25. Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
C arson counted the ticks coming from the clock on the wall. Seventy. Seventy-one. Seventy-two. Seventy-three. Seventy-four. Seventy-five.
“Okay, the suspense is killing me. What do you have to tell us?” Raegan urged.
“Your silence is making me nervous,” Hunter added.
Nothing could compare to how nervous Carson was for what she was about to do. It had taken her two weeks to build up enough courage to finally tell Hunter and Raegan about her self-harm. Her cheek was so raw, she had resorted to biting her tongue. Then, remembering how Dave had told her to control that habit, she released her tongue and clenched her teeth together, taking in deep breaths. Too bad she didn’t have a piece of gum to chew on.
And how could her hands produce so much sweat? She kept trying to rub them dry on her pants, but the polyester material wasn’t as absorbent as she needed it to be. Maybe she should have brought a handkerchief, because she could feel more sweat slide down her neck.
Hunter and Raegan sat on their couch in front of her, waiting expectantly. It felt almost formal. Carson was propped on the ottoman while Raegan sat on the edge of the cushion, back straight and still in her scrubs, having just come home from work. Hunter was slouched, arm on the back of the couch, in a T-shirt and shorts.
The waft of lasagna baking in the oven made Carson’s stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten all day, sick with anxiety.
Nothing came out when she opened her mouth to speak, as shame had a hand around her throat. The nerves poked and pinched up and down her body.
One hundred one. One hundred two. One hundred three.
Two sets of eyes continued to stare at her, both confused and shadowed with worry.
Just say it. You can do it. You practiced this in therapy. It’s one step closer to recovery. You can do it. It’s so simple . Carson’s silent monologue continued in her mind even as Raegan scooted a little closer to her.
“What’s wrong?”
The shame gripped Carson’s throat more tightly, and her eyes welled with tears. She didn’t try to stop them from spilling over.
“Oh, honey what is it?” Raegan reached out and touched her knee. “Please tell us.” Even Hunter was uncertain about what was happening before him—a grown woman having a breakdown in his living room. His eyes kept glancing at Raegan, as if she were going to explain everything to him, but Raegan appeared just as confused.
“I—I . . .” Carson hiccupped. Wow. She had no idea it would be this hard. Why hadn’t Dave told her it would be this hard?
Apparently, words weren’t going to work. So Carson resorted to the next best thing.
Gripping the zipper on her jacket, she pulled down. It wasn’t until she slipped her jacket off and began rolling the sleeves of her turtleneck sweater up her arm—revealing line after line after line—that realization dawned on their faces before quickly turning from bewilderment to shock, then grief. Then they were staring at her. Not at her arms, but at her.
Raegan stood and plopped next to her on the ottoman. “How long have you been doing this?” she whispered.
Carson hiccupped again, then cleared her throat. “Almost two years. I just couldn’t look at my scars from the surgery.”
Without hesitation, Raegan picked up Carson’s arm and touched her scars. Her delicate fingers, so different from Jax’s, felt like feathers tickling her skin. Carson held her breath as she watched her friend digest what she was seeing.
“Are you still doing it?” Hunter asked, now upright on the edge of his seat, his first responder mode triggered. Raegan’s head snapped up, fear encasing her features.
“No. No . I stopped a couple of months back,” she assured them, wiping away the last remaining tears from her cheek. “I’ve been going to therapy and working really hard to not relapse.” She cringed remembering that night between her and a screw.
“A couple of months. That means . . . did Jax know?” Raegan asked. Carson knew her friend was trying to piece everything together. She could see it in the way Raegan’s perfect brows bent slightly out of shape. How her lips had the faintest twitch.
Three weeks ago, Raegan had worn the same expression on her face. When Carson had come home from Texas, she’d received a text from Raegan asking how her trip went. Carson’s response had been simple: We broke up. Within half an hour, Raegan had walked through her front door and rushed to her side.
“What happened? Did his family do something?”
“No.” Carson cleared the tears from her throat. “His family was amazing. ”
“Did Jax do something?”
She shook her head. “I had to tell him that I couldn’t have kids.”
Raegan flinched, her lips twitching with rage. “So, he broke up with you? Because you can’t have children?” she hissed.
“No, I broke up with him!” Carson wailed, falling back into Raegan’s hold.
Raegan then stroked her hair. “I don’t understand. Why did you break up with him?”
“Because he wants children, and I can’t give that to him. How can I not give him everything he wants?”
“But what did he say?” Raegan urged.
When Carson pulled away again, she saw the spot where her tears had soaked Raegan’s pink scrubs. “He said that he was fine with not having kids of his own or being a dad. But Raegan, you should have seen the way he was with his niece and nephews. You should have seen the way he looked at me when I would hold the baby or play with the boys. He wants kids. And I won’t let him give that up for me.”
Raegan’s brows bent, and her lips fluttered. She was probably thinking it over, trying to understand. That was when Carson explained she was trying to give Jax time away from her so he could make that big of a decision, on his own.
“If that’s what you think was the right thing to do, then I support you,” Raegan finally said.
Now, Carson felt a wave of gratitude for what Jax had been for her, and answered Raegan’s question, “Yes, he knew. He found out and helped me start my recovery.”
“And you’ve been okay since the breakup?” Raegan asked .
“Surprisingly, yes. My therapist has given me a lot of healthy alternatives to hurting myself.” She tried to smile but failed.
“Oh, Carson.” Raegan flung her arms around her and squeezed.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Carson said. “I was embarrassed and mortified—”
Raegan pulled back, shushing her. “Don’t be sorry. All that matters is that you’re doing better and getting the help you need.”
“Really? You’re not mad?”
Raegan frowned, offended. “Of course not. I’m just happy that you trusted us enough to tell us now.”
Something shifted inside Carson, like a dense fog clearing from a dark road. Clouds dispersed to reveal the sun in the form of her friends—no, her family. They were her family. Always had been. And for the first time, she recognized it.
“Yeah, Carson,” Hunter said, puffing his chest like a protective older brother. “I bet it took a lot of courage to tell us. We’re going to help you get through it. Whatever it takes.”