Chapter Seven #2
“Though there is a mud room, hall closet, utility room, half a bath, and a storage room.” Carter said as he flicked his hand down the hall ready to climb the wooden stairs-
I tilted my head, “Storage room?”
“For gear and such.”
I frowned, “Gear?”
He turned then. He looked to the floor, the butterflies on his neck twitching, before he looked up and asked, “You’re aware that you’re in the middle of the woods?
I know you felt the cold, so logically you know that it snows here.
When it does, you need gear. To clear it, to play in it.
Also, you need wood for heat. But you also need to chop that wood. So again,” he shrugged “Gear.”
I gaped at him. Was it possible that he was not annoyed with me? But was instead fighting laughter? “Mr. Ryan, are you making fun of me?”
“Not making fun, just stating the facts, Miss. Thorne.” He turned around and started going upstairs. But I could see his shoulders shaking.
“You are.”
It was then that my short-lived vow came to fruition.
Carter threw his head back and roared with laughter.
And I felt like I just climbed to the top of the charts, won a lottery, saw a miracle of birth, and ate a hot fudge sundae all at once.
At the light tap on my door I leaped from the bed, and pulled them open.
To say I was bored was an understatement. There was nothing to do around here. There wasn’t a TV, not that I like watching it. But my books were still at the hotel, and I didn’t have my guitar with me.
“What’s wrong?” Carter asked as he saw my face. Or better to say the frown I felt pulling at my brows and lips.
“I don’t have my stuff.”
He looked around the piles of clothes that were still on the bed because I got so frustrated with silence that I gave up putting them away.
“I didn’t mean clothes,” I snapped.
Understanding dawned in Carter’s cognac eyes. “There’s a guitar somewhere around here. I honestly don’t know if it’s any good. But it did provide us with more than a few good nights.”
He motioned me to follow him.
“Do you need your own books, or is any piece of paper good enough? I have some notebooks in my bedroom that you can have.”
If he gave it to me, I would write my words on a leaf. I didn’t care, as long as it came from him.
When he glanced over his shoulder at me, I croaked, “I don’t have any special requirements.”
He arched his brow as if challenging my statement, but muttered, “That’s good to know.”
I didn’t rise to the bait. I followed him silently to the kitchen too scared that if I opened my mouth, words that I could never take back would tumble out.
No one had ever met my needs without me having to explicitly tell them. No one had ever paid that kind of attention. And no one had ever moved to give them to me.
As I watched the muscles of his back that were outlined under his black T-shirt that was molded to his body in a way I wanted to flex with every step, I realized that this pull I was feeling for Carter Ryan ran deeper than just a physical attraction.
Much deeper.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
As we came into the kitchen, I almost cried then and there.
“It’s nothing fancy, just tacos. I didn’t have time or the energy to make something more elaborate.” He gestured to the kitchen island that held much more than simple tacos.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered, my eyes glued to the feast that he made for us.
“Good,” he cleared his throat. Rounding the island, he pulled one of the high stools there and sat. Gesturing for me to do the same, he said. “We need to talk.”
I arched a brow at his commanding tone, and gesture, but did as asked, “Talk about what?”
He was silent while we dished the food that smelled delicious.
I couldn’t tell if it was so he could gear himself up for what he was going to say, or if he was giving me time to steal in order not to fly off the handle.
It was probably both.
When he was done, he sat still for a moment.
A look crossed his features. A look that captured me, and made me lean a fraction closer to him.
A look that felt like he was trailing his fingertips over my heated skin, gliding them down until he met- He shook his head in quick little motions breaking that spell.
He took a bite of his food, chewed while eying me carefully, before swallowing. “Ground rules.”
I was in the process of biting into the goodness in a form of Mexican food, but stopped mid-way, “I-”
Carter held up a hand, “Don’t blow on me, Dynamo. I know you don’t do rules, or structure, or any of the other normal shit, but this is necessary."
“Okay, let’s hear your ground rules, Warden,” I flicked my hand out to speed him up.
“No sneaking out or running away.”
I rolled my eyes, “”We’re in the middle of nowhere. I actually have no clue where you brought me. Why would I be so dumb as to try and sneak away?”
He hadn't said anything, simply stared at me.
