Chapter 10 Carter #3
"You’re not perfect. Neither am I. But I’d rather have your truth than someone else’s lies,” she murmurs as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand.
“I spent years suffocating when I should have been living the best years of my life. Now… Now I want to breathe, to feel alive. I’m done pretending that my life is perfect because it isn’t.
I don’t need perfect, Carter. I need honesty.
And if that means living in the gray, rather than the black and white everyone else tried to shove me into, then so be it,” she says, her hands trembling before she crosses her arms.
Glancing away, she lets out a trembling exhale.
“Would… Would you run away if you knew I wished I could have killed him back then? Would it make your idea of me change? If so, then it’s better that whatever we are stops now.
” She nods a few times, and I stare at her, mesmerized by her strength and character, by the way she doesn’t let me or her past define who she wants to be.
“No, not knowing what you’ve been through. It’s logical you thought about it,” I say, hoping she’ll see that I’m not running. I’m right fucking here and I’m not going away.
“Would you run away knowing I killed my father the day of my eighteenth birthday to avenge what he had done to my sisters and mother?” There, I said it.
A silence as loud as a bomb fills the room.
She shakes her head, her eyes becoming glossy.
“Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you.
I won’t spare any detail, I won’t try to sugarcoat it, but I think some things are better left unsaid.
I don’t do what I used to do for the club.
I protect people now, I’m not… I’m not doing this anymore, but I might still do it one day, for the club's sake. And you have to know that.” She nods, exhaling as though she'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“As long as you keep me and my son safe, then-”
“I will.”
“Then nothing changes.”
“If you’re ever scared of me, if you’re-”
“I won’t, Carter, but if this day ever comes, I will push you away so fast you won’t even have the time to say goodbye,” she states, swallowing hard, and I sense that the admission hurts her.
She doesn’t want this to happen, but if it does, she’ll have no issue cutting me out of her life. And I admire that. I admire her.
“I won’t expect any less,” I tell her, my heart coming back to a normal pace while my senses are on alert as if our conversation had sealed something between us, something deeper I never expected to share with any other human being.
“Good.” She chuckles, wiping her eyes, and looking up as if she could put the water back in her eyelid.
“Now, let’s just, can we talk about something else?
I…I didn’t expect our breakfast to be this intense.
” I try to smile, but I notice her eyes creasing like she knows what I’m trying to do.
I stand and circle the island, stepping closer to her.
Human touch.
I need human touch and I need it with her.
She opened up to me, and I want to take her in my arms and kiss her tears, make them go away. She steps back, her hands falling back on the sink as I get closer, slowly enough for her to push me away if she wants too.
“Thank you for telling me that,” I say, the air turning heavy, compact, as if the energy between us could be cut with a knife.
“Can I touch your face?” She bites her lip and nods slowly, her white T-shirt melting on her skin as she looks up at me, her chocolate eyes threatening to drown me in them.
I inhale deeply and lift my hands, cupping her face as gently as my large calloused hands can.
Then, with my thumb, I stroke her lower lip, the softness of her skin reminding me of velvet.
“I want to kiss you,” I murmur, realizing how close we’ve gotten, our shirts brushing together, her hand drifting from the sink to rest on my bicep.
“I…I want you to kiss me,” she whispers, and I get closer, one hand cupping her cheek while the other lands on her waist.
Time stops as I close the gap between us, and our lips meet softly.
Her mouth is warm and tender, and for a moment, everything fades.
Her fingers tighten on my arm, and I keep my eyes shut, savoring the taste of the stunning woman I’m holding in my arms and that I can now call mine.
Our chests rise and fall together, slow and synchronized, like we’re learning to breathe in unison.
I cradle her face, my thumb brushing her damp cheek.
I let go of her tender lips, and our foreheads connect.
Lana.
Four letters now tattooed on my heart.
LANA
My body is like a cloud, resembling more cotton candy than actual bones and skin. My knees are barely holding me, and yet I'm not worried about falling because I know that Carter will catch me.
“I…I really liked it,” I whisper, his body still so close and the urge to tell him how I feel overpowering me.
Carter can't read emotions like people usually do, but I want him to know exactly the effect of what he does to me.
I know I'm blushing and probably looking like a full-on tomato right now, but I couldn't care less.
He won't make fun of me for this kind of thing.
“I've been wanting to do this for a while,” he admits, his voice so low it sounds like rocks crushed together.
I smile, his softness mixed up with his cold ways, and I don't know why this combination just became lethal to me.
Perhaps Carter hasn't been lucky with girls before, but to me, it's actually insane that no other women have been able to read him like I do.
To connect with him, other than just lusting over his God-like physique.
Carter's kind, strong, safe. He's an iron vault, but the inside is much more complex than what meets the eye.
“Would you like to watch a movie with me…? We won't have the time to watch it all, but maybe we can start one and finish it next time?” Next time. I don’t want him to leave.
I want us to keep on talking or just share silence together.
I want him to stay here, next to me, like a sort of talisman, making my heart fuller and my mind calmer.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, stroking my arm as he slowly steps back, looking at me with a surprising warmth I hadn’t seen coming.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself after flying too close to heaven, then circle around him toward the sofa.
He follows me with our mugs in both hands.
He seems so, so…normal here. My heart quickens at the sight, as if I’d just remembered that a predator was roaming through my home, when he was never meant to leave the wild.
Carter isn’t the average guy. He is a member of an MC club.
A gang. An organized crime ring. There’s no point denying it.
I should be terrified.
I really should.
Even knowing about his past, about his true nature, I know I should be scared.
That's the logical path to take, but it just doesn’t work for me.
I’ve been through the worst from the best man I thought I knew.
