Chapter 10 The Headlamp #2
Carter furrows his brow and tilts his head to the side.
“Where would you get that idea? Of course not, Becky.” He lets out a deep sigh.
“That’s part of why I’m so embarrassed.” He steps away from me and begins to pace, but stops and turns back to me again.
“Do you remember the night of my birthday dinner? I was acting off, which I know wasn’t fair to you. ”
I only have to think for a second for the memory to hit.
“Ugh, yeah. School had just let out, so I was exhausted but in a fantastic mood, but you kept shutting down all conversation after you insisted on taking me out to The Chophouse.” It was disappointing.
I would have rather eaten the gum under park benches with a happy Carter than the steak with that closed off version.
Another failed date in our all-too-short summer together.
I lift my head from where I’m examining a crack in the pavement, and our eyes meet, his full of regret.
“That was the night I was rejected. I didn’t even come close to qualifying in the preliminary meeting.
It was my birthday gift to myself. To go to you and tell you that I was becoming a business owner.
Instead, they practically laughed me out of the bank. ”
“Wait, Trev laughed at you?” My melancholy gets sparked into anger for Carter. Trevor is supposed to be his best friend.
“No, no.” He’s quick to reassure me. “His family wouldn’t let him work with me.”
I start to protest again when he continues, “I didn’t fight them on it, though. I knew there was a chance they’d have to reject me. I didn’t want to put him in that situation. He’s a good guy.”
“That makes sense.” I respond absently. Personally, I disagree. Not that Trevor is a bad guy, but I’ve been watching that man wear a mask for far too many years. I don’t like that I don’t really know him.
We’re both pacing now, moving aimlessly across the yard. We were presumably thinking about the same situation—a failed attempt at a massive loan.
I wonder if the situation would have been different with Trevor handling the loan?
I remember the week, not just the night, clearly because Carter was unlike his usual self.
He had this nervous, excited energy, bouncing off the walls more than usual.
Then, one morning, the day of our date, he left for work carrying his suit bag.
He was so happy, giving me a deep, passionate goodbye kiss before heading out.
Then we met at the restaurant, and he was more like a man drowning.
He looks worse now.
Carter has always been a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky person. He’s been my balance over the last few years. I’m snarky and serious, and he would bring out the happy and playful. The contrast in our moods made his behavior that night all the more memorable.
"You’re talking a lot without telling me anything about what you did." What is he avoiding?
“That night, we talked about our future, as I usually love to do with you. But the talk of our wedding planning and buying a home with a yard for our future family, it just brought home how unlikely it is we will even be able to have a home with our current income.”
We’ve slowly wandered over to his truck by this point.
I stand by as he pulls down the tailgate for us to sit on.
For a second, he reaches out to me on instinct, as if to lift me up like he’s done a hundred times before.
When his hands hover just over my waist, we both freeze.
I look up into his eyes while he looks down at me and give him a brief nod.
He helps me up, leaving his hands clasped around me for a beat, squeezing me before he lets go and steps back, his eyes still locked on mine.
His hands clench into fists before they disappear into his pockets.
I shake off whatever—that—was, and consider his words. “I could always get another job? I mean,” I correct quickly, “I could have.”
“I know how important teaching is to you, and I knew you’d say something about another job.
” He steps up closer to me—close, but not touching.
“I didn’t want that kind of pressure on you.
” He breathes out between us, quiet yet firm.
He stands between my thighs, close enough for me to feel the heat of him.
He leans in for a moment, then sways back a step, staring at my legs. “So, I thought I would start working longer hours. Get more money put into my account and start building my credit.” He says while his gaze drifts up and down my legs, and back up my body pausing on his favorite places.
I shiver.
And then his words penetrate my temporary haze. Aha! I saw the results of these choices but I didn’t know his reasoning.
My moment of clarity is overshadowed by another realization. If he could keep this from me, it’s no wonder he was able to hide her.
I cross my arms to block his perusal from continuing.
It doesn’t work.
Unaware of my inner turmoil, he continues looking and talking. “I started cutting back on buying anything that wasn’t essential and doing all of the things that you’re supposed to do in these situations, but it felt like my bank account was growing at a snail's pace.”
“You did everything except talk to your fiancé.” I interrupt.
He freezes and finally looks back up at me.
“Yeah.” His voice is raspy with his quiet confession.
“Everything except for that.” Like I broke some kind of trance, he takes a step back, looks down at his feet, and kicks an imaginary rock before he continues.
“I just wanted to take care of you, take care of us and our future,” he shrugs, almost like he’s trying to play it off like no big deal.
“But, well, I don’t have anything else going for me, Becks.
I have my high school diploma and experience as a mechanic, but I want, no need to take care of you, to set up our future. ”
“First of all, don’t talk about yourself like that, Carter.” I’m getting angry in his defense. He was always exactly who I wanted him to be.
Still looking down, he continues. “So I just kept working. I put my head down and I kept working and seeing no progress. I felt like I was suffocating under my own expectations and failures and that’s when–” Another look at me, his face and voice both dripping in guilt. “That’s when Taylor showed up.”
My stomach drops just from hearing her name in his voice, so I build up my shields, bite the bullet, and settle into the story.
“Tell me.”