Carter
Over the next few weeks, we get the business up and running. It's already become clear how much people trust them and genuinely want to throw business their way. I've spent so long in my own little Boone-hating bubble, that I failed to see how much people like him. I honestly thought when we were over, he went on a one-man heart-breaking spree, boldly going where only a wrecking ball can go. I thought I was the start to a string of girls—that he hurt everyone, betrayed everyone. I'm beginning to realize I was wrong about that and a lot of other things.
It's been different with him this time. He's devoted to a relationship between us. I can't help wishing we're going to experience the unstoppable, soul mate type of love I've witnessed between Gabe and Kara.
He holds my hand and kisses me out of nowhere, he makes me laugh and tells me I'm pretty, he leans on me for opinions and gives his own, and he tries to understand everything I say even when I don't understand it. He never questions why I won't commit to the whole boyfriend thing or why I can't tell him I love him. It's as if he knew I'm not ready and he's giving me the room to heal and learn to trust him again, giving me the chance to feel something entirely new toward Boone: respect.
I want Kara and Gabe to have respect for him also, so I invited them to visit our store so they can both see it and spend time with Boone. Kara saw it sometime last week, but it was still a disaster zone. After their tour, we're meeting Officer Taft down at the police station who to see if they've come any further with finding the addict. Boone is going with us, which will be interesting.
We're all frustrated there hasn't been any answers about the guy, which is why Gabe set up the meeting and took today off. I'm just so tired of being constantly feeling terrified and paranoid. I'm in a constant state of unrest, as if I don't move or change my mind, he'll show up again. He changed the way I see the world and the way I fear it.
I shake the thought away. The man managed to cause so much damage, despite being in my life for just a few minutes. I've been letting him torture my mind longer than he physically tortured me. I'm letting him win when I should be working toward feeling strong and safe again.
"Wait until you see it," Kara is gushing from the front seat. "Carter has done amazing. I think she might've found her calling. Hey, Carter, you should think about offering interior design advice. You would be good at it—like Joanna in Fixer Upper."
Kara's been talking non-stop since breakfast this morning, trying to lighten Gabe's mood and my apprehension. After years of forced dinners with our dad, you'd think we'd be pros at handling awkward situations, but no. We're as lost as ever.
I don't answer because I'm too busy texting Boone: I hope you're wearing your lucky underwear and a suit of armor. We're turning into town and this is going to be fun,
I immediately get a reply, I'm not wearing either.
Then another, Actually, I'm going commando ;)
Then, This is all going to be fine, Junebug. Promise.
When we get there, he's waiting for us in front of the store. I hold my breath as Gabe pulls into the spot directly in front of where he's standing. Since Gabe's a doctor, I'll try to pretend he isn't aiming for Boone. If Boone shares the same thought, he doesn't show it. Instead, he surprises us all by walking to Kara's door and opening it.
"Hey, Kara," he says. "Good to see you."
Kara smiles at him, looking a little relieved. I'm already halfway out of my seat, but Boone pulls my door open, too, and leans down to kiss my cheek. "I'm back to trying to impress. Am I doing good?"
I think about how he's sans underwear and holding doors open like a gentleman. "Yes. But again—"
"How am I going to know if I'm impressing people if I don't ask?" he points out, knowing exactly what I was about to say.
"I think the word we're missing here is also the lesson, Boone," I say, pulling back. "Humility. Practice it and maybe someone will like you."
He presses his hand over his heart. "Are you saying I'm disliked?"
I'm too much of a rotten liar to answer him.
Boone laughs and rubs his hands together conspiratorially. "My plan has finally been accomplished. Total and complete world domination through the power of my irresistibility."
I can't help but grin, even though Gabe is watching us like a hawk. Kara is clearly trying to talk him off his papa-bear sized cliff. Boone composes himself and walks up to Gabe, hand out. "Glad you could come by, Gabe."
Gabe takes his hand. "I wanted to see the place Carter's always talking about."
"I don't talk that much about it," I grumble.
Gabe cracks a smile. "You sort of do. Dusk till dawn and then some."
I shrug. "You're probably right."
"He is," Kara supplies.
Boone's hand slips into mine as we walk inside, which is something he always does. It's almost muscle memory now. It feels right, even in front of Boone's biggest critics.
"Jason's out," he says over his shoulder. "He took an extra job so I could go with y’all today."
Boone and Jason are pretty flexible with each other like that, especially since one of Jason's daughters had the flu and he had to watch her, leaving Boone with his workload. I've come to like Jason, Alex, and their daughters a lot. Boone and I even went out to a restaurant with them. It was my first ever double date, and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I loved getting to see Boone interact with people whom he's close with that are, well, normal.
"That's nice of him," Kara says. "Jason seems kind."
"Yeah, definitely. He's a real …" He pauses, searching for the right word, and when his lips pull into a grin, I want to face-palm myself. Cute or not, he's insufferable. "Swell."
"Have I met Jason before?" Gabe asks. Luckily, he seems more curious than a watchdog.
"No," I answer. "You wouldn't have had any reason to. He's Boone's age, but he was … and Boone wasn't—"
Boone chuckles. "Let's just sacrifice my dignity and be honest, here. Jason and I are pals, but we never ran in the same circles. Further clarification, he wasn't a stoner. Not that I was. Fine, I was for a time, but—"
"Boone," Kara says, walking up beside him. She puts her hand on his shoulder, and he stops in place. "We've always known about your past. We know you're not that person anymore. It's actions you're making up for, not your history."