And now the most unhinged, dark, and twisted man is my only oblivion, but I know in my bones he would never hurt me.
I have more certainty about this than about the Earth being round.
Ben always had this sneaky feel about him.
Carter’s different, direct, unapologetically strange, and still, I only want him.
If only he had hurt a woman or a child, then I would have stopped this right away.
But his world is his own, with different rules than the ones I was accustomed to.
I’d trust him with my life and my son’s. So fear isn’t it.
The only thing terrifying me is that even knowing it all, my heart is beating for him.
I’m finally trusting someone, learning to open up again.
Perhaps I need to accept that light can bloom from the darkest place.
And maybe, Carter is the darkness that’s necessary for me to find my way back to myself.
I’m falling for him. I just know it. Like you know when you're about to be sick after walking without a coat on. You just know, even if it’s early.
Even if no words had been said out loud.
Carter is holding my heart in his hands, and I have the feeling that I’m holding his as well.
We’re two people doomed by life, forced to rise from the ashes and still, no amount of trauma, past, and baggage can tame the light we’re creating.
I sit on the sofa, my legs snug under me, and pat my side because Carter is still standing next to it after putting the mugs down on the table.
“I never watch movies with people,” he says abruptly.
“Why?”
He winces. “I never thought about sharing that with anyone.” He sits next to me, his thigh brushing mine.
He doesn't grab my leg or kiss me passionately; he doesn't even try to flirt or push me for more. As if he knew the step we had taken was already monumental. Earth-shattering. A no way back kind of moment. Perhaps he’s processing it as well as me.
“Well, I'm glad we both like movies then.” I smile, my hand hesitantly playing with his fingers, testing the waters.
He inhales deeply and sits back on the sofa slowly, his fingers lacing with mine until he takes control of it and lets his thumbs stroke the back of my hand.
“I was thinking about this one,” I tell him, pointing at the screen where a man and a woman are walking in New-York City.
A 2000s classic I enjoy watching once a year.
“What’s it about?”
“She’s a journalist writing an article on this guy who’s like a love doctor, a coach helping men land dates with women way out of their league. It’s really funny.”
“Sounds great, yeah.”
“Great,” I echo, pressing play and settling back on the sofa. As I do, I discreetly grab my phone and reply to Ben’s text.
Lana
I'm not home. Don't show up.
A little lie. I don’t have it in me to call him and confront his stubbornness to come back here again.
But I don’t want him here. Especially now.
I’ve never stood up to him, so even a lie feels like a small step in the right direction, one that edges him further out of my life.
Maybe one day I’ll find the courage to get the closure I need.
But for now, a lie is all I have the mental strength to offer.
“You okay?”
“Yes, I just remembered I forgot to take care of something.”
“If there's anything I can help with, just tell me and I'll do it.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, blushing at the sight of this kind man looking at me like I'm holding the moon in my hands.
I had no certitude that I'd ever fully move on from my past, but this, us, in my living room with coffee and a movie, feels like a step.
One little step I have finally taken from the dark path I was on.
The mud and the blood will still cover my body, but it will dry, and eventually, one day, the crumbs of it will fall, and I'll get to my final destination.
Maybe one day.
It’s all up to me. I know I have all the cards in hand to move on, but life isn’t a rom-com with a certified happy ending, and I’m not a perfect character made out of a screenplay. I have triggers, wounds, and memories haunting me at night. It’s all still in there.
After an hour of watching the movie like he’s always belonged here, the soft chime of my alarm reminds me it’s time to pick up Noah.
Carter rises, a spark in his eyes I haven’t seen before as he scans me.
He grabs his cut, digging into the inner pocket, while I stand there fidgeting like a fourteen-year-old, wondering if he’ll kiss me again before he leaves.
“Here, for your son,” he says as he gives me a bag of Skittles. My lips part in response. He thought about Noah.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to. It's really nice, he loves Skittles even if he’s only allowed a handful.”
“Good,” he nods, “I took some for a friend too.”
“A friend?”
“I’m visiting Ash's mother at the nursing home this afternoon. It’s gonna be tough for him and I know that’s his favorite candy, so.” Wow. Carter isn’t just a gentleman with me. He is also a good friend.
“That’s really thoughtful of you,” I mutter, struggling to understand how such a walking contradiction can exist in our world. Cold yet warm. Rough yet gentle. He shrugs before stepping to the door, my heart pumping hard under my chest as if I was afraid of never seeing him again.
“Thank you for the pancakes and the movie. I had a great time with you, sweetness. You made my day,” he says blankly, his tall figure towering over me.
“Thank you for coming,” I murmur, feeling small all of a sudden. His hand rises and lands on my cheek, cupping it gently.
“We could train again next week, if you want. I could show you more defense tactics,” he offers, his voice breathy, oddly uneven.
A self-defense class? Again? I’d like that.
A lot. Even if my motives have slightly changed.
Learning to defend myself is one thing. Getting on a mat with Carter is definitely another, and I hate to admit that it overtakes the first reason.
“Yes, that’d be great. How ‘bout Friday night?”
He swallows. “I’ll come pick you up at seven.”
“It’s a date.” I blush as he strokes my skin with his thumb.
“It is,” he grunts, and the sound of his deep voice shakes me to my core.
“Can I kiss you one more time? I need my fix before next week,” he states, like he’s just talking about the weather. I nod, unable to find my words.
And then he kisses me. Only this time it’s less gentle than it was an hour ago.
His lips devour mine with strength, taking control over me and letting my body weaken at his intensity.
It only lasts a few seconds, but it’s enough to leave me panting at my front door while I watch, speechless, as Carter walks to his bike after murmuring to my ear, “See you soon, sweetness.”
Carter, what are you doing to me?