19
The following afternoon, the house was filled. Serving staff offered entrees and champagne while Kat watched her mother float effortlessly from one person to the next, her smile fixed and her manner easy. Having grown up in a political family and been married to one of the youngest senators in the country, Eva could work a room with the best of them.
Ben, Abby, Beth, and Adam had arrived to a whirlwind of kisses and hugs from her and Nana Boo. As Kat watched them all exchange pleasantries, she was struck with how familiar Beth and her mother had seemingly become. She’d noticed it during her birthday dinner, but now, seeing the two women embrace and talk quietly, it appeared that, somewhere along the line, they’d become friends.
“How are you?” Kat asked, kissing Beth on the cheek.
“Good,” Beth said as she glanced at her fiancé, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable. “And you? Any news?”
“Nothing exciting.” Kat toed the floor, her face heating under the scrutiny of her friend.
“Something you wanna share?” Beth inquired with a tilt of her head.
“Not right now,” Kat said firmly, but followed it with a small smile, trying like hell to take the defensiveness out of her tone. She wasn’t sure it worked. She so wanted to share with Beth, with all of them. But something—something that made her turn cold—stopped her.
Nana Boo was the only person she trusted implicitly with her true feelings for Carter. The quiet and covert conversation with her grandmother the previous night when Eva and Harrison had gone to bed had been wholly different from the ones with her mother and Beth. It had been easy, open, and filled with laughter. Nana regaled Kat with the latest gossip from the bridge club and the handsome new guy, Roger, who was her new golfing partner.
“He’s rough and ready,” Nana had explained with a laugh. “Which I like.”
Kat had curled up on the sofa with a chamomile tea and let herself get swept away by the soft tones and gentle words of her grandmother. She loved how Nana Boo knew what to say to make her smile, and the enthusiasm that the old lady exuded started to chase away the dark anxiety that had resided in Kat since the trip began. Kat heard herself laugh, and her smile was entirely genuine as Nana detailed her distaste for the new lady who had joined her salsa class.
“A floozy, darling, plain and simple” was her no-holds-barred description of the newly widowed Ms. Harper. “So,” Nana Boo had said, smiling. “What’s new with you? I’ve missed you.”
Kat had sighed and plucked at a loose cotton thread at the bottom of her sweatpants. “I’ve missed you, too, Nana,” she’d confessed. “I’m … I’m all right. Busy.”
Nana had hummed and sighed gently. “Kat, I know when my only granddaughter is not herself.”
Kat had laughed without humor and wrapped her free arm around herself. “It’s complicated.”
“What aspects of life aren’t?” Nana had asked with a smile. “Darling, I love you very much, and I want to help if I can.”
“Thank you.”
“I know your mother worries, Kat. It’s her prerogative.”
“I know,” Kat had answered with an exasperated sigh. “But she worries too much. I’m an adult, Nana. I can make my own decisions. I can look after myself.”
“I don’t doubt that, my darling. You were always so strong. So like your father.”
“And stubborn like my mother?” Kat had asked wryly.
Nana Boo had laughed. “Without a doubt.” She’d been silent for a beat. “I know your job causes your mother great concern, but I am so very proud of you. I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything. You have my absolute confidence, angel.”
Kat had closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the sofa, knowing the truth of her words. “I … I’m …” Kat had clapped a warm palm to her forehead in an effort to ease the throbbing persisting at the backs of her eyes. “God, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning,” Nana Boo had encouraged.
So Kat had. Nana had been excited to learn about Arthur Kill and Kat’s study sessions with Carter. She’d been surprised, to say the very least, when she heard about the man who was slowly stealing his way into Kat’s heart, but, being an old romantic, Nana Boo had promised to be there for her every step of the way—going so far as to invite them both to Chicago for Thanksgiving.
“I want to meet the man who has brought that smile back to your face,” Nana Boo had said tearfully.
Kat wasn’t sure that she and Carter were anywhere near the meeting-the-family stage quite yet, but she’d offered to think about it. She couldn’t begin to express how much her Nana’s support and confidence meant to her. Words just didn’t seem adequate.
“Just promise me that you’ll try to talk to your mother, Kat,” she had said. “You don’t need to tell her everything, just try.”
“I promise,” Kat had conceded.
