Chapter Seventeen
SOPHIE
It’s Tuesday, my second day back since Mom banned me from the flower shop. It’s a slow morning for once and I’m trying to put together a page for the look book on the computer.
It would be a lot easier if I could stop thinking about my night with Carter.
It was amazing. And the connection . The way he looked into my eyes as he made love—No. We didn’t “make love”. That would require actual love. And we’re not there… right?
Right. We had sex. Totally hot, non-committal, mind blowing, passionate sex.
And I really, really hope it happens again. In a purely sexual-desire kind of way. Because we’re not in love.
Abbie and I have been texting non-stop since that night. She hooked up with Jake, but insists they’re both just having fun. If only I could figure out how to get my heart on the same page as hers.
Shit . I look at the page I just typed and realize I’ve been one off when going down the list for the arrangements, and every single one has the wrong picture next to it.
I sigh, erasing all my work from the last thirty minutes.
My mind goes back to Saturday night, to our conversation at the bar. He said he hadn’t wanted to ghost me but had to because of his dad. I desperately want to know the entire story. What was so terrible that he felt like he had no choice but to leave me behind?
I’m scared of what it means if he tells me the entire story, and I agree with him that he had no choice. That I wasted nine years of my life being angry at him for something he had no control over. But I’m more scared of what it means if he tells me and it doesn’t justify any of his actions.
It’s like Schrodinger’s cat.
Or in this case, Schrodinger’s deep, dark secret.
We haven’t really been able to talk about what happened between us yet. Sunday night, Hart’s Flowers went into full on crisis mode when I received an email from our suppliers that we wouldn’t be getting any of the trillium flowers we’d special ordered for a funeral happening today. Apparently, the refrigeration system in the truck went out, and all the flowers arrived on site wilted.
While not necessarily a flower for a funeral, they were the deceased's favorite flowers and their children were adamant that we acquire some for the service. I spent all of yesterday calling different flower shops to see if they had any, and drove halfway across the state to pick up some from a city on the border of Connecticut. I made it back to the shop at around ten at night and was up until one in the morning making the arrangements for them to be picked up today.
Now that we’re out of crisis mode, Carter and I are supposed to meet for lunch today to talk about the plans the contractor drew up. Once he has my sign off, he’ll take it to the council. It’s important to me to meet with Carter to clarify a few things and go over the timeline before making anything final.
I check some entries for the books before my alarm goes off on my phone, telling me it’s time to leave for lunch.
“I’ll be back in an hour!” I call out to Kerry, who is in the back doing arrangements.
“Take your time!” she responds and I smile, loving that I can trust her to take care of the place while I’m gone.
When I get to Sal’s, the man himself is behind the counter. He’s pushing eighty now, but still loves running this place. He’s in his normal uniform, red and white striped apron and all. “Hey there, Sophie!” he says from behind the register.
“Hi, Sal.” I give him a warm smile. “I’m meeting Carter here. Has he come in yet?”
Sal smiles knowingly at me. “He’s at your usual booth in the back.”
Of course he is.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the sweet gesture, and I make my way to ‘our’ booth.
His hair is wet and pushed back like he’s just stepped out of the shower. When I reach him, the scent of his body wash fills my nose, telling me he has, in fact, done just that. A tight blue t-shirt stretches across his pecs, making his icy eyes pop as they rise to meet mine.
I don’t miss the girls in the opposite booth ogling him as I approach.
“Hey, Cart.” I use his old nickname without thinking about it.
Carter stands up, looking at me up and down in a way that suggests he’s evaluating my body language. Probably wondering if I’m freaking out since it’s the first time we’ve seen each other since we… reconnected. I give him a small smile, communicating that I’m okay, before he sweeps me into a brief hug.
“Hey, Angel,” he murmurs into my ear before pecking me on the cheek.
He slides back into the booth, and I’m still standing there, fingers pressed to where his lips touched my skin.
I need to snap out of it.
“You have the files?” Attempting to brush off the awkward moment, and ignoring the dirty looks from the girls in the booth near us, I slide into the seat opposite of him. I need to talk about us, but I am too chicken to start there.
He looks at me another moment like he might not let me get away with the diversion, then nods. “I do,” he confirms. “I’ve put sticky notes on the pages that you emailed me questions about so we can cover them easier.”
“Thank you. Let’s order, and then we can get started.”