Gabe makes a noise, which could probably be translated into: "She's wrong. We're judging you for everything. Past, present, future, and which foot you start off on. Literally."
"Thanks for saying that, Kara," Boone says.
"Well, we want to see the both of you happy." Kara narrows her eyes. "But if you make her unhappy …"
Boone lets loose of my hand to hold both of his up. "All right, all right. Loud and clear on that one. An angry Kara is not a friend I wanna meet."
"She isn't exactly classified as your friend," I tell him.
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well I wasn't about to piss her off by saying something that would get me on her bad side."
"Again, Boone," I say with a sigh. "You're not supposed to tell your motives."
He only shrugs. He's totally not understanding my point, and something tells me he never will.
I leave him and go to Gabe, looping my arm through his. Even if he's not happy in Boone's general vicinity, he still grins down at me. Sometimes it hits me that even though I look at him as a dad, he's not. He's just so young. You'd honestly think he's Boone's age. He should've been going wild and having fun, not raising me, but he acts as if this were the best job in the world for him.
I never thought I'd ever have anyone proud of me, yet it never fails that he and Kara always are.
He lets me drag him around the store, showing him all the would-be-could-bes—where the parts will go, where we'll put a cash register, how we'll section off aisles. He oohs and ahhs and adds his own suggestions. He surprises me by actually talking to Boone about a few things. They somehow manage to have a reasonable, even-keel conversation that doesn't push them further apart.
"Now for the best part," Gabe says as we approach my office. Boone carved my name into a piece of weathered wood and hung it on my door, then did the same to his and Jason's. I glued fake flowers to mine and small mechanical parts to theirs, like screws and bolts.
I pull my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door, then stand back so Gabe and Kara can pass.
"You've got a grin on that's both pretty and pretty big," Boone says as he leans against the door. My office is too small to fit him, me, Gabe, and Kara. I blush, then stand on my toes to kiss him. He runs his hand down the length of my cheek, which makes me shiver. He lowers his head and whispers in my ear, "You wanna come over later?"
I blink up at him, trying to clear my brain. At first I think he's inviting me to his trailer, but then I remember he's moved upstairs into the loft. By "moved" I mean he put a bed and his clothes up there but hasn't gotten around to doing anything else. He keeps saying he needs to get the rest of his things, and I always offer to help, but he refuses to let me come over to the trailer. I don't think he wants me around his dad, God-phase or not.
"Okay," I answer.
"Good," he says, his teeth catch the shell of my ear.
It takes all of my effort not to melt into him. He's definitely getting more and more good at this whole seduction-dating-everything-else thing. He's a fast learner and an A+ student, for sure.
He lets me go before I do something stupid such as climb him like a tree in front of Kara and Gabe. My cheeks feel hot, but I go inside my office anyway. Gabe and Kara are too busy looking at everything I've done to notice me. I've never had the opportunity to really be creative with my own space. I probably went too far and made what's supposed to be my "workplace" into my "home." Boone and Jason have my hand-crafted desk all set up in the middle of the room. I also have a small couch, a filing cabinet, and a bookshelf tucked into the room. On one wall I hung a painting I bought at a yard sale and on the other I have a plethora of frames filled with pictures of Kara, Gabe, Boone, and Declan. The office is windowless, so all I've got is the glow of my lamplight, which makes the orange room feel rustic and cozy.
"Doesn't it look great?" Kara asks cheerily while Gabe runs his hands over my desk appreciatively.
"Yeah. This is better than anything I've ever seen," Gabe says. "Carter, you've got something good going here."
"I think so," I agree.
"See, shouldn't she do some interior designing?" Kara asks loud enough so Boone can hear.
"That's definitely in the cards, Kara," Boone calls back. "No need to drop hints."
Kara grins. "Just making sure."
Gabe lets out a whistle when he sees my office phone and the number of messages on it. "Wow, someone's popular."
"I'd like to check through them before we leave and make sure there's no emergencies, but this is how it usually looks when I first get here." The three of us never fail to get excited when we see the number of calls we have, and it's even better when we hit an all-time high. We've even got a competition going to see who can guess the right number. "We're trying to get together a website, and we'll be able to take requests there. Hopefully then I won't be playing phone tag as often."
Gabe pats me on the back. "You seem like you've really got this under control."
"Thank you."
"We're really happy for you, Carter," Kara adds. "I think you've found your calling."
"Now maybe Dad will get off my back."
Kara's perpetual daddy-disappointment shows in her expression. "If he would come here …"
"He won't," I say. "He's never going to be happy with anything I do. Maybe Deirdre would like to see it?"
"Definitely!" Kara cheers. "I can bring Mom by one day and the three of us can do lunch."
I swallow, emotion suddenly flooding me. A lunch with Dierdre might be the tipping point for my happiness. It feels as though everything was finally coming together—as if my life were finally going right.
This is exactly how I felt before everything went kaput.
#
Carter, 18
Boone, 21
My hand is shaking as I knock on my old trailer home's front door. I really hope Tish doesn't answer, not that I think she would. I haven't seen her since my dad paid her to leave us alone. I thought for sure she'd show up again; I didn't believe it would just be a one-time cash deal. You don't just stop milking a cash cow.
