20. Carter
TWENTY
CARTER
There’s nothing more beautiful than a sunrise as you’re crossing the border, running from a life that could quite literally be a death sentence if you’re caught.
After my talk with Jasper, I’m content with our plans, and I know that he’ll do absolutely everything possible to save me from a life of misery.
In the last few days I’ve been reborn, able to smile and feel happiness again, something I never thought was possible, but I put my trust and love into the very people who are my reasons for breathing fresh air.
No matter how much hope I’m holding onto, the more rational side of my mind still has plenty of control over my thoughts, and I won’t let myself be caught off guard like the last time we tried to run.
I’m determined to keep a balance, to recognize when shit is about to hit the fan, or breathe that victorious sigh of relief when we finally make it out unscathed.
While sleep is still a tall task, I’ve been able to doze off here and there, but now that we’ve crossed into Canada, handing off our perfectly polished passports without a single issue, it’s Jasper’s turn to rest.
My offers to drive were heavily shot down, something about me needing to relax, but not even a few eye rolls could convince my boys that I’m capable of pulling my weight.
Although they’re well aware of how much I hate being coddled, they still take their gambles, but how could I stay mad at my saviors? So, I settle into the passenger seat with my blankets and snacks, fully prepared to keep Tyson company as we begin our trek northeast.
“How far is this cabin?” I ask once we hit the road, ready to sprawl out in a real bed after nearly sixteen hours cooped up in this car.
“About four hours. We’ll stay there for the next two nights, and then continue on our journey with a new car, to keep from being tracked,” he says, and I sigh in relief, happy to be settling in one place, even if only for a short time.
“Who is this guy?” I wonder, the details of our housing, plans, and routes being kept very hush-hush, almost like Tyson is afraid to speak the itinerary aloud.
“An old friend of my father’s. They shared a hunting cabin, but I sold him the whole thing with a promise that I could stay whenever.
What I paid was more than generous, so I bargained a few things that’ll be waiting once we get there,” he explains, every detail of his plan well-thought out, and I only listen, trusting that he’s done enough to actually pull this daring escape off.
Nobody crafts a masterplan quite like Tyson, and with this being the most important mission of our lives, he’s covered every single base, issue, or blip on the map we could encounter.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” I muse, changing the subject as I dig deeper into his mind.
“Yes,” he answers, not even taking a second to ponder exactly what I’m asking.
“I didn’t even say what part,” I challenge, seeing how much it’d take to rile him up, but he stays calm, shifting his eyes between me, and the road.
“Doesn’t matter. I meant every word,” he shrugs, and my heart flutters, knowing that he always means every word, no matter the topic of discussion.
One thing about Tyson, he’s true to his core.
I’ve never doubted him, the things he’s said, or the actions he’s taken. Not a single part of him is capable of being deceptive, and that’s why he’s able to see into the darkest spaces of my soul, reading my mind like an open book.
“Will you really marry me?” My voice shakes as I ask, afraid of what he’ll say, or if he thinks it’s a ridiculous idea.
“Principessina, I’d take a trip to the nearest drive-thru wedding venue if Tyson allowed us to go to Vegas. Name the time and place, and I’ll fucking be there.” Jasper pokes his head between the front seats, clearly eavesdropping on our conversation, just like I did to them yesterday.
“Yes, baby girl. I’d marry you in a heartbeat. Nothing would make me happier,” Tyson answers, snaking a hand under my blanket until it lands on my thigh, making it seem effortless while he drives.
“In a tux?” I tease, craning my neck to look back at Jasper, knowing he’s the one who hates dressing up, wearing a tie, or anything resembling a suit jacket.
Tyson, on the other hand, enjoys getting cleaned up, even if it is just an excuse to wear every piece of jewelry he owns.
“In a tuxedo, a bright red Santa suit, or bare ass naked. Whatever you want,” Jasper laughs, leaning forward and placing a kiss on my cheek.
“All I need is the two of you waiting for me at the end of an aisle.” I shift my eyes between them both, waiting for someone to oppose, but neither of them falter, only following whatever it is that I want.
These boys would walk to the ends of the Earth, run through fire, or cross hot stones just to make me smile, and while I know I’m not asking for much, this is something I’m passionate about.
“Well, I want to do this right. I’m going to knock you out with a killer proposal speech,” Tyson smiles, his dark eyes alight with hopefulness, love, and desire.
“Yes, but I want to marry you before I die,” I explain, not sugarcoating my feelings or fears in the slightest.
While I do expect them to honor my wishes, I didn’t think ahead to realize that maybe Tyson and Jasper have fantasies about how they want their wedding day to go, too.
Tyson wants to propose properly, and Jasper probably would love to do a satanic blood ritual, but I’m not picky, all I need for it to be a perfect day is the vows, the rings, and of course, them.
“Carter, you do understand that is the very last option, right?” Jasper asks, wrapping a hand around my tangled hair, pulling until he disturbs the roots, and my eyes meet his.
“I do, and while I don’t obsessively think about dying every second anymore, I am realistic.
If something happens to me, I want to die knowing that I devoted myself to the two people who risked their lives to save me.
” I hold my ground, not letting them talk me out of this, or attempt to try and fill me with their relentless positivity.
There’s a million things that can go wrong, the exact reason why we have a backup plan, but we’d all be dumber than we were last time if we didn’t think about things from every angle.
“Whenever, wherever, my little wife. I’d marry you a thousand times.” Jasper releases the stranglehold on my hair, tenderly rubbing my scalp where he had the brunt of his grip, and I sigh beneath his gentle touch.
I’ve always felt the safest when both Tyson and Jasper have me in their embrace, and even though we’re trapped in a four door sedan, nothing compares to the fact that I can feel them both.
Our connection is stronger than ever, even where it was previously splintered, but with every breath we’re repairing those broken spaces.
“If we make it out of this alive, I’m holding you to that. Both of you.” I stare them down, ensuring they understand my words, and fear my wrath if they break this most sacred promise.
“Any other requests, baby girl? You’ve got us in the palm of your hands,” Tyson adds, and I mull it over for a few beats, until a devilish thought crosses my mind, one I know is a terrible idea.
“Get me drunk,” I say, and I immediately feel Jasper’s presence against the back of my seat, his body at full attention once again.
“Absolutely not! We’re running for our lives, and we need to be on alert,” Tyson argues, jumping into the protective beast that I love, yet despise at the same time.
“I wasn’t even allowed mouthwash, alright? God forbid a girl wants to let loose a little bit, locked away at a cabin in the woods with her boyfriends,” I sigh, upping the dramatics to the highest I can muster, and just when I think I’ve lost, a little birdie chirps in my ear.
“Just a couple drinks, Principessina. Tyson’s right, but you deserve to lose your inhibitions a little. Right?” He looks to Tyson, who has his eyes glued to the road, hand cemented to the steering wheel, likely running through the scenarios in his mind.
“Fine, we could all use a little fun. Nobody’s getting drunk, though,” he warns, and Jasper and I high-five like little kids who bargained with their mother for ice cream, but I couldn’t be happier.
This is exactly what I need, a chance to let everything I carry on my shoulders — deep inside my chest, and at the forefront of my mind — go, even if it’s for only an hour or two.
“Thank you, Tyson.” I press a kiss to his cheek, offering the slightest distraction while he drives, but he squeezes my thigh, a reminder that he’s got me, even when he’s otherwise preoccupied.
Another drop of humanity has been deposited into my tank, another moment where I feel alive, and a dash of adrenaline courses through my veins, willing me to find a reason to bring the beast out to play.
This may very well turn into a night to remember — if I deal the cards right.