But when she’d brought up the subject of her job in conversation that morning, Kat had been met with huffs and tapping fingers. Eva interjected continuously with disagreeable and venomous comments. Her tone had been condescending and dismissive at best and Kat’s patience had begun to dwindle even further. Something was about ready to give. Kat was sick of the whole it’s-oh-so-dangerous spiel. Just once she’d like to be treated like an adult. She wanted understanding, not judgment.
As the celebrations continued, the bland, polite conversation began in earnest among Beth, Adam, and Eva, while Kat stayed at the side of the room, smiling politely at those who approached and spoke so respectfully of her father. As much as she wanted to be sociable, Kat couldn’t find it in herself. The inexplicable distance between her and Beth, mixed with the exasperated glances from her mother, made her heart ache.
“—outside the prison with that cretin, Carter.” Eva spat Carter’s name as if it were a dirty word, pricking Kat’s ears and dragging her from her safe spot by the wall into the conversation.
“Mom, he’s not—” Kat began, but stopped when three sets of disapproving eyes landed on her.
The heaviness in her stomach began to spread and she wondered why, when surrounded by her family and friends, she felt so alone. Carter’s voice was all she wanted to hear. She needed to talk to him and take comfort in his no-bullshit honesty, to be assured that the risks she was willing to take with him would be worth it.
“Never mind,” she muttered before excusing herself and hurrying up the stairs to the bathroom, with Reggie close on her heels. Leaving the dog in the hallway, Kat closed the door and leaned her forehead against it.
Jesus, it was like being suffocated. She wanted her father. She wanted to see his face, hear his calm, patient voice, and smell his warm, deep cherry scent. He’d know what to say to make it right. He always did. Either that or he would squeeze her to his chest so hard she would forget what she was so upset about in the first place.
The tears threatened to spill, but it wasn’t the time.
Going to the messages on her cell, she typed a quick one to Carter. Kat’s thumbs flew over the screen.
Are you busy? Wanna talk?
The knock at the door of the bathroom coincided with Kat’s thumb pressing the send button. Opening the door slowly, she wasn’t surprised to see Beth standing on the other side.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Beth replied. “You all right?”
No more bullshit. Cards on the table. “No.”
Beth’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t think so.”
Kat lifted her shoulders in question. “What’s going on, Beth?” she asked. “I mean, I feel like I’m missing something. You were so supportive when I started at Kill. You sat with me while I spilled my guts to you about Carter, and now— I don’t know.”
“It’s … difficult to explain.”
“What’s difficult? I thought you were on my side. Is this because of Austin?”
Beth’s head shot up.
Kat closed her eyes in regret. “I’m sorry if I led him on, but we only kissed that once, and I was clear that we should take it slow, if at all. I’m so confused with everything. I didn’t—”
Beth’s face flashed with incredulity. “Are you—are you sleeping with Carter?”
Kat’s temper flared. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not.”
“This is getting out of hand, Kat. Do you even know him?” Beth continued, becoming vehement. “I mean, has he told you about all the times he’s been in jail, told you the reasons why?”
“How the—”
“Your mom’s right. You’re putting yourself in danger, your work, your—”
“You don’t know him. He’s different.”
“Oh, Katherine, please.” Beth crossed her arms. “That’s lust talking, nothing more.”
“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child, Beth,” Kat snapped, moving closer. “I get enough of that from my mother. I don’t need it from my friend.”
“I’m speaking to you like a child because you’re acting like one, and because I love you and want what’s best for you, and because I’ve held my tongue for too long. He’s. Your. Student, Kat, and a criminal. You’re putting your whole career on the line for a stupid crush that’s going nowhere.”
“And what the hell would you know?” Kat’s voice burst from her louder than she intended.
“I know a damn sight more than you,” Beth replied tellingly.
“Then why don’t you enlighten me, huh?”
“Everything okay here?” Adam’s concerned voice came from the top of the stairs.
“No,” Kat retorted.
Adam glanced nervously at his fiancée, who looked back with a tiny shake of her head.
Kat’s hands rested firmly on her hips while her eyes flicked between them. “It seems I’m a little out of the loop here. Is someone gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Adam placed his hand in Beth’s. His eyes were determined yet cautious as he took a deep breath and said, “He’s my cousin.”
Kat saw Beth’s stare drop to the floor. “Who’s your cousin?” she asked impatiently.
As Adam opened his mouth to answer, Kat’s phone began singing in her hand. She grimaced and glanced at the screen.
