Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Elliana
There is something weighing on me. Something heavy, something warm. Something that is snoring softly by the time I start to return to consciousness.
What the hell happened last night? I vaguely remember knowing I was going to fall asleep—as much as I liked the movie, there was the very real fact that I didn’t sleep much the past couple of nights.
And part of the reason is now wrapped around me. Did Carter spend the whole night in my bed?
On the one hand, it’s sort of nice. It reminds me of a puppy I had when I was little. How he would always find a way to snuggle up against me in bed. You can’t sleep with that dog in your bed, he’s filthy. Yet another example of Mom’s loving guidance. It didn’t matter that I was happy.
I think I might be happy right now. I wish I knew how to feel about that. Maybe I need to stop worrying about how to feel and just… feel.
Then again, what am I talking about? This is still my stepbrother. There is nothing normal about any of this. And it would be dangerous to let myself think anything different, no matter how much I’m enjoying something as simple as sharing my bed with no threats, no pressure.
Until the thought of pressure makes my eyes fly open wide. “Carter. Get up!” Sure enough, a glance at the clock tells me what I already figured out. “We are so late!”
I finally have to shove him off me when he doesn’t move fast enough. “Come on!” I shout as I jump out of bed.
“Breathe,” he tells me, even laughing a little—until he sees the time and finally starts hauling ass. “Jesus, is it really that late already?”
“No, I changed the clock to screw with your head.” At least I took a shower last night. One less thing to worry about this morning as I race through throwing on clothes at random. That’s one positive thing about basically having a uniform I wear every day. I don’t have to waste time thinking about what to put on.
Carter, on the other hand, runs across the hall to his room, cursing the whole way. There’s a lot of fumbling around going on, along with a lot of banging and slamming.
“My ass is already in a sling,” he shouts before slamming what sounds like a dresser drawer. “Kingsley is going to be watching my every move, at least until Dad gets back.”
I almost wish he wouldn’t mention what happened yesterday. Nobody forced him to fight those guys—except for the guys themselves, who I have no doubt were asking for it. That doesn’t help me feel any less guilty for being the reason behind it.
Stop. You are not the reason. The voice in my head sounds a lot like Maya right now: sharp, to the point, and very annoyed. You didn’t do any of this. It’s not your fault.
I really wish it was easier to remember that.
We’re out of the house in record time, skipping breakfast, jumping into Carter’s truck, and almost tearing down the driveway and out onto the street. “It’ll be fine,” I decide as the engine roars. “Nobody’s going to care if we’re a few minutes late for class. I don’t think we could get in trouble for that from the administration.”
“If anything, it gives people less time to give me shit,” he muses, leaning on the horn when the driver in front of us doesn’t take a left turn fast enough. “Everybody will be too busy taking notes and whatever.”
When I laugh softly, I catch him looking at me from the corner of his eye. “What’s so funny?”
“I just never would’ve imagined you going through the same kind of thing I do,” I admit. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said that same thing to myself. The less time I hang around before class, the less time people have to screw around with me.”
“Nobody’s going to screw around with you now.” He sounds grim, determined, and I wonder which of us he’s trying to convince. His jaw tightens before he adds, “After yesterday? Everybody’s going to think twice.”
I hope so, and for once, it’s not only for my sake. I should not feel protective of him, not after what he’s done. Not when so much of my trouble is thanks to him. But I can’t help hoping he doesn’t get into worse trouble than he’s already in. I hate to think of people trying to lure him into fights over me.
Even if my pulse flutters a little when I imagine it. And not because I’m worried or afraid.
But to think he’s ready to fight for me if it comes to it. Nobody has ever fought for me. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to sleep peacefully with him last night. Maybe that’s why I was able to forgive him yesterday.
He fought for me when nobody else would. Especially not my own mother.
There’s not much time to think about that, considering how fast Carter drives to school. He takes the turn into the parking lot fast enough that I grab onto the door handle for dear life. I can almost taste my own heart when I gasp. “Wow! Let’s try to make it to class alive.”
“I got us here, didn’t I?” He even manages to find a decent spot that won’t require too much running across the lot. He’s barely got the truck in park before I unbuckle my belt and open the door.
“Wait a second.” His voice is sharp enough to keep me in my seat. I turn to him a split second before he takes my face in his hands and covers my mouth with his.
The surprise takes my breath away, just as much as the sensation of his lips on mine. There’s passion behind it, and desire, and I don’t know how to feel or what to think. It’s nice—almost too nice, and that’s what scares me a little.
But in a good way. Like I’m about to get on a roller coaster.
He even makes it a point to trot beside me as we hurry to class. Like he’s making a point, ensuring everybody knows he’s protecting me now. I’m overwhelmed and, as long as I’m being honest with myself, a little uncomfortable at the attention he brings. Nobody says anything for once, but I feel their curiosity. Their judgmental stares.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned how to deal with, it’s people staring at me.
