Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Was Carson disappointed not to still be snuggling with Liz under the covers? Yes.
Was he relieved that she left? Also yes. He knew there was not a damn chance in hell he’d get any work done if she was still there.
He grinned to himself. Well, he’d be getting some type of work done, but nothing to do with Uncle Arnold’s business, that was for damn sure.
As much as it pained him to admit, Liz was right to leave.
It was difficult enough focusing on Arnold’s spreadsheets without her in the room.
His brain kept rewinding to the two of them in bed.
His focus shifted to said bed across the room, and an image of a naked Liz sprawled across a messy pile of spreadsheets popped into his head.
Oh, God. He was in so much trouble.
The knock on his door caused imaginary Liz to disappear. Dammit. “Hold on a sec.” He eased himself up off the chair, pleased with the fact that his recent activities with Liz hadn’t caused any setbacks, then limped to the door of his suite and opened it. Davis stood on the other side. “Oh, hey!”
“Hey.” Davis craned his neck and peeked into the suite. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Nah. Just working on Uncle Arnold’s business.” Or trying to, anyway. “What’s up?” He opened the door wider and tilted his head, inviting Davis inside.
Davis shifted from one foot to the other, then nodded and stepped into the room. “No crutches today?”
Carson grinned. Either Bea’s cream finally kicked in, or Liz’s application techniques were magic. “Nope. Not for now.”
“Good, good.” Davis’s eyes roamed the room, and he shoved his fingers through his hair. “Look. I, uh…”
Carson shifted his weight onto his good leg and studied Davis. Dude looked squirrely. Or possibly over-caffeinated. Maybe both. “You okay, man?”
“Sure. Yeah. What?” Davis’s eyes snapped to Carson’s. He gulped.
In the several times he’d interacted with Davis, he’d never seen the guy act like this. What the hell was going on? A pit opened in Carson’s gut. “Is Liz okay?”
“What? Why? What happened?”
Davis’s answer did nothing to tamper his feeling of dread. “I don’t know! She was fine when she left here.” He and Liz had just found their way back to each other. He couldn’t lose her again.
Carson rubbed at the sudden pain in his midsection.
“He deserves to know.”
“Fuck!” Carson whirled toward the voice, hissing out a breath when his thigh reminded him not to make those types of sudden moves.
The Major tsked. “Language.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Carson muttered, rubbing his thigh. “You gonna make me put money in your swear jar too?”
The ghost seemed to consider his question. “Is that a jar in which the swears are stored?” His jaw dropped. “There aren’t jars that create swears, are there?”
Davis rolled his eyes. “No, dude. It’s a jar you put money in when you swear.”
The Major’s face lit up. “Oh, a swear jar. As a deterrent. I like that.”
“Who makes you put money in a swear jar?” Davis asked Carson.
“Matty.”
“Ah.” Davis nodded. “Yep. Been there, done that.”
Carson looked between the two men before asking the obvious. “Is someone gonna tell me what the hell is going on?”
The Major got a far-off look in his eyes. “Where does the word ‘hell’ fall in the whole is it a swear or is it not a swear discussion? I mean, technically it’s a place. Well, not technically, technically. I mean, I couldn’t go there for vacation or anything—”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Carson bellowed.
The Major’s head recoiled. “Oh. There should definitely be some sort of shouting tax added. Especially when the f-word is involved.”
“Dude,” Davis hiss-whispered to the Major. “Not the time.”
The Major frowned. “I beg to differ. The proper time to set rules like which words count for the swear jar and what shall incur a tax are before we institute said jar.”
Carson gulped against the thoughts steamrolling through his brain.
That Davis was here to tell him something bad happened to Liz.
Or that she had second thoughts about last night and Davis was here to do her dirty work.
What if her plan all along was to have one last night together and then leave him behind?
Or maybe he was slowly slipping over the edge of sanity, and Davis and the Major were here to push him off. “What. The fuck. Is going on?”
Davis winced, seeming to pick up on Carson’s proximity to exploding, then finally got to the point.
“So, I know you and Liz are supposed to be soul mates and all, but you seemed to be having trouble not hating each other, so we may have sort of come up with some methods to get you two together that may or may not have been entirely on the up and up.”
It took Carson’s brain longer than normal to absorb Davis’s words. He said nothing about Liz leaving. Or her having doubts. Relief flooded Carson’s system like a dam had burst, and he sank onto the bed. “Thank God.”
“Wait,” Davis eyed him. “You’re not mad?”
“I thought something happened. With Liz.” He took a deep breath. “About her not wanting to be with me.”