I've wanted to visit Declan since he checked himself out of the hospital three months ago, but I haven't had the courage until today. It would be a different story if I was meeting him back at the picnic tables, Boone's, or somewhere else, but coming here is different. If I had a demon to face, stepping inside this trailer again would be it.
I take in a deep breath and reach for the doorknob. I'm the only person who ever locked the door. We never had anything valuable to lock away.
"Carter?"
I freeze, my hand in the middle of turning the knob.
"No one's there," Boone says as he walks across the yard toward me. "You could've called me. I would've told you he wasn't here."
I look at the door, sighing. I wish I wasn't so relieved to hear that.
Boone's been my main connection to Declan. We talk almost every day so I can keep tabs on Declan. I forgot how comfortable and safe Boone could always make me feel. I let our stupid kiss ruin everything, and not having our friendship has been worse than any heartbreak.
It's been easy to forgive him when he's the reason why my brother is still alive. A day doesn't go by where I don't blame myself for not being there for Declan. What sort of sister am I? Even now, after he OD'd, things haven't changed, and I don't know where he is. I'm letting the cycle happen all over again.
I can't meet Boone's eyes. "I know. I just thought—I don't know what I thought. I guess I wanted to see him is all."
"How about we go over to my place? My dad's not there—he's out at Patty's Pub."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "I thought he was back to God."
"Must've found him in the bottom of a bottle."
His joke falls flat—we just stand there awkwardly. Maybe I forgot what this part of my life was like because it feels even worse than it ever did, closer to a fictitious horror story than my past.
"Let's go," I finally decide. I follow him over to his trailer. He glares at the screen, which is in a worse state than I've ever seen it in. There's a piece of duct tape flapping in the breeze from an attempt to patch it up.
He gives me an "oh well" look then opens the door and steps inside.
The inside of his trailer is cleaner than it used to be. I try not to gawk at the empty sink and clear counter space. He walks over to the circa-1980s refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher of water. He pours it into two glasses, then hands one to me.
I stare at the glass, expecting to see floaters in the water. Nothing. Behind him, there's a filter on the faucet.
"He left last night. I think they've been staying with him. Tish's whereabouts are unknown, other than that she's been gone for who knows how long."
"She's probably got a new boyfriend," I say.
"That or a pimp."
"We definitely won the lottery, as far as families are concerned."
Boone raises his glass to that and takes a drink. "Amazing you and I aren't going down the same path. I guess you've had Kara and Gabe, and I've had …"
"You've had what?"
"Well," he says, running his hand up his face and through his hair. "I've had you."
I set the cup on the counter with a little too much force. Water goes sloshing over the rim. "Don't do this to me again, Boone. We're finally in a good place."
“I know we are, and I’m so happy—you have no idea. I refuse to hurt you anymore—at least not on purpose. I'm done pulling all that shit and being a bastard. The way I see it is I've been so focused on all the ways I'm wrong for you, instead of all the ways I'm right for you."
"I don't understand." I'm somewhere between begging him to tell me more and wanting to wring his neck. "What do you mean 'not on purpose'?"
"Carter, all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy," he replies as if what he'd try to say were hidden there.
I walk around the counter toward him. "I am happy, though. I've always been happy. We didn't have the best upbringing, but that didn't ruin everything."
He rubs at his jaw. "I'm what's been ruining everything."
"I didn't say that."
"You don't have to."
"So make it right."
"How?"
I take a few more steps and close the distance between us. My hand trembles as I lift it to cover his. "You'll figure it out."
His fingers lace through mine as we lean into each other. I'm not sure which one of us initiates the kiss, but I don't think it matters because we both continue it. This is levels above our first kiss. It's like our souls are trying to bond together.
I could also just want this to be something more—something permanent. I don't want him to give up on us again. Boone's not good with words, but he's good with my heart, and that'll make me give him everything and end up with nothing.
His tongue flicks against my lips, frantically basically for entrance. My knees nearly buckle when my lips part and his tongue darts inside, mingling with mine. So this is what it's supposed to feel like to be kissed. I thought that our first kiss was magic, but this … this is more.
He lets go of my hands so his can travel down my back. I don't know what he's doing until my legs are hitched up around his hips and he's walking. He must be some sort of a magician because our kiss never ends. It only goes deeper and makes me weaker.
It doesn't take much brainpower—even during a kiss as earth-shattering as this one—to know he's going to his bedroom. They have two bedrooms since their trailer is newer and bigger compared to the one-bedroom brothel ours was.
He shuts the door behind us, locks it, and lays me back, finally breaking the kiss. The sheer emptiness which comes with not kissing him and being disconnected from him is jarring. He stares down at me, standing, while I lay on the bed, my head on a pillow.
"You're beautiful, Carter," he whispers, setting a knee on the bed. "I always dreamed of what it would be like to have you here with me."
"I've been here," I remind him. My voice is hoarse—sort of husky—and it's weird that it belongs to me. I sound as though I just ran a mile in my underwear: out of breath, embarrassed, but free. "Mama once brought home a man who yelled and threw things, so you brought me here and held me."
"All night," he finishes, fitting his body over mine. He somehow manages to keep his weight off me by balancing on his elbows. One of his legs nestles between mine. "You were twelve and it was just before Kara took you. I loved you so much back then, but in a different way.”