I squirmed in my seat, looking down, “That’s different. We were in a city. And I knew where I was going. Besides, you always had someone following me, so it wasn’t like I was being successful at it.”
“No unmonitored calls,” He mercifully didn’t comment on my lame attempts of slipping past him anymore.
I tilted my head, “Unmonitored calls?”
“You call anyone you need to from my phone. We need to be able to see where that person is, and if there’s been a breach we hadn’t been aware of.”
“You think it was someone from my team?” My lips felt numb just by uttering those words.
“Harley, he was in your hotel room just moments after you vacated it. His window wasn’t long, and he timed it perfectly.”
I took a deep breath. It came out shakily, “Okay.”
It never occurred to me that someone from my team would be a part of whatever it was happening.
Up until now, I was convinced it was just a fan that wanted more access to me.
Someone who wouldn’t do harm. Not to me, or to anyone else.
That the label and management were just being overcautious when they brought on Carter. That, and they wanted to control me.
But sitting in that kitchen it was finally dawning on me that I found myself in a serious situation. One that was probably dangerous.
He gave me a second, and then continued, “Also, you can’t post anything on social media. People think that if they don’t post their geo-tag no one would know where they are. But, people with enough time and determination will and can find out in just a few well-placed clicks.”
“Cassie does my social media. I don’t know how it works.”
“Good,” he grunted.
“Is that all?” my voice was small. I hated that it was, but everything suddenly became real.
“As long as you follow those simple rules, Dynamo, that’s all.”
I arched my brow, and took a bite.
The moment the flavors hit my tongue, I closed my eyes, and concentrated on the goodness of it. It was the best food I had in months. No, years. There was no other way to experience it than to close your eyes and to savor it.
Opening my eyes, I looked at Carter sitting across from me, “Damn, you can cook. This is delicious.”
He closed his parted lips, and cleared his throat, “Thanks.”
“Seriously, this is sooo good.”
He didn’t say anything else. We ate in silence for a few minutes. It was awkward. I hated silence.
Shifting, I glanced up to see Carter focused on his food so hard I was wondering if he would pop a vessel.
“Who taught you how to cook?” I asked just to break the stifling silence.
He glanced up at me, pain slashing through his eyes, “My mom. But this was my Dad’s favorite.”
“Was?” I asked softly.
He looked down at the food spread before us, his brows creased. “He was killed on the job. He was a police officer. Went to work that morning like normal. Kissed Mom, gave hugs to us kids. And he never came back.”
I felt like I was going to choke on air. The pain that was lacing his words was too much. Fighting the urge to stand up, go to him, and wrap my arms around him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life up until that point.
“I was just a kid, but I’ll never forget the sight of my Mom kneeling at the entrance of the house, and begging the officers that came to inform her of what had happened to tell her it was a lie.”
A fist lodged itself in my throat, and my heart broke for that little boy. I had to fight the tears that threatened to spill. I knew he would hate them.
Not because they would show weakness, or that he would have some misguided belief that I pitied him. On some level I knew he would hate himself if he thought that he brought me pain, no matter if the pain I was feeling was for him, and not because of him.
“I’m so sorry, Carter.”
He looked up then, his eyes haunted by loss. “It was a hard time, but they’re all good now. It took a long time, but Mom remarried and is now finally happy.”
I didn’t know what to say, except, “That’s good.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, and lightly shook his head as he focused back on his food.
As the silence descended again, I shifted, “I’m sorry you grew up without your dad. I know how that feels.”
“You lost yours?”
“Never had one.” I chewed and swallowed before continuing. “Well, technically. There was a man who the state says is my father because his name is on my birth certificate. But, when he wasn’t completely ignoring me, which was half of the time, he was controlling my every move.”
“Did he-”
“Hurt me?” I asked as a matter of fact. “Sure. A couple of times he beat the hell out of me. But after he broke my ribs, I packed my bags and left.”
A spark flickered in his eyes. A spark that ignited the fire in my heart and body.
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“A baby,” he mumbled, looking at me in a way that made me squirm.
It wasn’t one of his normal scowls, or the looks he gave me that had heat pouring through me. It wasn’t even that gentle look he gave me a few times. It was a brand new look.
One that I would cherish forever. One that whispered to my soul.
It was a look that finally made me feel seen.