“Oh, shit. No.” Davis shook his head, apology written on his face. “Sorry, man.”
“Well, I’m not,” the Major added. At the other men’s disbelief, he added, “Well, I am sorry that it caused you concern, but it did show us something very interesting.”
“That you two are complete assholes?” Carson said.
“Ugh.” The Major wrinkled his translucent nose. “Language.”
“Technically ‘asshole’ is a body part,” Davis said.
“Can we please put a pin in the whole swear-jar thing and get to the fucking point?” Carson wasn’t sure how long he’d last with these two before his head exploded.
The Major straightened his jacket. “I’m not sure how one puts a pin in a jar—”
“It means to move on and come back to it later,” Davis quickly added.
“Ah.” The Major nodded. “I see. Well then, as I was saying, I do believe Carson’s reaction showed us that he cares quite a bit for our dear Liz.” He grinned. “One might say a reaction of someone in love.”
Davis sucked in a breath and pressed his hands together.
Idiots. The both of them. Although, as his anger continued to dissipate, Carson had to admit that the Major might not be wrong.
He and Liz had said something along similar lines last night.
Not the love part, per se, but the part about caring for each other.
And no one else living up to the other person.
While Carson wasn’t sure yet what the future held, he hoped Liz would be in it.
But instead of admitting to anything else along those lines, he focused on Davis’s admission. After all, he wasn’t willing to let these two yahoos think they pulled one over on him. “If you mean the betting pool, yeah, we know about it.”
“Oh. Well, then…” Davis looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
As Carson studied him, there was still something extra squirrely that he couldn’t put his finger on. He replayed his words again. Then focused harder. “And by ‘we’ you mean…?”
Davis clamped his lips together, the squirrel-factor ramping up significantly. “Uh, me?”
“Uh-huh.” Carson narrowed his eyes and continued to stare at him.
“And Maya,” Davis added.
The Major scoffed. “Me and Clem for sure. But only after Arnold and Agnes suggested the whole thing. And didn’t you talk to Emily and Trent about it too? At least that was the plan.”
“Shut. Up!” hissed Davis.
“I will not,” the Major replied. “I think our newest bro deserves to know how many people care about this outcome.”
Carson’s head spun. That was a whole lot of what-the-actual-fuck to dump on a guy in under a minute. He grabbed hold of the lowest hanging fruit. “Did you just call me bro?”
“Yes.” The Major grinned like he’d won the lottery. “You will be an excellent addition.”
Carson flicked his eyes to Davis.
Davis’s smile was less enthusiastic and more like he had a toothache. “Welcome to bro time?”
“Do I want to know?” Carson asked.
The Major nodded like a bobblehead. “Most definitely. It is one of my highest honors to be a bro with Davis, and I cannot wait to make this a threesome.”
Davis palmed his face. “I told you not to call it that.”
“What?” Bewilderment creased the Major’s forehead. “We are three, are we not?”
Davis rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
“Then we are a threesome.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “How do you know I’ll stick around long enough to be part of your…bro thing?” Thank God he caught himself before calling it a threesome. There wasn’t enough mental bleach for that.
“Well.” The Major planted his hands on his hips and pursed his ghostly lips. “Liz, for one. And I could be wrong—”
“Frequently,” coughed Davis.
“—but I do sense a shift in you,” the ghost continued. “Purpose-wise.”
“How so?” Carson asked.
“You seem more at peace,” The Major said. “Initially, you wanted nothing more than to get out of here as quickly as possible. Now, however, it seems like you might be ready for something different. Some place different. Someplace like here.”
Carson wanted to argue. He really did. But he couldn’t. Because it was true. Small-town life was growing on him. Small-town Cloverfield life, to be exact.
“It is very similar to what I sensed in Davis,” The Major added.
“After I pulled my head out of my ass,” Davis said.
The Major’s brow furrowed as he studied Davis. “I was not aware you were that flexible.”
Davis sighed. “Not literally. It’s a figure of speech.”
“Ah.” Despite the Major’s utterance of understanding, confusion still clouded his features.
“It means I stopped working for evil and started working for good.”
“Ah!” This time understanding lit up the ghost’s face. “You switched from working for the Dark Side to the Rebellion.”
Davis gave the Major a suspicious side-eye. “Was that a Star Wars reference?”
“Yes!” The ghost’s eyes lit with excitement. “We just started. Clem said she has something special for tonight. Something about a gold bikini?”
Davis winced and gave Carson a headshake that was the nonverbal equivalent of you do not want to ask any questions.