Our waitress comes over and takes our order. The food comes three pages in, and by the time we finish eating, he’s answered all my questions, confirming that we can keep the original building itself. We do need to tear out the actual rinks, redo the piping underneath, and rebuild the ice rinks to be state of the art. The entire building needs to be rewired to be up to code since it hasn’t been looked at since 1976. Then we just repaint, and add a few technological perks. Like new scoreboards, implementing a new POS system to include a monthly membership so people can scan their membership card when they come in. An updated security system rounds everything out.
We’re just about to wrap up when someone entering the diner catches my eye. Is that…?
“ Shit, Oscar’s here,” I mutter, wishing I could disappear into the cushion of the booth. He’s been asking me out at least twice a month for the last six months and I haven’t wanted to be rude, but I don’t know how I can pull off a “dropped call” if we’re talking in person.
“Oscar?” Carter asks, tensing slightly before turning around.
“No, don’t turn—” Too late.
Oscar's eyes light up when he sees us and heads straight back to our table.
“Sophie, how are you? Long time, no see.”
Taking a sip of my drink, I eye Oscar before answering, “I’m fine, Oscar. What’s up?”
I’m not trying to be rude, but I haven’t gone out with the guy in two years, if you could even call it that. We never even slept together.
“It’s good to see your beautiful face in person. It’s been so long. Do you finally have a free evening coming up?” His voice is light, but there’s an undertone of annoyance.
Carter’s eyes shift between the two of us, clearly deciding if he needs to step in. I’ve been handling Oscar myself for years now though.
“Nope, no free evenings coming up.” I smile tightly. Can this guy not take a hint?
Carter looks about ready to ask him that very same question when Oscar grimaces. “Oh. Well, let me know.” He turns his head towards Carter. “Williams. Good to see you again.” He walks away before backtracking and turning to Carter like he forgot something. “Oh yeah, I just wanted to tell you what a great idea that rinks proposal was. I took a peek at it at last night's council meeting. I’ve got to say, tearing down a money pit like the rec center and replacing it with an NHL arena? Genius move.”
My blood runs cold. An arena? That’s not what we talked about. That’s not what we just spent an entire lunch going over. When I glance at Carter, his brow is furrowed with confusion.
“What the fuck? I never?—”
“Huh. I could have sworn that’s what they said.” Oscar shakes his head. “Anyway, enjoy your lunch, you two. Sophie, pencil me in when you get a free evening, okay? I’ll cancel whatever plans I already have.”
He walks away, leaving Carter and I alone at our table.
Has this whole thing been a lie? What was the point of putting together this proposal if he had one for an arena set up? Unless… was he planning on taking my signature from this contract and superimposing it over the other one?
“What was that, Carter?” My voice is cold.
“Honestly, I have no idea what he’s talking about.” His eyes seem sincere and a little confused.
“I don’t believe you, and that’s the problem.” My voice is still hard. “Who else would try to bring an NHL team here?”
“The contractor gave me a second proposal to give to the council that I didn’t look at. He said that one of the council members requested it. That must be what Oscar saw.” He shakes his head. “Trust me, I don’t have the clout it takes to convince a club to move.”
I want to believe him. What he’s saying… it makes sense.
Sitting back in my seat, I sigh. “I hate feeling like this, suspicious about everything. You never gave me any reason to distrust you while we were growing up…” I motion to him with my hand. “You need to give me something. Something true, Carter.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, yes, I can do that.”
This is it. I’ll finally know why he betrayed me all those years ago. “I want to know about the pictures I saw online.”
He blanks. “What… what pictures?”
“The ones I saw posted on graduation day. It looked like you had just gotten done with practice and there was this girl… she was kissing you.” The words burn coming out, but he genuinely looks like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
Then a sudden realization crosses his face. “About the time of graduation?” he asks, leaning forward.
“Yes,” I say, unable to meet his gaze. All the emotions from that day flood back to me. The confusion, the betrayal.
The devastation.
“I… shit, Soph. I think I know what you’re talking about.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I was out of it. I missed you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Then Dad ambushed me with this press conference thing during a training he sent me to, and this girl came up to me. Before I even knew what was happening, she was laying one on me.” His lip curls in disgust. “That’s all those pictures were.”
My heart stutters. He… he didn’t cheat on me? “I… I thought…”
“I don’t blame you,” he says, his tone understanding. “It’s not like I didn’t ghost you after.”
My gut twists at his words, at his acknowledgement of his behavior. “Will you tell me why? What went wrong? In your letter… you said we would make it work.”
