13. Carter
THIRTEEN
CARTER
After a night filled with confessions, heartfelt moments, and a reunion for the ages, I find myself buried under two sets of arms, a heavy realization settling in that I actually fell asleep.
The sun is peaking through the drawn curtains, birds are chirping just outside the window, and a feeling of refreshment overtakes every ounce of my previously weighed down body.
Slipping from the muscular men on either side of me, I perch myself on the edge of the bed, unable to truly fathom that this is really happening.
Reconnecting with Jasper, and gaining insight to Tyson’s plans, must’ve worn me out, but this is only the beginning of a battle I declared.
Being back with my boys is a harsh reminder that I’m not a little girl who rolls over because of a threat, or lets any infraction slide without a stern punishment, and I’m slowly churning back to life, like a hurricane brewing in the Atlantic.
Day by day, my speed is increasing, the strength rebuilding in my core, all while I move further toward the destination I’ve chosen for catastrophic landfall.
“Baby girl, are you alright?” Tyson groans, his voice groggy from sleep, but I only nod, not wanting to wake Jasper, too.
“Surprisingly, yes. I can’t remember the last time I slept for more than an hour at a time,” I say, waving my hand, encouraging him to follow me into the bathroom.
He climbs out of bed in slow motion, a stabbing pain invading my chest as he stretches first, reaching for his cane before taking a step.
Between him and Jasper, I have many crimes to attest to, but when it comes to Tyson nearly being paralyzed for the rest of his life, that sin resides at the top of a very long list.
“You’re safe now, Carter. There’s going to be a lot of things you’ll have to get used to again.” He reaches behind my back, turning on the shower while slowly stripping out of his clothes.
Always a vision, I can’t help but stare as his bare chest is revealed, marveling at each muscle protruding from his large frame.
“See something you like?” He teases, dropping the shorts and boxers at the same time, causing my gaze to travel lower and lower until my eyes land on his rock hard cock.
It’s been months since I’ve seen the monster between his legs, and although my sex drive has been non-existent since leaving Jersey, my body trembles at the sight of him stark naked, a welcome heat flushing my cheeks.
“Sorry, it’s … you’re still built like a tree, Tyson,” I laugh, lifting the sweatshirt over my head, deciding in the moment to join him under the spray.
When the cool air reaches my skin, I shudder, hating that being vulnerable with Tyson means a heavy dose of exposure therapy, but after the night I shared with Jasper, I’m desperate to reconnect with both my boys.
“Come here, baby girl. Let’s take it slow.” He holds his hand out, clasping our palms together while I step over the porcelain, both of us using each other for support while we catch our balance.
“Did Jasper tell you about my nightmare?” I muse, wondering just how much he knows, because I meant it when I said I’d be telling the whole truth from now on.
“No, but I heard you. I was right outside the door,” he explains, and I nod in relief, thankful I don’t have to tell the story twice.
He presses my back to the wall, lightly splashing my skin without using the shower head, keeping the amount of water manageable, while avoiding my face completely.
“Does it hurt? When you walk, I mean?” I ask, looking up into his eyes while he dips under the spray, soaking his body and giving mine a break.
“It did at first, when I was weaker. The therapists really helped though, from the exercises to the encouragement. I had plenty of reasons to keep going, to wake up and do better than the day before,” he says, and for the first time, I steal a glimpse at his scars, three large bullet-shaped holes standing out on his skin.
Without thinking, I reach out to trace the one on his stomach, to feel the bubbled-over wounds, but he flinches, jumping backward before my hand can meet his flesh.
“Shit, sorry, I should’ve asked,” I stammer, averting my gaze out of shame, feeling like an idiot for just assuming I could touch his scars without inciting a trauma response from him.
“It’s alright, Carter.” He places his hand over mine, guiding my fingers to the first scar, the hole bigger than the rest.
The skin beneath the pad of my thumb feels tight, likely from the stitches, and the redness around the tissue sticks out against his tanned skin.
“This is where the bullet lodged against my spine. It took two surgeries for the doctors to break it down enough to be safely removed. Thankfully, they kept me in a coma through it all,” he explains, his muscles tense as he recounts the harrowing details behind the scariest moments of his near death experience.
“I’m so sorry, Tyson. I hate what my father did to you,” I sigh, the guilt rattling my bones, but he only tilts my chin, forcing my eyes into his.
“It’s not your fault. I need you to let go of this and stop feeling like you did this to me.
I survived and learned to walk again for you, Carter.
Everything I did, every breath and step I took in recovery, was for this exact moment when you’d be back in my arms.” He envelopes me into his chest, a sweeping sadness stealing the breath from my lungs while he holds me close, absolving my guilt-ridden consciousness as the seconds pass.
“You always believed in me, didn’t you?”
“While I had my doubts, I wasn’t as full fledged on sentencing you to death as Massi.
I had to hear your side of the story, but deep down, I only got better for you.
I promised myself that when I could walk, I’d come see you.
I jumped on that plane a week later,” he confesses, and I pull my head from his chest, taking note of his features while his eyes remain shut, head tipped toward the ceiling.
“You didn’t get better only for me,” I argue, not buying his sentiments for a second.
We were apart for six months, most of which he spent thinking I was a traitor, meaning there’s no chance that he dedicated his recovery solely to the idea of me.