Carter.
Adam reached out to tap her cell phone with his finger. “He is my cousin.”
Kat slowly pressed decline as Adam’s words buzzed in her head, her brain trying to make sense of them, to put them in an order that she could understand.
Carter was Adam’s cousin.
They were related.
But that would mean …
“Oh, God.” Kat swayed and grabbed on to the doorframe.
Austin.
Beth reached for her, but Kat pulled her arm out of her grasp.
Beth immediately appeared contrite. “I wanted to tell you, but—”
“You knew,” Kat whispered. Her head throbbed with an emotion so heavy it almost brought her to her knees. “When I told you about kissing Carter. You knew.”
Adam nearly choked. “You kissed him?”
“Yes,” Beth answered resolutely. She placed a hand on Adam’s chest but kept her eyes on Kat. “I did know. Adam told me. But, Kat, it wasn’t my place.”
“Bullshit!” Kat’s palm slapped the door of the bathroom. All the pieces began to fall into place: the distance between her and Beth, the loaded looks between Adam and Austin when she told them where she worked and about Carter’s parole. Their deceitfulness screamed through her.
“You could have told me at any time; you both could have,” Kat seethed. “And Austin! But you all chose not to because, like every other person in my life, you treat me like a kid who doesn’t know any better.”
“I thought you’d get over it,” Beth protested. “I thought you’d move on before you got in too deep. We all thought if you gave Austin a chance—”
“Wait. ‘We’?”
“Adam told me Carter’s done some serious shit. He’s bad news and he’s your student, Kat. Do you not understand the ramifications of that? You kissed your student!”
“Yeah, I did. Twice,” Kat exploded. “And I fucking enjoyed it.”
“Katherine!”
All three of them turned to see Eva standing with a look of disgust directed straight at Kat. “You—you kissed that … that man?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
Breathless and trying to numb out the shame of what she was about to do, Kat pushed past Beth and Adam, and headed to her bedroom. The smothering was reaching epic proportions, and the hammering in her brain was sending her almost hysterical. We? They’d all known, all tried to keep her away from Carter. The new friendship between her mother and Beth, the persistence of Austin. It all made sense now. She suddenly felt sick.
“I need to get out of here,” she muttered, bursting into the room and grabbing at her bag, throwing in her toiletries and clothes from the day before. Hoisting it over her shoulder, she turned and almost fell over her mother standing in the doorway.
“Where are you going?” Eva eyed the bag and the white-knuckle grip Kat had on it.
“I’m sorry, but I need … I need to get out of here, Mom,” Kat answered, avoiding the gaze she knew would make her feel tiny and shitty all at the same time. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Eva spluttered. “You’re not going anywhere. You will stand there and explain to me just what the hell has been going on!”
But Kat knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t explain. She couldn’t be around people, much less the people who refused to understand—people who lied to her and treated her as if she were stupid. There was too much to process, too many questions with no answers. She needed to be alone.
“I can’t, Mom. I have to go … just for tonight.” It was a lie. Kat knew it as soon as the words left her mouth. Her plan was to get into a car and not stop until the gas ran out.
“I won’t allow it, Katherine. You will put that bag down, pull yourself together, and apologize to Beth. How dare you behave this way.”
Kat barked a sardonic laugh. “Apologize? Me? I have nothing to apologize for!”
“Enough! From what I’ve heard tonight,” Eva said in a low voice, “there are plenty of things you need to apologize for.” Her eyes widened with disbelief. “My God, Katherine, what the hell were you thinking? He’s dangerous.”
Kat gripped her temples. “Oh my God!”
“He’s just like those creatures that killed your father: evil, heartless. Is that who you want to be with? Do you understand how much you’re hurting me? How much you’d hurt your father if he were here?”
Kat’s breath caught hard. She stared hopelessly at her mother. Her eyes began to sting with furious tears. “I’m sorry I’ve let you down.” She moved around her, holding in her sobs. “I need to get out of here.”
Eva grabbed her arm. “You are not leaving. You are here for your father!”
That lit the fuse. “I know why I’m here, Mom,” Kat shrieked. “I was there the night those creatures fucking killed him, remember?”
