some obnoxious people, I don't have to be an hour early to everything," Keefe said, spinning to face Lord Cassius. Even still, he couldn't quite meet his dad's eyes.

Cassius sighed. "I thought with you having responsibility now, you might understand my perspective on everything, but..."

But.

There were a thousand things that could come after "but."

Keefe tried not to guess, tried not to let it get to him, but he couldn't help the rage that rushed through his blood. Instinct told him to quit—he didn't have to be the Magnate anymore, especially with his and Sophie's... breakup—or just "break"; whatever it was. He didn't have to impress his dad with his career choice anymore.

But he could handle Cassius, even if that meant keeping his job. If he quit, he'd prove her right. And... he couldn't...

"I have to go," he muttered, shoving past Cassius and walking toward the Leapmaster 10,000. "Foxfire!"

The crystals rotated, stopped, landed on the one that would take him to the school. It was identical to its brothers and sisters; there was no differentiation, no way to tell them apart. It was nothing and had no purpose. It blended in—or tried to, anyway.

How could a crystal say so many words, but Keefe could not explain the storm raging inside him? It wasn't fair.

"By the way, I left your pathfinder in the bathroom, second drawer down on the vanity," he called. Crack a joke. That was what he did, wasn't it? "That, or under the guest room mattress. You choose—and I may have planted a stinky, slimy trap in one of those locations. Fifty-fifty chance. Leave me alone this week, and the next time I take the pathfinder, I'll make it seventy-thirty."