“Yes, I did. Every fucking thing I do is for you, baby girl.” He tangles his fingers in my hair, a raging fire lit behind his eyes, forcing me to trust what he’s saying, a certain brand of sincerity that I can always count on hiding behind his words, working to accentuate them in a way that reminds me how genuine he truly is.
“Remember how when we first met you gave me a dumbass nickname?” I laugh, kicking each leg under the water while staying in the space against the wall I’ve deemed safe.
“You hated it,” he laughs, reminding me how closed off I was when we all met, the sassy little attitude I carried bringing us on a wild ride from the second we connected.
“I did … but I don’t anymore.” I turn my head to the side, smiling as flickers of understanding cross his face.
“You’re my North Star, the brightest star I’ve ever seen, but also, the smallest, most fearful star, Stellina. I’d part millions of clouds just to see you shine,” he whispers, his lips hovering above mine, but I can’t kiss him, not until I confess what I’ve stored in my heart for him.
“I love you, Tyson. Just as much as I love Jasper, but you … you rescued me. It would’ve been so fucking easy for you to go back home, to leave me here and let me live with the choices I made.
I don’t know what you see in me, but seriously, thank you.
” I press my lips to his, allowing him to dictate our pace, but he pulls away, sighing as he looks into my eyes.
“When I look at you, I see my future. Those rings, last names, and babies you were talking about … I see all of that with you. I want all of that with you, and Massi, too. We are a family, the only one that matters,” he says, his words breathy and vulnerable, solidifying that whatever happened when we were apart is behind us, and we’re looking toward a future together.
Tyson has always been able to read my mind, to look into the crevices of my soul and pull out the pieces that need extra attention, but right now, he’s slowly restoring my faith that the girl who used to occupy this body is still in here somewhere – all she needs to do is follow his call.
Reaching on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck, a small smirk breaking across my face as he leans in, pressing his lips to mine, immediately tangling our tongues together while he palms my throat.
I’m shoved against the wall, droplets of water from his hair cascading down my cheeks, but I ignore the wet sensation, falling into the rhythmic pace we’ve created.
I’m remembering every kiss we’ve ever shared, the tender way his mouth works with mine shooting little pricks of heat on every surface of my skin.
It’s always been mesmerizing, how vastly different my boys are when we kiss, and this time is no different, even as Tyson moans into my mouth, his cock smushed against my thigh while I dig my nails into his back, encouraging him to let his inhibitions slip, to allow those beautiful sounds to leave his lips.
The world feels like it’s at hyper speed, the time we’ve missed flying by at a million miles per hour, forcing us to keep up with an impossible pace.
“Will you do me a favor?” I break our kiss, feeling lost and dizzy from the way he made my head spin around, but desperate to get this out while we’re being open and honest.
“Anything.” He rests his forehead on mine, the two of us sharing breaths as our chests heave against each other in an attempt to force oxygen back into our lungs.
“Don’t call it rape. I’m not stupid, okay?
I know what it was, but when it comes to Vincent …
it makes me feel better pretending I was doing it for the right reasons, like it led me back to you both.
I’m not a victim, Tyson, I never was, and I sure as fuck won’t be moving forward,” I assert, rinsing my hands under the spray and rubbing my wrists, the thought of Vincent bringing a tremble to my bones that I’m afraid will never truly go away.
When I rub my skin, it’s a reminder that I’m still here, still fighting against the things that were meant to break me.
“You deserve to call it what it was though, Carter.”
“Maybe I do, but I’d rather forget it ever happened. Can we just … let it go? Please?” I beg, watching as he lathers a bar of soap, bringing it to my belly and moving in slow circles, being gentle and cautious not trigger my aversion to the spraying water.
“Did he hurt you?” He asks the same question he had last night, but my answer hasn’t changed.
“No. He was … ridiculously hard to please more than anything,” I joke, but his eyes go dark, not finding my sense of humor entertaining in the slightest.
“You have to understand that he needs to pay for what he did, right? Whatever you want to call it, wasn’t okay, even if he was kinder to you than someone else may have been,” he warns, the seriousness in his demeanor something I know better than to mess with.
Being bratty is one thing, but pushing his big red buttons is a recipe for disaster, something I’m not interested in doing for the time being.
“I know, Tyson.” I rake my hands through his hair, pushing the wet strands aside and caressing his damp skin, desperate to keep our connection open, every fiber of my body thankful to be reunited with one of the halves of my heart.
“Is this as far into the water you can handle?” He asks, lacing our fingers together as he spins me around, his back pressed against the wall while my shivering body rests against his chest.
“For now, yes, if that’s okay?” I ask, feeling small as he gauges my response, his pupils burning a hole into my skin, but he only meets me with the tenderness I’ve grown to crave from him.
“We’ll go a little further next time, baby girl. Come on, it’s getting cold.” I follow his lead, wrapping a scratchy white towel around my midsection and watching as he covers his wet body, tightening the fabric just above his pelvis.
Nothing would make me happier than staring at Tyson all day long, but we do have business to handle, kicking off a plan that I don’t have full confidence in.
The fantasy of running away is within reach, even closer than it was before, but I can’t let myself believe in the fairytale when I’m more convinced that it’ll be stolen from under us, just like last time.
The thing about reliving the same story, is that you have the power to change the ending, to give yourself a chance at the happily ever after, and I’m determined to rewrite history in our favor.
Maybe I can be the girl who gets the guys, after all.