The shock of the slap to the left side of Kat’s face stung much more than the slap itself. Her mother had never struck her before, but, deep down, underneath all the confused anger swallowing her soul, Kat knew she deserved it. She registered a gasp from her mother but didn’t stay around to hear what she had to say. She yanked her arm from Eva’s grasp, exploded out of the room, past Adam and Beth, and bolted down the stairs.
Ben was at the bottom, utterly perplexed. “What the hell’s going on?” He followed her to the cloakroom.
“Can I have the keys to your car?” Kat stuttered, grabbing her coat. She could hear the voices of her mother and Beth getting louder as they came down the stairs after her.
Ben shook his head. “It’s a rental. I can’t.” He rubbed her biceps. “Just stay and talk this out.”
A small, pale hand appeared over her shoulder, holding a set of car keys. “Take mine, darling,” Nana Boo said. Kat turned to her in surprise. “It’ll be an excuse for you to come back.”
“Nana,” Kat whimpered, taking the keys. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t expla— Oh God. I just, I need to—”
“I know,” her grandmother interrupted with a small smile of understanding, and cupped the side of Kat’s face. She stroked her cheek with the flat of her thumb. “Go. I’ll look after your mother.”
Kat whispered, “Thank you,” and, with her bag in hand, she ran outside to the Jaguar XJ, unlocking it as she approached.
Her bag was thrown in, the keys were in the ignition, and her foot was to the floor as she sped down the driveway away from her friends and family. Kat tried her hardest to ignore the intense relief that consumed her as the miles mounted between them, and wished like hell for guilt to take its place.
It never did.
* * *
Carter had had a shitty week. And, because he was a bastard, he’d made everyone else’s week shitty, too.
He knew he’d been short-tempered with the guys at work, and his counseling sessions and home visits had been filled with uncooperative grunts and shrugs simply because he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it all. The only good thing about the week had been Carter’s session with Ross. He’d kicked seven shades of crap out of every piece of equipment that could handle it and, although it had made him feel better, he was still edgy as fuck.
He was starting to drive himself crazy. Hence why he’d decided to stay in on a Saturday night while Max and the boys went out. He really wasn’t in the mood for any of Max’s stupid shit. The asshole’s face was still a complete mess, but he was determined to go out, get wasted, and fuck anything with a pulse instead of dealing with his grief. Again.
Carter lit another smoke, and began strumming the opening chords of Kings of Leon’s “Fans” in an effort to relax. He peeked once again at his cell phone.
Nope. Still no fucking word.
The reason his panties were in such a goddamn awful bunch was simple. Peaches. The woman was gonna give him a heart attack, way before any pack of Marlboros or bottle of alcohol would. Dealing with her being away from him for a week was one thing. Having her ignore him, after they’d texted three days before, was another.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure the shit out.
The last he’d heard from her was a text asking if he could talk. He liked that she’d texted him, and he liked that she wanted to talk to him even more. Truthfully, he’d never had a relationship with a woman where conversations on the phone had happened. But he’d been more than enthusiastic to speak to Peaches.
He shoved the quiet cell phone across the leather. He wasn’t going to call her again. It’d gone to voice mail the other four times he’d tried, and his seven texts had gone unanswered.
He rubbed the heel of his hand across his sternum to soothe the heartburn that’d been plaguing him for days, and continued to strum, humming along.
The knock at the door of his apartment was as unexpected as it was inconvenient. If Max thought he could come and drag Carter’s miserable ass out into the city, he was in for a big surprise.
“Fuck off,” he mumbled, and flicked his smoke into the full ashtray. But the knocking came again, and this time, it was relentless. Slamming his guitar down onto the chair, Carter stormed barefoot across the loft to the door. Pulling back the dead bolt while still muttering curses, he swung the door open, ready to punch whichever motherfucker was disturbing his pity party for one.
Catching the door before it hit the wall, the ferocious expression on his face dropped like a rock in water.
“P-Peaches?”
She was standing there, looking a little worse for wear, in skinny black jeans and a red hooded top. Bizarrely, she was wearing flip-flops. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in mascara as though she’d been crying for days, or—from the way she was swaying—drinking.
“What’re you doing here?”
She rested against the doorframe and smiled, but it was forced and was gone far too quickly. Her eyes were flat, missing their shine.
“I came to see you,” she replied with a playful tap of her fingertip against his nose. Carter frowned. “Can I come in?”
“Um, yeah, yeah, sure,” he replied.
