Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
CARBON
What the fuck was I thinking? I clench and unclench my hand, my fingers still tingling with the feel of her pretty chin having rested in them. What is wrong with me?
Torture. She thinks I meant torturing her, but what I really meant was that I must be a glutton for torture myself. Being that close to the fucking sun, it was stupid, I should have just walked away. I should have let it be.
For the last year, I have been surprised and allowed hope to bloom over the fact that she hasn’t ever told anyone that I track her.
I don’t follow her around, but I do track her phone.
And her car. And tapped into her security system to know her comings and goings.
Yeah, I know, it’s fucked up. I’m not a fucking moron.
I know I am a fucking problem. I know I am not right in the fucking head, but part of me kind of figured she liked it. Why else wouldn’t she tattle on me?
At least I didn’t go full creeper on her and tell her that I know each and every one of her shrugs and what they mean.
The double hard, is when she doesn’t know something, but if they shift a little forward with a slump, she feels defeated.
When she gives a small double shoulder, she is trying to deflect, placate, and hide.
When she lifts just one, in a half-assed way, she is trying to suggest she doesn’t care.
My personal favorite is where one shoulder slips forward just a little as her face lights up with a laugh that she is trying to pull back in.
I rub at my face. I need to pull back. I don’t know how to.
I start my car up, heading to the office, I look through the open door to see if Dad is busy.
He smiles waving me in. His smile drops when he really looks at my face.
I close his office door, then sink into the chair across from him, my eyes meet his. “I have taken things too far.”
Dad nods. “Okay. Alright. Tell me.”
My head dips as I spew all my guts. I start with the first mistake, putting tracking software on her phone.
I tell him about showing up places, just to see her face, how when she goes somewhere I have never seen her go before I make sure to pop by to make sure she is okay and if I can’t, I make a prospect roll by.
“Wait, you have the prospects involved?” he questions.
I shrug. “I run them, so… yeah. I mean, I only send them when she is somewhere new, and I can’t go myself. It doesn’t happen a lot.”
Dad drops his elbows to his desk, dipping his face into his palms. “Fuck. Frankie, you might as well rip the bandage and tell me the rest of it.”
I do. I tell him everything. Dad sits back when I am done, he scratches at the side of his head. “I don’t get it.”
“I know I need to sto?—”
“No. Not that. I don’t get why she hasn’t told Mint or Hanger. Why hasn’t she said a fucking word to anyone? Why when she sees you is she not confronting you? Her response to what you’re doing… it doesn’t make sense.” He tugs at a little section of his hair as he seems to think.
“I thought it was odd, but… well… I’m fucked in the head, so I wasn’t sure if it was actually weird.
” I shrug, almost laughing because I totally shrug more since she came into my life, and they have become quite an obsession for me to witness.
They do say you tend to mirror the people you care about.
“Frankie, son, can you do me a favor? And I ask this knowing it will be utterly painful for you.” He leans forward, hands flattening on the desk.
“I can try.”
“One week. One week without seeing her. I don’t mean without her seeing you, I mean one fucking week.
I suspect that girl sees you even when you don’t think she does.
So, one fucking week. You can track her phone, do all your shit, but do not go near her for one fucking week.
Nor send a prospect. Can you do that for me?
” Dad asks, a little worry and a little hope in his features.
I roll my neck and debate if I can handle that.
If there is an end date, I can. I have been apart from her several times when I have traveled for the club, though not normally for a week, but if I know in one week that I could rush out to get my fix…
I should be able to do it. “Yeah, I can do a week.”
“Good.” He stares at his desk a moment, then nods, but I don’t get the impression the nod is for my benefit.
“Why?” I ask.
“I want to know what she does.” He chuckles. My brow pinches, I don’t understand what he is getting at. His head shakes. “Think about it. You see it, you are just too scared to see it.”
Excitement inside me rears forward. “You think she likes me checking in on her.”
“I think she might,” he confirms.
“And if she does…” I don’t finish it, just letting it hang there as his head rocks.
She really does feel the pull.
It isn’t just in my head.
“One week. You sure you can manage that with her going out on a date?” he prods.
I frown. “Can it start after her date?”
“No.” His arms folding over his chest.
“Will you check in on her?” I can hear a hint of beg in my worried voice.
“I’ll take your mom out to dinner nearby and wander in for a drink. Play it off. Will that make you stay away?” he proposes.