“When did you … when did you start dreaming of this?”
“I don’t know. It happened slowly, I guess. I’ve never fallen for anyone before, so I didn’t recognize it. I’d feel in small moments—when I’d kiss your cheeks or when you’d punch my arm. Then eventually it turned into more. When we kissed, my feelings for you turned to full blast. You were older—it didn’t feel so wrong to like you as much as I did.”
“I understand. For me, it was the same. You went from brother to friend to crush to something more.” I pause, smiling to myself. “Can you imagine how grossed out we both would’ve been if we knew this is where we were heading?”
“You mean back in the time when boys and girls had cooties?” He lays his head into the crook of my neck. His muffled chuckle sends shivers down my back. “I’m just kidding, Carter. If you had cooties, I never saw a lick of them.”
His tongue darts out to taste my skin. I'm immediately reminded of just how much of an adult I am as heat pools between my thighs. I fist my hands in his hair as I sigh. I don't know what I'm doing, but I don't care. I hope he doesn't either.
His thigh drops between my legs, pushing up against me, and I make a sound close to a whimper. That feels almost too good. My hips, of their own volition, press closer, electricity spreading over the surface of my skin. It feels so good I want, need, and will beg for more.
Slowly, he leads a trail of kisses from my shoulder and back to my lips. He lies down, half his weight on me and the rest on the bed, so his hand can rest on my stomach.
We kiss like that for a long time until I feel like I'm flying. I know enough about sex from being around Tish to know I'm getting close to an orgasm. She's always been way too open about that sort of thing, not only being loud enough for me to hear, but also talking about it afterward. I'm glad Kara and Gabe aren't like that.
When his hands touch my breasts, I finally find my release. I cry out, my hands reaching wildly for something to use to ground myself. Maybe this is why Tish was so loud. She just couldn't help herself.
Boone kisses me through it until I feel like a mass of nothing beneath him. I can feel him, hot and hard through our layers of clothes. With all the control in the world, he starts to shift off me, but I grab hold of his shirt. I don't know what I want or how to say it. I just stare at him, begging him to figure it out for himself.
If he's going to eventually change his mind again, then I want to have this memory of him. I want him to have every piece of me I can give.
He lowers his face to mine and kisses me deeply. When he breaks away, he stares at me with unwavering eye contact. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice unsteady.
"Yes," I say back, just as nervous.
He lifts a hand to brush my hair away from my face. It's shaking, and for some reason that makes me more comfortable than anything.
"You're my first," I tell him. My cheeks feel hotter than the sun.
"I hoped so," he says back. "I wish you were mine, too. I wish I would've waited for you."
"Three years is evidently a big age gap," I tell him.
He laughs. "As far as this is concerned, yes." His hand moves to the buttons on my shirt. "This matters to me, Carter. This and that kiss both do."
I don't answer him, because I'm too busy watching him slowly reveal my skin. I've never been naked in front of anyone before—never even in just my underwear and panties. I know I have more curves than most girls, and I usually have to buy shirts in a larger size than I really am to compensate for my boobs. I hope I'm his type or else this is going to be a lot like unwrapping a Christmas present and finding coal.
Cold air tickles my skin as he helps me sit up to take my shirt off. When I lie back, he stares at me. He's as serious as I've ever seen him, with a slight glimmer to his eyes. He swallows, then his gaze finds mine.
"Perfect," he tells me hoarsely. He tries to takes his shirt off but gets it caught on his head. For some reason, it makes me relax and laugh. By the time he gets it off, he's laughing, too. He juts his thumb at his chest. "Not perfect."
From my point of view, he pretty much is. Yes, it's the abs and the chest and the general gorgeousness of him, but it's also how he's smiling down at me and how when he looks at me, the whole world sort of slows down and takes its time.
I answer him by craning my neck to kiss him. He kisses me back, letting me pull him in until we're skin to skin. He curls his hand behind my back, fumbling with my bra strap. It's cream and ugly, even though Kara always tells me to "have fun." I've never seen the point of having fun underwear until now, because I always said, "Why? Not like anyone's going to see it." I think Kara meant it would be a fun secret. I don't think she intended for this to be the very moment where I realized next time we go shopping, I will get the fun, colorful, probably uncomfortable underwear—the non-granny kind.
Boone doesn't seem to care if I dress like an eighty-year-old as he pulls my bra off and tosses it to the side. Here I am worrying about my body and what I'm wearing, and he just wants me for me.
His lips find their way to my nipple, where his tongue swirls against it, then he tugs on it with his teeth. My back bows as I press my breast further into his mouth. I can already feel a residual orgasm on its way.
Between us, he unbuttons and unzips his pants. He leaves me to do the same with mine—giving me that option to back out of this if I want to. I don't. Still, I'm beyond nervous as I work my shorts down my legs, then my underwear.
He slides his hand down my stomach, and I tense. This is all so new and awkward and …
"Hey, relax," he says. "Look at me." I hesitate, but then do as he says, despite the blush creeping over my cheeks. His eyes are wide, but kind and deep, the brown invitingly sweet. "I promise you'll love this. It'll just … it'll be weird and hurt at first. I promise it'll all get better." He gently strokes the skin of my abdomen with his thumb. "I'm out of my mind with nerves, too."