But usually when they do, I’m all alone. I’m not alone now.
“I’ll see you later,” he says when he drops me off. “Wait here for me, and I’ll meet up with you.” I don’t have time to ask him if he’s for real before he jogs off.
My head is spinning, and my heart is fluttering, and I really hope this isn’t all for show. I mean, even if it is, he’s helping me. Nobody is going to mess with me while he’s around.
But I realize once I slide into the closest seat to the door that I kind of hope he’s for real. More than kind of.
And when I leave the classroom and find him coming my way down the hall, I smile before I can help myself. I wish he didn’t look so much like my savior.
It’s a thought that stays with me the rest of the day as Carter chaperones me from one class to another. He hovers almost protectively once we reach the cafeteria, where we have lunch with the usual group of people. They all seem ready to forget what happened earlier this week—at least, they don’t mention it when we sit down with them and attack our food.
“Thank god,” Carter groans after sinking his teeth into an Italian sub. “We were in too much of a rush to have breakfast this morning.”
“Were we?” Wren arches an eyebrow at me, thanks to his choice of words.
“Yeah, we stayed up late, watching movies,” I explain. I shudder to think of the reaction we would get if everybody knew we slept together in the literal sense. After everything that went down this week? I would basically lose all credibility with the girls, who must still expect me to hate him. At least he doesn’t add anything to the story. He’s too busy scarfing down his sandwich, thank god.
To change the subject, I ask, “Have you girls ever watched the Iron Man movies? I really like them.”
“Oh, you’ve got her watching them with you?” Tucker almost looks jealous. “I can’t get Maya into any of the Marvel movies.”
“Next thing you know, you’ll be telling us you like watching football,” Maya jokes.
I can only shrug, wincing. “I actually do.”
For once, when everybody laughs, they’re not laughing at me. They’re laughing with me. I can laugh, too, and it feels amazing. I could get used to it.
I’m still thinking about it later in the day, after my last class. It’s completely foreign and probably dangerous as hell, but I almost feel hopeful when I spot Carter coming my way. “Ready to go home?” I ask. For once, I don’t dread it. Yet another miracle.
“Actually, no,” he replies with a frown.
There goes my heart, sinking as usual. “Oh.” He always has to keep me on my toes, doesn’t he? “I guess I could get an Uber, unless you think you could drop me off.”
His laughter is gentle. Not the snide, nasty laughter I’m so used to hearing from him and everybody else in my life. “I was thinking maybe we could get an early dinner. I know it’s not even five o’clock, but I don’t think I feel like eating macaroni and cheese again tonight, and it’s all I know how to cook.”
Something about his simple earnestness makes me laugh along with him. “Yeah, that would be nice. Even though I loved that mac and cheese.” It was surprisingly good.
Walking next to me out of the building, he jokes, “Yeah, you loved it so much you went into a carb coma. I guess I wouldn’t make a very good chef. All of my customers would fall asleep at the table.”
Why can’t he always be like this? He’s in a good mood, he’s charming, he’s just a normal person. There’s no anger or resentment, no acting like a big, bad man, so I’ll be afraid of him or intimidated by him.
He’s just… Carter. And I like Carter.
Maybe I need to have my head examined or something.
“What’s so funny?” he asks once he joins me in the truck.
I didn’t even realize I was grinning. “Nothing. I guess I’m just in a good mood.”
The way he smiles at that makes my mood even better. Jesus, what is happening here? How did things change so quickly?
All I know is, it’s not long before I’m sitting across from him at a table in the middle of the same Mexican restaurant where we had lunch with Mom and Paul before they left on their weekend trip. Before the fateful party. The night everything changed.
“Amazing,” I muse, dragging a chip through a bowl of fresh salsa. “It’s so much easier to enjoy the food when I’m not biting my tongue off. Mom really loves her margaritas.”
“And she makes it everybody else’s problem.” Something about the way he says it makes me laugh, and that’s refreshing after spending so many years being embarrassed by her. Having to hold everything inside, silently withering.
When I look up from the salsa, I can’t help noticing the way his attention has drifted over to a table close to where we’re sitting. I follow the direction of his gaze out of curiosity more than anything else and wish I hadn’t when I see a pair of girls giggling over their guacamole. They’re around our age from the looks of it.
Their shiny, blond blowouts make me touch a hand to my own hair. It looked pretty the day of the wedding, but it also took a ton of work from the stylist. Do other girls wake up at four in the morning to have enough time to look that nice? I literally can’t imagine putting that much work into it.
But when I see the way Carter watches them, it’s enough to make me wonder. Maybe the work would be worth it.
