Chapter 12 Carter #2
“Thank you, I’ve got a good teacher,” she says with a hesitant smile, the corners of her lips not quite lifting all the way.
Her fingers fidget with each other. I reach out, letting my palm rest gently against the side of her throat across the small table.
I’m checking her pulse. She doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t pull away. Maybe she’s starting to get used to the strange ways I show I care.
It’s fast. Too fast. We just finished training.
She should be tired, relaxed. Not flushed, not trembling, not breathing like she’s ready to run.
“Your pulse is racing,” I murmur. “You’re flushed, but not like when I stare at you in your leggings. Your hands are shaky. Pupils dilated.” I pause, scanning her face. “What’s going on?”
She shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not.”
“Ben has been calling me all night, it’s… It’s stressing me out.” The picture of her ex buried alive with his hands and feet tied up flashes before my eyes.
No. I said I wasn’t going down that road.
“Why is he calling you?”
“I don’t know, to talk, I guess? It’s always the same thing…” She sighs.
“What do you mean?”
“He says I’m lost without him. That I need him. That I’m making a huge mistake.” My world tilts. The air thickens, heavy with the weight of her words.
“Is that how you feel, too?” I ask, clenching my hand, not breaking eye contact.
“No. God, no. It’s just…” She trails off, eyes dropping to her lap.
Frustration pulls at her mouth as her grip tightens around her phone.
“It messes with my head sometimes. The way he says things… It’s hard to stay focused on healing when he keeps coming back and stirring everything up.
” Her voice cracks on the last word, and her shoulders jerk like she’s been struck by lightning.
That fucking guy is disturbing her peace. And that sure as hell isn’t right.
“Do you need help?”
“To scare him away?” she asks, a brow raised on her beautiful, round face. I nod, jaw tight.
“Scare him off, talk to him, whatever you need. He has no right to keep harassing you,” I grunt, my voice lower now.
“You’re my woman. And I can’t just sit here and watch while he gets in your head, not when you should be eating this damn plate of pasta without a single worry in the world.
” She doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me with those deep, chocolate-brown eyes, wide, unreadable, and locked on mine.
“Did you say that I was…your woman?”
“I don’t kiss women lightly, Lana. To me, you’re mine,” I state blankly, even if I hope she understands how vulnerable I’m getting for her. That I’m hers too, if she wants me to be.
“Does it mean…that you are mine too?” Her lower lip trembles.
“Yes,” I assure her, resting my hand on hers, still clutching her phone on the table. The warmth of her skin sends sparks to my forearms, and my body answers for me with goosebumps. She blushes, this time with the right kind of pink.
Better.
“My offer is still on the table if you need me to take care of him. Nothing drastic, but yeah, you only need to say the word.”
“Thank you, that’s really kind of you to offer, but…
” I can already tell she won’t accept my help.
Lana’s on her own path, determined to face it alone.
I get that. Still, I can’t help but think that, eventually, she’ll need people in her corner, someone to lean on, someone to have her back.
I want to be that person in her corner. I want her to know she doesn’t have to carry everything alone.
That accepting help doesn’t make her weaker.
“I’ll handle it,” she says quietly, but her fingers are shaking. Then, she takes her glass of water and drinks the whole thing in one shot.
Trembling hands.
Fleeting gaze.
That’s not good.
At least I’m not the reason she’s shaken.
I’ll take that small comfort. But the thought of knowing that her ex is the one giving her sweats when she should be living in peace is making me see red.
As much as I want to step in and take care of it, I have to respect her choice.
She isn’t looking for a savior for now. Just someone who’ll stand by her side, and I won’t let her down by acting behind her back.
A few minutes pass before her phone rings again.
Glancing at it with furrowed brows, she looks back at me with a wince on her beautiful face.
“I’m really sorry, I…I have to take this,” she explains nervously. I nod as I watch her leave our table. I’m there for her, whether that’s silently supporting her through this or teaching her self-defense, or taking her hand in mine after coffee.
She’s mine and I’m hers.
That’s all I care about.
I’ll let her handle her ex as long as she wants. But if it ever gets too heavy, if it starts to crush her, I’ll take that weight off her shoulders and deal with him myself.
And I can be very persuasive.
LANA
The most handsome man I’ve ever seen, the one who’s been treating me like a princess and just casually declared I was his as much as he was mine, is sitting ten feet away while I answer Ben’s call, cheeks burning with shame for letting this man interrupt our date and not knowing how to make him leave without talking to him.
Ashamed for enduring his blows for years without fighting back.
Ashamed that even now, I’m letting him come between me and the most mysterious, kind man I’ve ever known.
I’m so ashamed, it feels like a thick coat of paint covering my skin, heavy, visible, impossible to peel off. Everyone can see it. It’s written all over my face. Shame. Five letters I can’t scrub away, no matter what I do.
Carter’s watching me like a bodyguard, his eyes scanning the room every now and then, like he’s always got my back, always making sure I’m safe.
Only, the one threat he can’t protect me from is hissing through the speaker of my phone.