I try to smile at him to let him know how much what he's saying means to me, but my lips are numb and trembling. Instead I reach between us and wrap my fingers around his wrist. Even if it's nothing, I just want a little control.
He swallows and leans back in for more kissing. Just as his tongue flicks against mine, he moves his hand over my folds, a finger slipping inside of me. I cry out into his mouth, blissfully happy. The more I react, the more insistent his fingers become, until he has me writhing beneath him, begging for more.
At that point, he rolls off me and disappears. He comes back with a sheepish look, then says, "I never keep anything on me … I had to get protection from the bathroom." I don't know what it says if he doesn't always have protection, but I don't really want to ask. I'm too focused on how he's about to be inside of me—all of him. His fingers felt good, but more?
Before I can think too much, he's turning me into a mass of mindless and contented putty with his hands, fingers, and tongue. Somewhere in it all, he poises himself at my entrance and slowly slides in. I immediately go still. It feels as though he were stretching me—tearing me open. Maybe he's too big for me. Is it possible that sometimes people can't fit together?
"I love you," he whispers into my ear as he pushes deeper, faster. A sharp pain brings tears to my eyes, and Boone surprises me by kissing them away. He stays inside me, unmoving, as the pain dissipates and my body gets used to him. "Better?"
"Yes," I breathe.
He sighs and the small movement causes pleasure to shoot through all my nerve endings. My hips move, seeking something more. I need it. Crave it.
"Shit, pretty girl," he whispers. "I'm not gonna last with you."
Painstakingly slow, he pulls out of me, then pushes back in. I moan, groping at his back. I don't know if it's just him or if this feels this good for everyone, but I'm thinking it's him. This is his special power. I would've regretted letting him be my first, even without knowing how great it would feel.
His next thrust is faster and harder, and I lift my hips to meet his. This time he groans and buries his head in my neck. He lets out a string of curses, which are still audible, even muffled, as his lips move deliciously against my skin. I'm not sure who's more frenzied as we continue, but it becomes like a competition for who can feel the most and who can express it.
By the time I have the same existential feeling as before, I'm exhausted. My body hurts just as good as it feels. Boone follows shortly after me, moaning and cursing his way through a release.
As he holds me, our bodies still joined, I let myself believe that he does love me, even though at the end of the day it doesn't really matter. As long as I love him back, it'll never matter. I'll let him take anything I give him, because I want everything he'll give me in return. I want to try to get as close to everything with him as I can.
#
The four of us sit in the waiting room because Officer Taft is on a phone call. The police office is newly built, so it still has a cold, bland atmosphere to it. This is probably advantageous for the officers as far as perpetrators are involved, but it's unsettling for the everyday person.
I shift in my seat and tug at the hem of my shorts. It's something to do, since all I want to do is escape. I'm afraid if we don't speak with Officer Taft soon, I'm going to give up. Maybe it doesn't even matter if they find the guy or not—it's been a while since he attacked me, and he hasn't shown up since. Maybe I'm safe and it's best not to go poking around.
I open my mouth, ready to say exactly that, when Boone laces his hand with mine. He's already got one of his arms over the back of my chair, so he's basically caging me in and keeping me here.
This is what needs to be done. The addict can't just hurt me and get away with it.
"You know what I found when I was cleaning out my room at the trailer? A whole box of notes I never gave you. They're embarrassing as hell, but I thought you'd get a kick out of ’em. I wanted to save them for another time, but I think I might just go ahead and show them to you," Boone says.
He's either trying to distract himself or me, so I guess I'd better go along with it. "Why didn't you give them to me when you wrote them?"
"’Cause they're embarrassing as hell, like I said."
"And the other ones you wrote aren't?"
Boone shakes his head. "Hey, those were written out of love. These were … I don't know. I go on for a whole page about the color of my socks and how it reminds me of your eyes. I've never owned anything other than black and white socks in my life, so I don't know what the hell was happening there."
"You were probably high," I say.
He shrugs. "It was written during that time frame."
"How is that embarrassing, though?"
"Because you were basically a kid still."
"You were, too," Kara interjects, leaning around me to see Boone. "From my point of view, you were basically a tween."
"Tween? What's a tween?" Gabe and Boone ask at almost the same time. It makes Gabe glower and Boone grin.
"It's like a kid that's between being a child and a teenager," I explain.
"Basically, it's a phase where the kids are ready to grow up, but the parents aren't," Kara clarifies.
"Well, tween sounds like a horrible stage," Boone says. "I can't even remember anything from my tween stage, if that's any indicator. So, yeah, my kid's ain't gonna have the opportunity to have one of those. They're gonna be as straight-laced and boring as they come."
I gape at him. Kids? Straight-laced and boring? I never considered Boone might have aspirations to be a dad. I always assumed his upbringing ruined any of those sorts of dreams. If I hadn't moved in with Kara and Gabe, I don't think I would've wanted kids. It's hard to want to bring children into a world you know is dangerous.
Before I can try to get more out of him about it, Officer Taft walks into the waiting area. "Good afternoon," he says and shakes all of our hands, saying our names individually. "You all can follow me. I've got some extra chairs set up."