He lets out a sigh, and runs his hands over his face. “I don’t know if you ever knew, or if you remember, Soph, but my dad is not a good man. For one, his helping me get into the NHL wasn’t because he wanted me to follow my dreams.” He shakes his head sadly, making my heart clench.
“On the drive to Notre Dame, he made it pretty clear I was just a meal ticket to him. An ATM machine that he’d be able to cash in on once I made it big. When I tried to tell him no, he… threatened Mom. I had only realized a few years beforehand the… extent of the abuse. He never left the bruises where anyone could see them, and he had always been so careful that I never knew.
“But once I pieced it together, it was like he didn’t care anymore. He’d do it in front of me. I tried to stop him once, and that’s the only time he ever hit me. Knocked me right out, and when I woke up, Mom was in worse shape than she would have been had I just left it alone. It was scary when he got like that. Sometimes,” he swallows roughly, “sometimes I was afraid he wouldn’t stop.”
My heart clenches at his words. His dad threatened his mom? I knew he was a bit controlling and hard to get along with, but… he hit her?
“Dad moved to Indiana to keep an eye on me, threatening to take it out on her if I took a step out of line. As far as you…” He swallows, looking up at me nervously. “He told me if I didn’t leave you behind, he would use his influence to make sure your parents’ shop sank to the ground. That he would make sure you would never get into any college, or employed by any company.” His voice cracks. “I just… I just wanted to keep you safe. So I had to stay away. He was always there, demanding money, holding everyone’s well being over my head. I could never forgive myself if something happened to either one of you.” Unshed tears glisten in his eyes. It’s absolutely devastating to see Carter look so… defeated.
My voice is rough when I ask, “What changed?”
“He’s disappeared. He’d been gone for longer and longer stretches of time before showing up again and demanding money, then a year ago, he just disappeared completely off the map. When we first went to Notre Dame, he sold the car dealership. Gave up his seat on the council. It didn’t make any sense. At first, I thought I was just his source of income, but a few years later, I realized he had a gambling problem.
“The first time he called to demand money outside his agent salary was a year after I was drafted. It started with a couple thousand at a time, then the years went by and the demands became more frequent, the amounts he was asking for increased.” His shoulders slump as he runs his hands over his face, like talking about all this is physically paining him.
“It wasn’t until he dragged over a hundred thousand from me over the course of a month that I realized something was going on. Since being gone, he hasn’t called to terrorize Mom, he hasn’t knocked on my door for a dime, and he’s not with any of his old friends. I hope to hell all his shady shit and gambling caught up to him. I just finally felt safe to come home. To you.” He looks down, not meeting my eyes.
Why?
Is it shame? Or embarrassment? He deserves neither of those things.
“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” My voice is quiet. I could have… done something. Well, maybe not, but at the very least, I wouldn’t have been left with so many questions.
“Sophie.” He sighs, meeting my eyes. “I know you. You would have tried to save me. You would have gotten involved, and he would have followed through on his threats. I couldn’t let that happen.”
My heart breaks for him. For the boy I knew, and what he had to go through. For what he had to watch his mom suffer, and be helpless to stop it. The thought of being under the thumb of his dad completely all these years and never having a choice in the matter makes me feel sick.
Abbie and Tom were right. All this time, I was the one angry at him . How could I have ever thought he would willingly leave me like that, ghost me like we meant nothing? How could I have thought the worst of him when he was protecting me? Logically, I know that I had no other information to go off of, but guilt eats away at me anyway.
“Carter.” My voice chokes, holding back tears of grief. “I am so sorry.” He looks up at me, his eyes glassy with emotion. “I wish…” I trail off, looking down and twiddling my thumbs. “I wish you hadn’t had to go through all of that alone. But, you’re right. I wouldn’t have taken his threats seriously. I would have told you I didn’t need a job or college as long as we’re together, and for him to do his worst.” A bitter laugh leaves me. “I would have jumped in headfirst to try to help, and would have just made the situation worse for both of us. And your mom.”
Carter tentatively reaches across the table, covering my hand with his. When I don’t pull away, he tightens his fingers around mine. “Let me take you out tonight. We can go out for an evening, just the two of us.”
When I look up at him, his beautiful blue eyes are shining with hope, and it’s easy to smile at him. Now that everything's out in the open, and I know that he really didn’t have a choice, I want to know him again.
I want to hear about what’s happened in the last nine years. How he feels since accomplishing his dream of playing for the NHL.
I want to know if he still dips his fries into his milkshakes, or eats his carrot sticks with peanut butter.
Most of all, I think I want this, whatever this is, to go somewhere.
“I think I’d like that.”