He watched her walk in like a timid animal, and closed the door behind her. Keeping his grip on the handle, he closed his eyes for a beat, trying to collect himself. He took a deep breath and turned around to find her staring back at him in a way that made his pulse race.
“Peaches,” he began, “how did you know where—”
Carter’s words were eaten up by Peaches’ mouth as it smashed into his own. She came at him with such force that his back thumped hard into the door behind him. Her hands were suddenly everywhere: his hair, his face, his chest—oh shit—his ass.
She felt good. So good, pressed against him, eager for him, wanting him. He wondered if she was wet and moaned into her mouth when her tongue slammed into his. She groaned loudly in answer and pushed her hips into his, begging him. He wanted to take her: hard, right there, slamming against the door, but the whole thing just seemed … wrong?
She kissed him with a desperation that wasn’t sexy. It was needy and panicked.
His hands, wrapped tightly around her waist, moved to her face, where he pushed her back. She panted against his cheek with her eyes closed and her lips still in a full, gorgeous pout.
“Peaches,” he gasped before swallowing. “Shit. Just … wait a second.”
“No,” she replied, burning her gaze into his. “I want you. I want you now”—she licked his throat—“inside me, fucking me, taking me.”
“Fuuuuck,” Carter moaned, rotating his hips against her, pushing his erection against her soft stomach.
“Yes!” She took his bottom lip between her teeth. “I can feel how hard you are, Carter. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me and that you want it as much as I do.”
“Want it?” Carter growled incredulously. He bent, grabbing the backs of her thighs, and yanked her off her feet so her legs wrapped around his waist, her heat pressing perfectly against his belly button, her flip-flops falling to the floor.
“Peaches, I don’t want it.” He pushed his face into her neck, smelling her peach-scented hair, and bit her skin, making her gasp. He sucked her earlobe. “Jesus Christ.” He lifted his face and placed his nose at the side of hers. “I fucking need it.”
Their lips met again, passionate and raw. My God, Carter had never experienced a need like it. It was all-consuming, heady. It swelled in his body, ready to erupt like a volcano: ready to erupt into her.
Her hands gripped the back of his neck as Carter staggered through his living room, bumping into the back of the couch. He leaned against it for one second while his hands shifted up and under her top, her soft skin against his palms.
Setting off with a grunt while Peaches moved her mouth to his jaw and began nibbling it in the sexiest, most sensual way, Carter moved toward his bedroom, wishing to all fuck that his bed would meet him halfway.
Carter was harder than he’d ever been in his entire life as his knees hit the side of his bed with a dull thump. Peaches lifted her mouth from his and pulled hard on his shoulders, toppling him, and making him fall forward onto the bed, on top of her. The feel of her legs wrapped around Carter’s waist while he ground against her was incredible. He bent her neck back and started kissing, licking, and biting her from her chin to her collarbone and back again. He was suddenly frantic with the need to consume her: every part of her.
There were no words for her taste. No fantasy had come close. “Perfection” seemed insanely inadequate.
He groaned, pushing his hips into her again, hungry for any kind of friction, and watched in awe as her back arched in pleasure. He had to get inside her, had to feel her around him.
Carter lifted onto his forearms and searched her face for any signs of hesitation. If he saw any he’d be devastated, but he had to know that she was sure. He could smell the sweet scent of Amaretto on her breath, which meant she wasn’t as sober as he would have liked, but the way in which she responded to his touch suggested she was as ready as he was.
Their eyes connected and a flash of something heart-wrenching crossed the green of her irises. He pulled back in concern. “Peaches,” he murmured, but her fingers pressed hard against his lips.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t think. Please. I need you to not think and just be with me.” She pulled his face back to hers and smothered his mouth with long kisses that set his bones alight.
Carter tried to listen to his gut, he tried to listen to the sensible part of his brain, but her mouth and hands were far too distracting. Swallowing his conscience with one huge gulp, he gripped the zipper of her top and pulled it down in one fluid movement.
Jesus.
No bra.
“Shit.” He licked his lips and just fucking stared. She was gorgeous; her dark stiff nipples ached to have his lips and tongue around them. “You’re— My God, you’re perfect.”
Before she could reply, Carter’s mouth fell against her right breast, where he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked as hard as he could. Sweet fruits. Her breasts were so perfectly heavy and full in his hands. With a guttural moan, Peaches’ legs wrapped farther around him, and her nails scored the fabric of his T-shirt. She gasped and whimpered into his buzzed hair.
