4. Carter
4
Carter
S he’s really here, and all I can do is stand in my kitchen completely losing my mind. I brace my hands on the counter, staring into my rapidly cooling cup of coffee like it has the answers. It doesn’t.
Tate is also zero help. He’s sprawled on the couch, one leg kicked up on the coffee table, completely unbothered, sipping his own coffee like we’re not in a full-blown crisis.
I exhale slowly, willing my heart rate to chill the hell out. “She’s in town.”
Tate doesn’t even glance up from his phone. “Yeah.”
“As in, right now.”
“Yep.” he popped his ‘p’ to be as aggravating as possible.
I glare at him. “You could at least try to pretend this is a big deal.”
He finally looks up, clearly bored as hell. “It’s your big deal Carter.”
I rub my face, dragging my hands down hard in frustration. “This is a nightmare.”
Tate snorts. “You invited her.”
Yeah, I did. Because I thought I was ready for this. Thought it would be simple, easy, exciting. But now that she’s actually here, reality is kicking my ass. She’s not just a voice in my headset. Not just a flirt in my chat. I have no idea what happens next.
Tate sips his coffee like he’s watching a live episode of my personal downfall. Asshole.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I know you’re planning something.”
His smirk barely curves, but it’s there the stupid subtle kind that says you’ll find out when I want you to .
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says smoothly.
Bullshit, Tate doesn’t always need a plan. He just needs a crack in the surface. One pause, one flinch, one breath too long,and he’ll take it. He doesn’t start fires for fun. Not usually. But if there’s already a little smoke? He won’t hesitate to fan it into something bigger. He says he hates drama, but I’ve seen the way he thrives in it. Controls it. Wields it like a second language. He’s not reckless. He’s strategic but only when he cares, that’s what worries me
I need to get it together. I push off the counter and head upstairs to my room, determined to not look like a disaster when I see her.
Tate, of course, follows. Not physically, he doesn’t need to. His voice is right there, trailing after me like a ghost I can’t exorcise.
“You gonna put on cologne too?” he calls lazily. “Maybe some of that boyfriend-smelling shit girls love?”
I flip him off over my shoulder. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.” He sips his coffee, now leaning against the doorframe. “Big moment. You should probably go all out.”
I ignore him and yank my shirt over my head, tossing it onto my bed. I grab a clean one, black, fitted, simple. Enough to look put together without looking like I’m trying too hard.
Tate watches from the doorway, slipping out another smartass comment as he follows me into the bathroom. “You’re flexing.”
I freeze mid-motion, glaring at him through the mirror. “What?”
“You’re checking yourself out. Flexing.”
“I am not . ”
He smirks. “You totally are. A little desperate, don’t you think?”
I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “Why are you like this?”
Tate leans lazily against the doorframe, amused. “I just think it’s funny that you’re treating this like a first date.”
I don’t answer. This isn’t technically a date. Haven’s just hanging out with me, nothing official, nothing planned beyond seeing each other in person for the first time. But it feels like something more. And no matter how much I tell myself to chill, my pulse is still ticking faster than it should.
I exhale sharply, heading back into my room to grab my phone, and fire off a text before I talk myself out of it.
Me : On my way
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. The room is quiet except for the sound of Tate’s coffee slurping echoing like judgment. I toss my phone onto my bed and take one last glance in the mirror. I look normal.
Tate snorts from the doorway. “You gonna finish fixing your hair, or are you going for the I-just-woke-up-like-this look?”
I shove past him. “You’re lucky I don’t have time to fight your dumbass.”
I grab my keys, shake off the nerves, and head for the door. Deep breath. I got this. But the second I step outside, I catch movement from the corner of my eye.
Tate. Also leaving. I pause mid-step, watching as he casually unlocks his car, moving with the kind of indifference that immediately puts me on edge.
My stomach tightens. “What are you doing?”
Tate doesn’t even glance up. “Leaving.”
I narrow my eyes. “Leaving where?”
He shrugs, pulling open his door. “Didn’t realize I had to check in with you before leaving the house baby brother.”
Bullshit, again. Tate doesn’t just go places, he’s a damn homebody. Which means there’s only one reason he’d be heading out at the exact same time as me.
I grip my keys a little tighter. “You better not be trying to fuck with this.”
Tate leans against the open door of his car, finally looking at me. “Relax.”
I can’t, because relaxing is impossible when I know exactly what kind of damn person my brother is. I watch him for a second longer, trying to figure out his angle. He just gives me that unreadable look and slides into his driver’s seat. I curse under my breath, shove into my car, and pull out of the driveway, my heart thudding harder than it should. I don’t know what Tate’s planning, but I know I don’t trust it.
I finally pull up in front of the Airbnb, hands gripping the wheel like a lifeline.
This is it, I can see the rental from here. There’s a car in the driveway that I assume is Haven’s.
She’s right there, and I am so not fucking ready. My palms are sweaty. My brain is running at a million miles an hour, still.
What if this is weird? What if she regrets coming? What if she takes one look at me in person and… I blow out a breath and drop my forehead against the steering wheel.
I need to get out of the car. I need to get out of the car, walk up to the door, and act like a normal human being. Any second now… any second. I lift my head, inhale deep. My phone buzzes.