Officer Taft leads us into a room that is filled with desks. Most of them are empty, but clearly used. Only three other people are currently in, one of which is sleeping. Officer Taft goes to a desk in the corner of the room, which has four chairs cramped together. My sister and Gabe immediately take the chairs on either side of me. I expect Boone to put up a fight, but he walks behind me and stands instead. He puts his hands on my shoulders.
"Have you found him?" Gabe asks before Officer Taft can sit down.
Officer Taft takes his seat and leans back in his chair. "Yes—he was admitted to a hospital four counties over. He was hit by a car."
"Oh," Kara says, putting her hand over her mouth.
Gabe doesn't make any noise. As a doctor, I know he probably wouldn't wish any ill on anyone, but in this case, who knows.
"Well, that's good news," Boone says.
I want to disagree—the man is in the hospital in lord knows what condition—but I can't.
"He's stable," Taft continues. "We'll need him in better shape before you can identify him, Carter. The problem is we quickly learned from a few of his friends that it's not just him who's interested in you. Evidently your mom has been telling people her debts are transferable to you. She thinks you'll pay them for her."
"Why would she think that?" I ask. Boone begins massaging my shoulders, which saves me from the tiny panic attack brewing.
"Because of Dad," Kara answers quietly.
"Paying people off is his specialty," Gabe finishes. He leans forward and sets an elbow on Taft's desk. "Their dad gave Tish money over the years to get her to disappear. We're her own personal bank."
"I don't think she ever realized Dad only paid her when it inconvenienced him," I explain. "What happened to me doesn't inconvenience him."
"It should," Gabe and Boone say. They're sharing a lot of the same thoughts today. At least they have something to bond over—my crappy father is their common enemy.
Taft frowns. I've got to give him credit for taking the time to be thorough with us. He's been kind and understanding, even though chances are nothing is going to come from this. "There's really not much we can do. We can only keep a close eye on Carter's safety. I wish there were more, but …" He trails off. "There's also no clear sight on where Tish is."
I don't know how to react. Does that mean she's probably dead? is the main thing I want to ask, but I know I'll sound more like I'm asking for an update about the weather. Even if Officer Taft is getting a front-row seat to my crazy family drama, I don't want him to know it's not just that I don't love my mom, it's that I've never loved her.
"Chances are she's holed up somewhere," he continues, "but she could also be deceased. We don't know."
We all just sort of stare at him. What does it say about us if we don't care?
"O-kay, then," Taft says, "that's all we've got to update you about."
"So let me get this straight," Boone says from behind me, and I only now notice his hands have gone still. "Carter's on her own, while Tish is out sending people after her for money?"
"Well, no—"
"That's shit." Boone's voice is sharp, and it makes me flinch. "You're basically saying if something happens, you'll help her after the fact."
"Boone," I say softly, turning around to face him. His expression is hard, and his eyes are full of emotion, a tsunami brewing inside them. "They can't exactly see the future."
His gaze falls to me and his face softens. "Sorry," he says. "I'm just frustrated. Don't want to see you get hurt again. Ever."
"I know," I tell him. I put my hand on his. "Nothing has happened, and it's been a month. Maybe nothing is going to happen at all. He might've just been desperate."
"I hope you're right, Carter," he says.
"Me too," Gabe agrees. "I don't like this any more than you do, Boone."
"Me, either," Kara adds.
"Neither do we," Taft says. "Which is why we do want to stay involved in this. Like you said, he could've been desperate, but so might the other people Tish has promised money to. Until enough time has passed, we'd like to be alerted about anything out of the ordinary. If anything alarming starts happening, we want to do what we can to step in before it escalates."
"Thank you," I say.
He smiles at me, then stands. We all take turns shaking his hand before he shows us outside. When we're in the car, it's Boone who talks first. Of course.
"I just don't like it," he says. "Think we can make a pit stop? Carter needs a taser."
#
"We're not going to practice using that thing, if that's why you keep playing with it," Boone says as he cleans the dishes from the dinner he made us. He caused my heart hurt in a good way when he told me he was going to make it for us, then proceeded to order me to "sit my pretty ass in a chair" while he did. He said the same thing when it came time to clean everything up. I didn't know he could cook food other than the microwavable stuff and ramen. Evidently he can, and he's good at it.
I set the taser back down on the table and push it to the middle. Far away from me. "I'm trying to figure out where I'm going to put it. I can't see my attacker waiting for me to find my purse then find my taser in said purse."
"Little faith in the politeness of humanity, huh?"
"Absolutely none," I say. The man who attacked me sure wasn't interested in pleases and thank yous. I doubt he ever even learned them.
"That's probably for the best. What's humanity ever done for us?" He turns to face me as he dries off our wine glasses. We didn't actually drink wine. Instead we had some Sprite to create the—his words—"fizz effect," which I guess is important when drinking out of a wine glass. Who knows. It shouldn't surprise me Boone's not a drinker. "I'm sorry again for my shitty reaction back at the police station."
I grab the taser up and point it at him. "If you apologize one more time, I am going to get some practice with this."
He laughs. "Fine, then. I'm done."
I gently set it back down in its place. Don't want to make it angry. "I think Gabe felt the same way."
"I wish we had something else in common, but for now it'll have to do." He turns back around and puts the wine glasses up in a cabinet. He refinished his bottom cabinets, but not the ones on the wall, so everything is mismatched. While he's made some progress on his loft, most of it is still under construction. Getting the downstairs has had a priority for him.