“I need to feel you,” she groaned, pulling at the shirt’s hem. “Please let me feel you against me.”
Without a second’s pause, Carter released her nipple, grabbed the neck of his T-shirt, and yanked it over his head. He crashed back down onto her, grunting at the feel of her bare skin against his.
While he continued to worship her, she released her arms from the confines of her hooded top and—as soon as she was free of it—he grabbed her hands and pushed them above her head, crushing them into the mattress of the bed.
Their tongues met again between their mouths in the open air, twisting and dancing amid soft moans and silent confessions of feelings too big and scary to say aloud. Peaches gripped Carter’s fingers between hers and lifted her head from the bed, urgently seeking from him what Carter was more than willing to give. He wanted to give her everything, anything.
Fuck, he already had. He knew in his heart that she owned him.
“Say it,” she gasped against his cheek when he began licking at her jaw. “Say you want me. I need—I need to hear it. I need to hear it.”
Carter growled into her cleavage. “I want you.” His teeth grazed her sternum. “I’ve always wanted you.”
My whole life.
“Again,” she croaked, her voice trembling. “Tell me this is right. Tell me we’re right.”
Carter, stunned at her words, glanced up.
What he saw knocked every ounce of breath out of him. Her eyes were clenched shut, her face in an almost grimace of pain, and a small shimmer could be seen at the inside corner of her right eye. She was crying.
“Peaches,” he whispered, and lifted his body, terrified that he’d done something wrong, something she didn’t want. “What’s wrong? Did I— Was I too rough?”
Goddammit, he’d tried to be gentle.
She shook her head from side to side, her eyes remaining shut. “You’d never hurt me,” she murmured. “Would you, Carter? I know you’d never hurt me or lie to me. Would you?”
“Never,” he replied, his throat constricting in fear and confusion. “Please look at me.”
She remained quiet, keeping her eyes closed, but the lone tear trickling down her cheek spoke volumes.
“Christ, Katherine,” Carter begged in a voice even he didn’t recognize. “Please talk; you’re scaring the shit out of me.”
At his words, her eyes snapped open. The fire behind them was so fierce, Carter was momentarily dumbstruck.
“What did you call me?”
Carter stared at her, baffled. He shrugged. “I called you Katherine,” he answered in a calm voice. “Why?”
“You never call me that,” she retorted venomously.
“I know, I just … It just came out.”
“Get off me.”
Carter balked. “What?”
“Get. Off. Me!” She wrenched her hands free of his and pushed against him so hard, he landed on his back, bouncing as the bed took his weight.
“What the fuck?”
But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she grabbed for her hoodie, her hands shaking and her face twisted in anger. Carter watched her, helpless.
“Peaches!” she yelled, pulling on her top. “You always, always, always call me Peaches!”
“I know, but—”
“Only my mother calls me Katherine! My mother. Why tonight, huh? Why did you call me Katherine tonight?” She wasn’t even looking at him while she struggled to fasten her zipper. She seemed close to losing her shit completely.
“I don’t know,” Carter yelled back. He rubbed his face in frustration. “Christ, would you just breathe for a second? What the fuck is going on?”
Her eyes flew to his, huge and fierce. “What’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on. I came here for a good, hard fuck that I thought was a sure thing, and all I get is your damn mouth. That’s what’s going on, Carter!”
Even though her words stung, the fury inside him outweighed any part that hurt. He launched himself off the bed, beating her to the bedroom door, blocking that shit with every inch of himself.
“Get out of my way!” she demanded, moving to his right and trying to push under his arm. She was strong, but Carter wasn’t giving in.
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong with you,” he growled, knowing if he shouted the walls would crumble.
“You are what’s wrong with me.” She pushed again.
He stood firm and, for the first time since they’d entered the bedroom, Carter saw a glimmer of light shine behind her eyes. He’d surprised her.
“Talk to me.”
She moved to his left and pushed. “No!”
“Open your mouth and fucking speak!”
“No!”
He searched her face, seeing only tears, anger, and a profound sadness. “Why are you here?” he asked with a shake of his head. “Why? Why are you at my apartment, looking like death, after you’ve ignored my ass for two days?”