“Yes. Snap a photo for me? I want to see what she picks to wear. She is really into clothes.” I rub my hands down my thighs, hating this.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He sighs. “You did the right thing coming to me. I am proud of you.”
“You know that you aren’t managing this normally, right?” I lift my brow at him.
He laughs, it’s thick and hearty, the total opposite of Mom’s. “My son isn’t normal and nor is the woman he is fixated on. So, I would argue I am managing this in a way that might save us all from implosion.”
“Fair.” I dip my chin in agreement.
The next night, I pace my living room, my eyes watching my computer screen tracking the dot telling me where Harry is. I hear my front door unlock. “Hey.”
“Why are you here?” I bark at Virus as he comes through my door.
“You were agitated earlier—seems you still are, so it’s good I’m here, with beer.” He holds up a six pack of my favorite.
“Fuck, yeah, give me one of those.” He pulls a bottle, using his keychain to pop the top before holding it out to me. I snag it, taking a long drag. He pops another for himself, dropping down on my couch.
“What is she doing in Mountain View?” he questions as he watches my screen.
“Guess,” I grumble. I knew he figured it out, but he has always given me space on it.
“Date based on this”—he motions to my pacing.
“Does it bother you?”
“That you track her? Nah. If I was in love with someone”—he takes another drag of his beer—"you better fucking believe I would be tracking the shit out of her. Besides, Harry rubs some people wrong, while I do believe she can take care of herself, I also read every part of the fucking report I made for you on her.” He leans back.
He didn’t even ask why I wanted that report, that was my tip off that he likely knew.
And yeah, I heard him say that word and I am not even going to address it because we both know it’s true, sue me.
“Which we need to talk about the fact that he is up for parole soon.”
I roll my neck. “I know. I’m keeping an eye.”
“Why do you think she hasn’t told Mint about it?” He eyes me.
I shrug. “Does Hanger know?”
“Yeah, he asked me for information on the guy’s prison sentence after his Old Lady told him about why they met. Harry definitely was not the one to tell him though.” He pushes to his feet. “Hungry?”
“No. There’s lasagna in there,” I tell him. “Does Hanger have plans for the guy?”
“Dunno. He didn’t share with me if he does,” he calls back from the kitchen. “I may or may not have underplayed his potential release dates. I figured—you know.”
Yeah, I know. He wants to give me the option to handle it, which I will.
Maybe it’s Hanger’s right, but she didn’t tell him, so I am not going to either.
She knows I know though. My phone buzzes with a text.
I open it to find a picture of Mom with Harry at the bar and a text ‘Look who we bumped into!’
My dad clearly took the picture, it’s Mom and Harry standing, an arm around each other smiling so big and pretty.
Harry looks phenomenal in a white off the shoulder cotton eyelet dress that hangs loose from her waist in waves.
She looks so fucking sexy. I love how girlie she is.
I see her leather jacket hanging over a bar chair behind her.
Virus comes back in, with a plate of leftover lasagna and a fork, chowing down. He looks over my shoulder. “Wanna tell me about that?”
“I agreed to not go near her for a week, but she has a date tonight. Dad said he would take Mom out to dinner and pretend to run into them. I asked for a picture. It seems that was an easy ask. Mom looks thrilled and I know Dad didn’t bring her in on the plan.
” I drop down on my couch, pressing my head against the cushion.
“You should text your mom back, it’s weird not to.” He pushes another bite into his mouth.
Me
Small world. Having a good night?
Mom
We went out to dinner at this cute tapas place. Sometimes your dad can be so romantic.
Me
I am glad you are having a good night.
Mom
Harry is out with some boy named Austin, he is cute, but he isn’t you.
Me
You say that like Harry and I should be dating.
Mom
I said what I said. Tell me she isn’t the prettiest?
Me
Have fun Mom.
Mom
Don’t dismiss me just because you can’t get your head out of your ass to see how fucking great this girl is. She could be the one if you just looked her way.
Me
Harry hates me, Mom. Stop holding hope for something that won’t happen.
Mom
Hate seems extreme, maybe if you were a little nicer. Don’t think I haven’t seen you ignore that poor girl…
Me
Goodnight, Mom.
Mom
Love you, my lovebug.
Me
Love you, Mom.
Virus holds his hand out, I hand him my phone, he reads through my tests with Mom as he chuckles. “Mama Carbon is totally team Harbon.”