From the way he's been talking, this is actually better for his relationship with his dad. I guess they get along better now that they're not forced to be in each other's business. Boone's actually been going over to visit him, and they managed to have a conversation, which didn't revolve around religion.
"You'll get there eventually. Gabe just …"
"Blames me for everything wrong that's ever happened to you?" He folds up the towel neatly and places it on its rung. "He should. And I guess I probably shouldn't be rushing for him to approve of me since that's the case."
"You're not the reason why everything bad has happened to me."
"Fine, it's pretty damn close to it." He shakes his head and looks down at his feet. He rubs his palm into his face hard enough to leave a red mark behind. "When you think about it, I'm the reason why Declan got into drugs, you know that? I'm the one who introduced him to the thugs we hung with, talked him into trying that shit. If I wouldn't have done that, he might still be here."
"Boone, that's not your fault. I wanted to blame you—I won't lie. But no matter what, it was in Declan's DNA to have a problem with addiction. He made the active decision to try the harder drugs. He gave up on himself. No one—not you, me, or Tish—were involved in any of that. It was him. Declan." By the time I'm done talking, I'm on the verge of tears. I'm actually shaking. I clench my hands on my lap, trying to hold it all in. "You're not the reason for everything that's wrong in my life or in the world. You're giving yourself too much credit if you think that."
I blink to clear my vision. He walks toward the island I'm sitting at, pushes the taser away, leans into me, and cups my cheeks.
"How is it you know everything I need to hear?" he asks. "I've been carrying that guilt around with me for what feels like forever, then you magically take it away."
I lift my hands up to cover his. "I think I've been putting pressure on you to carry that guilt. I've made you feel horrible."
"Because I've been horrible."
"You've been human," I correct.
He closes the distance between us to kiss me. The kiss is there and gone, leaving me wanting more. As always. I wonder if Boone and I were together for the rest of time, if there would always be this all-consuming, underlying passion or if it would eventually fade. Something tells me I could be old, wrinkled, forgetful, and cranky, and I would still love him just as much as I do today. I would still see him the same way, too.
"You're too understanding," he tells me.
I roll my eyes. "You didn't think that when you were bugging me to be friends with you. I probably wasn't understanding enough then."
"I thought you were. I just didn't verbalize it," he explains. "Besides, how can I be sure you get the best if I'm not the one giving it?"
"Your ego is so sporadic. I've got a kink in my neck."
"Look at us being sexual without even meaning to," he says. "Giving you the best and a kink. Pretty girl, it's not kink, it's crick."
"No, it's kink."
"Crick," he says, grinning an insufferably sexy grin as he presses closer to me, then nuzzles his nose against my neck. "There's a difference between a crick and a kink. I'll show you sometime if you want."
I blush. "Are we seriously arguing about this?"
"If you're asking that, then you clearly see I'm right and don't want to admit it." His lips brush against the sensitive spot behind my ear. I shudder and grip his forearms. "Tell me I'm right."
"You're wrong."
He chuckles. "It's a damn shame you're cute when you argue with me or else I'd keep this going longer."
My knees nearly buckle when his thigh parts my legs. "My cuteness has never stopped you from arguing before."
"Yeah, but now I've got a reason to stop."
"What's that?"
He answers me by pressing his hips against me so I can feel how hard he is. Ah. That. The sudden need rampaging throughout my body is definitely a good reason to give up on the argument.
And talking.
And thinking.
Our lips slant together in a hungry, lusty kiss that's more about bonding souls than bodies. It's almost scary how everything around us disappears when we're together like this. The only thing I can focus on is us and how I want more. Need more. Talk about drugs.
He grips my hips, but he doesn't lift me as he usually does. For some reason he has a thing about lifting me or carrying me. I agree it's a lot easier because the last thing I want to do is fall and break a hip in the middle of the best kiss of my life (they all are the best kisses of my life). That would be an embarrassing call to make to Kara and Gabe or anyone for that matter.
He turns us away from the counter and starts walking me backward. Somehow my legs work, even if they have the composition of Jell-O. Maybe the feel of his lips, his hands and his tongue twined with mine are so euphoric it's causing me to have an out of body experience—then again, maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit. Maybe I'm good at this.
Ha, yeah, right.
He stops everything just outside of his bedroom door. When he pulls away, I make an embarrassing mewling sound. My whole body becomes hyper-aware when he only stares at me, eyes churning with raw emotion. He's tense, a hand on my back and the other tangled in my hair, but other than that he's barely even touching me now. It's as if he were trying to be as far away from me as he can without actually being away from me.
"We're goin' in there," he says cryptically.
I try to keep my face blank, even though I'm confused as all get out. I don't want to give him any reason to freak out. "Yes."
He swallows. "That's my bedroom, Carter. Once we're in there …"
I bring my hands up to his face. I force him to look into my eyes by pulling him to my level. "I don't want to stop, Boone."
"We let this happen the last time and you regretted it," he says slowly. He looks worried and as though he were poised for disappointment. "I don't want that to happen again."
Guilt pummels low in my stomach. All this time I've placed so much blame on him and resented him, but I never once thought about how I hurt him. After the kiss, I was so mad at him because he changed his mind, but I changed mine after we made love. Even if it was for a good reason, it still had to hurt him. I always thought I was the one who went into his room and lost the most, but maybe it was him.