The force of her pushing dropped and her fingers began to grip into his skin. That shit hurt, but Carter was determined. “Why are you here, wanting me to fuck you, huh? Is this a game? Am I some sort of sick rehabilitation joke to you?”
She stood up straight and glared at him. “A joke,” she repeated. “My God, Carter. Do you think I find anything about this situation funny?”
“How the fuck would I know?” Carter asked sharply. “You don’t tell me anything.” His palms slapped the doorframe in frustration. “I get ignored or I get half-truths and mixed messages.”
She sucked in a shaking breath and stumbled back from him, yanking her sleeves down over her hands. Her face was desolate and pained, and Carter was sure, from the relentless ache inside him, he was suffering every single ounce of it.
“What the hell happened to you this week?” he demanded. All he could think was that someone had hurt her, and, if that were true, that same motherfucker would be read his last rights.
She began pacing, muttering garbled words. Carter, despising the unfamiliar behavior he saw, took a tentative step toward her, moving slowly away from the doorway.
He sure wished he hadn’t. As soon as she saw he’d moved, she made a mad dash for freedom. Carter moved to stop her and, in her haste to move out of his way, she skidded on the wood flooring and careened heavily into Carter’s arms, smashing the air from his body in a loud whoosh.
“Peaches, please,” Carter begged as the pair of them landed in a jumbled heap on the floor. She was still fighting him, still demanding him to let her go, but he wouldn’t give in.
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “You … you have to let me go.” Her hands were still pushing at his bare chest, but her strength was waning as the sobs began to overtake her.
“I’m not letting you go. I don’t give a shit what you do.” He held both of her wrists so they’d stop flailing about and stared deep into eyes awash with tears.
“I can’t. I can’t be here. Everything. Everyone hates— I hurt, I … Carter.”
Carter tucked her head under his chin and rubbed her hair in an effort to calm her. “Shhh. I’m here. I’m here. I won’t let you go. I’ll never let you go.”
Her small shoulders shook and, when Carter loosened his grip on her wrists, she threw her arms around his neck and held him as tightly as he imagined she could. And that was fine. He wanted her to hold him. He wanted to soothe whatever pain she was going through and then find the culprit and make them pay dearly.
“I want my dad,” she whimpered into his throat, his skin becoming wet from her tears.
Carter froze, his hand stilling against her. “What?”
“My dad. I miss him so, so much.” Her voice was hoarse and weak, but the desperate grief lacing her words was like a foghorn.
“I know.” Carter closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on her head. “I know, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she repeated, each word punctuated with a soft hiccough.
Carter continued to rub her hair, stealing soft kisses along the part. “What’re you sorry for?”
“I … I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t stop them. What they did to him. I couldn’t stop them.” Her arms tightened around Carter’s neck. “He told me to run. I shouldn’t have run.”
Carter’s heart thundered. Did she remember? Did she know he’d pulled her away, saved her?
“Today,” she whispered. “Sixteen years ago today, and I miss him so fucking much, Carter.”
Outwardly, Carter was motionless. Inside his skull, his brain moved a million miles a second. Could it really have been sixteen years since they’d first met under such violent, horrific circumstances?
“It was today?”
Her fingers tightened at the nape of his neck, and her nose rubbed along his jaw.
Carter clenched his eyes shut. Holy shit. He pulled her closer, burying his face into the space between her neck and shoulder. She was perfect against him, so soft and delicate. Images and sounds of the night in question flashed behind his eyelids and blared loudly inside his head: her screams, her whimpers, the police gunfire, the color of her dress, and the paleness of her skin.
“I missed you so much,” she whimpered. “I missed you so much this week, Carter. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” She kissed the tip of his shoulder. “I had my whole family around me, and all I wanted was you.”
Carter’s eyes rolled back at the sound of her words and the feel of her lips on his skin. “Shhh, you’re here now,” he replied. “I’ll look after you.”
After a moment of silence, Carter pushed his free arm under her knees and pulled her securely to him. After a couple of attempts, on wobbling legs, he managed to stand, cradling her in his arms. He walked slowly toward the bed; his nose pressed against her wet cheek while he whispered words of comfort to her: “I’m here. It’s okay. Hold on to me.”
Never letting any single part of her go, he lay down on the bed and held her closely.
And, just as he had sixteen years before, in a cold doorway in the Bronx, he held on to his Peaches so fucking hard as she grieved for the father who’d been so cruelly taken from her.