I’m standing by the bathroom door, far enough not to bother other customers, but close enough to keep him in sight.
“Shit, Lana, it’s about time. I’ve been trying to call you for hours!” roars Ben, and I’m sure he’s running his hand in his hair right now. He always does that when he’s upset with me. “You aren’t picking up. It’s fucking annoying, Lana.” I want to tell him to go to hell. I really want to.
“I… I’m sorry, I was busy. I didn’t have my phone,” I mumble, sounding like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
How did I feel so strong, so fierce, just a minute ago with Carter…
and now? Now I feel like nothing. Small.
Pathetic. Insignificant. Like all the fight has drained right out of me.
“What if something had happened to Noah! You don’t even have your phone around to answer.
Just think, Lana, think!” he chides me with his superior tone.
Why is he doing this? Doesn’t he have plans in his fancy, busy life?
And why do I feel the need to justify myself?
I’ve got Noah’s custody. He should be thanking me for still letting him see our son after everything he’s done to me.
I never filed a complaint, but I kept evidence.
A lot of it. No one knows, but I took pictures and videos back when I still had the strength.
I hid them, just in case I ever needed to prove the truth.
I have leverage. And still, I feel as small as I did back then. At his mercy.
“He’s with his sitter, if anything happens, she has the emergency contact, and she knows Nancy is a block away.
You’re making me sound like…like I’m a bad mother,” I say between gritted teeth, trying to sound calm because I’ve never truly stood up for myself in front of him.
It doesn’t come out as natural, even if it seems easy in my mind.
“Your words, not mine,” he fires back.
What an asshole.
“I have to go,” I snap, wishing to escape his bubble of abuse and going back to Carter.
“I want to see you,” he murmurs, hating that I’m slipping through his fingers. His voice is slower, softer, laced with that false kindness he uses like bait. But I’m not a fool. I know better now. He doesn’t have a heart. I learned that the hard way.
“I..I’m busy,” I answer hesitantly.
“Are you… Are you with someone right now?” His tone turns sharper, harder. I clear my throat.
I hate conflict.
I hate conflict.
I hate conflict.
“I really have to go, Ben. Please, just drop it.”
“You’re fucking seeing someone. Let me guess, it’s that guy I saw at your place last time? You’re playing around with our son in your house? Are you fucking serious?” he yells at me ,and I pull the phone away from my ear to protect myself from his anger.
“What? No, I would never, how can you even say—” How can he even say that? I’m so careful with Noah, I may never find a partner again if I don’t find someone good enough to be around him.
“I’m coming tomorrow and we’re going to have a family dinner, just the three of us. I thought you needed time to think, but clearly you need me to know which way to go. I’ll be there at seven. Don’t wear something too slutty, you know I don't like that,” he spits, then hangs up.
“Wha—”
He ends the call before I can finish my sentence. He didn’t even let me refuse his invitation to my house. He didn’t give me a choice.
Don’t cry.
I stare up at the ceiling, forcing the tears back. I don’t want Carter to see me like this, like a failure. Like a woman full of words but too weak to fight her own battles. I slip into the restroom, hoping a splash of cold water on my face will do the trick.
“Are you crying?” a deep voice echoes behind me as the door clicks shut in the small space.
Carter.
“No,” I lie.
“But you have water in your eyes.” His quiet observation makes my heart clench, because only he would describe crying like that.
And I love that about him. But suddenly, I don’t feel well.
I just want to go back to Noah. Ben managed, in just a few words, to twist things around, make me feel guilty for hiring a sitter, for stepping out, for daring to believe I could be something more than a mom for one evening.
Even though I know he’s wrong, the guilt is already rushing under my skin like lightning.
I need to be with my little boy. Right now.
“It's not, I have to go. I'm… I'm sorry, I really have to go back home right now.”
“Okay. Let's go.” He nods without guilting me about my change of heart.
“I'm sorry.” I wipe a tear on my cheek.
“For what?”
“For ruining our date… I'm just sorry.”
“I can't fucking read you, sweetness,” he shakes his head, his cobalt gaze piercing mine in the mirror, “could you tell me what's going on?”
“It was Ben. He… Whatever, I just need to be home right now.” I don’t feel like talking anymore. I just want to be home.
“Is Noah safe?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“Yes, yes, it's not about that. Don’t worry,” I assure him.
“I'll get you there, sweetness,” he tells me, keeping his distance, as if he knew I needed space right now. Each time I’m heading in the right direction, Ben comes back into my life and confuses me. Always one step forward and two steps back.
“Thank you.” I’m grateful Carter isn’t questioning me more, even if I hate myself for ruining our night.
And just like that, we end up on his bike, my belly still empty from not eating the delicious pasta and holding Carter's sides hard, as if he were my anchor, the only one trying to protect me from the monster of my past. I want to get rid of Ben. I want to heal. I want to do this by myself, but I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be able to do it on my own.
Perhaps the time has come to accept help.
Perhaps that’s what has been missing all along.
And as I think about this and what kind of future I could offer to my son if I learn to trust again, I hold on to Carter just a bit tighter than I should.