With a frustrated sigh, I roll up my sleeves again since they’ve already fallen down to my wrists and are getting in the way of me demolishing the salsa. I can’t help but glance over at those girls again. Their cute sundresses are basically the opposite of what I’m wrapped up in. They don’t have to worry about their sleeves dragging in a bowl. They’re probably not as warm as I am, either. I can’t blame it all on the spicy peppers.
“You okay?” Carter must have noticed me noticing them. He looks curious, but also a little concerned. I’m not used to people being concerned about me. It’s a little unnerving.
“Oh, sure. I’m fine.” I’m just sweating my ass off, that’s all. No biggie.
“I’ve gotta ask. Only because you seem pretty uncomfortable right now.” He reaches over the table to tug on my sleeve. “Why do you feel like you have to cover up so much? You must be dying in this thing.”
“I’m used to it.” And that’s true. I don’t really think about it anymore. At least, I only think about it when I’m in a situation like this. Comparing myself to the other girls, wishing I could have their confidence.
“You know, I am nobody’s idea of a wise leader or whatever.” He waves a tortilla chip, scoffing. “But I did hear something a long time ago that’s stuck with me. I think it kind of applies here.”
“I am all ears.” It’s not all the time he gets this serious.
“If you sit in shit long enough, you won’t be able to smell it after a while.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I know, it’s not poetry. But do you get what I mean? Just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean it’s good. You deserve to be comfortable and feel good about yourself.”
“I don’t like talking about this.” I can feel my walls going up, and the prickly sensation I was already wrestling with now covers my whole body.
“I hear you. I’m just saying, though,” he adds, “if you ever felt like you needed to protect yourself with all those clothes, you don’t have to continue. You’ve got me now. I’ll be your bulldog.”
When he snaps his jaw and growls, a giggle bursts out of me before I can help it.
Can he honestly mean that? Does he really want to protect me? I still have a hard time believing he actually cares. There is so much distrust still, and it’s not completely his fault. I know I shouldn’t carry the past with me, but I can’t help it. Old habits die very hard.
Carter has his faults, but he’s not one of those people who made it their life’s mission to humiliate me. He’s not them. It’s going to take time, but… “I want to let go of all the past stuff that’s been holding me back. I really do.”
When he smiles, it’s like the sun breaking through storm clouds, lighting up everything that was so dark only minutes ago. It transforms his face and leaves me with an ache. Longing. More, I want more of this. I want it so much, I could cry.
Of course, he’s unaware of the mess going on in my head. “Good. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
I’m so afraid to believe he means that. I can’t believe how much I want him to be sincere. The desire grips me, like a fist clenching my stomach tight. Or maybe it’s my heart that’s being clenched. A scary thought, but a very real feeling.
It’s a feeling that lingers once we’re home, full of chips and salsa, burritos, guacamole. “I think I gained ten pounds.” Carter groans before patting his stomach on our way into the house. “No regrets.”
“I was afraid they were going to ask us to leave before we cleaned the place out.” I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol tonight, but I’m buzzing, anyway. High off the energy between us. Buzzing over the idea of shedding some of the past. I’m not sure exactly how, and I know it won’t happen overnight, but I’m starting to believe it’s possible.
I don’t need to carry the past around with me—it’s so heavy, dragging me down all the time. Maybe it’s easier to imagine this with Mom being halfway around the world. She’s not around to remind me of all the things I hate about myself, which, of course, is the same stuff she can’t stand about me.
“All I know is, I’m going to sleep like the dead tonight.” He follows me up the stairs, and I can’t help it when my heart takes off faster. What is he thinking? Is he going to make it a habit, sleeping in my bed?
Am I unhappy about the idea?
No, I’m not, and that is more confusing than I have the bandwidth to handle tonight. There are still a lot of things up in the air, like what’s going to happen when our parents come home and whether he’s going to get in serious trouble for that fight.
But tonight, full of delicious food and feeling the closest to happy I’ve been in so long, I don’t want to think about any of that. Just like I don’t want to think about whether it’s a good idea for him to share my bed.
That’s why I don’t bother putting up a front when he wanders into my room instead of going to his own. “I’ll be a good boy,” he promises before I even think to ask. “I ate half my weight in tacos tonight. You don’t have anything to worry about except getting Dutch ovened.”
“Oh, gross.” I roll my eyes and gag. “You’re definitely selling the experience.”
Holding up his hands, he says, “I won’t pin you under the blanket… but I can’t make any promises about what’ll come out of me while I’m asleep.”
I should tell him to get lost, shouldn’t I? I don’t have the heart. And really, I don’t want to. Not when it’s so much better to crawl into bed after pulling my pajamas on and brushing my teeth. Not when it feels so natural, him bringing in his laptop so we can watch a movie together. And not when he wraps his arms around me. That’s all he does—it’s simple, sort of innocent, and neither of us says a word about it. We don’t have to.
If anything, talking would only ruin it. I would much rather lie here with my head on his chest than talk, anyway.