"I didn't regret anything with you—ever," I tell him, just like I did with the kiss. "It's the after I regret."
"We're pretty damn good with the during, but we're bad at those afters," he says. "Let's make it different this time, all right?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm in it for the long haul," he tells me, not for the first time. "Forever. This is going to be another beginning."
Has he always been this way? I think he has. He's shown versions of himself to me, but never this complete view of him. He's risking a lot—everything—by being so personal. He's basically giving me and showing me his vulnerable, beating heart, fully knowing it could be easily broken.
"I am, too," I promise him. I step back beyond the door frame and start pulling at my clothes. He watches me as I slip my shirt off, then my shorts, until I'm only in my underwear. I sit down on the bed, willing my body not to miss and break my tail bone.
I'm not this bold. Ever. I'm all talk. That's clear in the way I was constantly trying to push Boone away but letting him in. If this is going to be different, I have to show the both of us I'm willing to try harder, too. I've been relying on him to be better, but I have room to improve also. I can be what the both of us need, just like I expect him to be.
He blinks, as if he were trying to get everything in check in his mind. "Did that just happen?"
I nod.
"We'll have to see if we can do a rewind of it later," he says. "You know, to make sure I wasn't just imagining things." He's not laughing or smiling, which means he's totally serious.
He saunters toward me the same way I walked away—losing his pants and shirt. This time he's actually wearing a pair of boxes, which I only laugh about on the inside. I sort of want to mark it down on the calendar. Today Boone Fell wore all of the clothes he was supposed to like a good little boy. Although, he's getting naked and defeating the purpose. Here I was yelling at him about it, and now I'm enabling him.
"You think a lot," he says as he cages his warm body over mine. We measure up in all the right, delicious places. "And you even think in snark, too."
"How do you know that?"
He traces my eyebrow with his thumb, making me shiver. "These tell me all your secrets."
"You're too obsessed with my eyebrows."
He grins and kisses where his fingers have just touched. "Not possible."
I huff, but it turns into a sigh as he massages his hands down my body. We've been in this position more times than I can count over the last month, though it hasn't gone further. You'd think I'd be used to it or immune to his touch, but I'm not. I'm not sure I ever will be.
We kiss, my bra disappearing, then my undies, then his as he works me toward the edge of an orgasm. As it roils through my body, it takes everything in me to stay on this planet. Somehow I manage, and when I open my eyes, he's still above me, not moving any further. He's just staring at me. Studying me.
He wants me to make the move. I slide my hand between us, until he's hot and heavy in my hand. The times I've tried to touch him, he's warded me off, always telling me it would lead us farther than we're ready for. This time he lets me. I slowly run my fingers down the length of him, then back up. He shudders, and his muscles tense as he tries to stay poised above me. I like the power this gives me over him. I like how I'm giving him pleasure for once.
I apply pressure with my whole hand this time, moving in a way I hope is making him feel good. I try to judge how to work him over by his grunts and moans, but I don't know if they're an indicator that he likes it or if I'm hurting him. When his hips jolt and he starts moving with me, I decide it's got to be the first.
"You need to stop," he says raggedly, tracing his teeth down my neck.
He says it with such desperation, that I do as he says. He draws in a heavy, hard breath, his eyes squeezed shut, then he moves off me and over to the nightstand. I watch him as he pulls out a still-sealed box, struggles to open in, then finally manages to take out a packet. He makes short work of it, retrieving the condom, sliding it on, then putting the wrapper in a trash can.
My heart is pounding as he comes back to the bed and crawls back on top of me. He pushes my hair away from my face and traces his hand down along the curve of my cheek. "Last chance to back out," he says in a hoarse voice.
I put my palm against his cheek. Warmth spreads beneath my hand. It's a reaction as simple as that which makes me ready for anything with him. It's not loud or noticeable, somehow more meaningful than any grand gesture.
"Never," I say back. "It's your chance, too, you know."
His answer is to kiss me.
This is exactly where we both want to be.
He snakes his hand down mine and hooks my leg around his as he lifts himself and slowly slides inside of me. Unlike the last time, the movement is automatically delicious. There's no pain or tears, just something like a strangled cry from me and a grunt from him as he continues deeper.
Loving him has been trying, but this is so easy. So perfect. I honestly can't help wondering if I've just had an aneurysm and am now in heaven. No, I've gone beyond heaven and into the stars, floating and going somewhere, destination unknown.
I'm not sure who moves first, but suddenly we’re both racing toward a higher greater than any drug. He buries his face in my neck, going faster, harder. There's nothing happening and everything happening all at the same time. There are almost too many sensations to handle. His hands, his thrusts, his breath against my skin. His muscular back against my fingertips, the feel of him inside me, our heartbeats merging as one. Maybe it's all just us.
From the second he entered me, I must've been in a perpetual orgasm because it was like I was just building, building, building toward it, but not working toward one. Then my head is spinning, my heart is soaring, and I can't see, hear, or know anything other than that this is perfection.
Boone follows shortly after me, suddenly still and holding me tighter than ever. I slowly come down off the high, realizing I'm crying again for an entirely different reason.
Because that was love.
Eventually he rolls us onto our sides and holds me, and in that moment I can see the feeling reflected in his eyes. We're always going to wind up here—together and in love.
From the very beginning, we were destined to be together forever.