He’d think about having a new tutor and the antagonism he would feel toward them later. Now was not the time. “But I’ll still have you, right?”
She slid her palm down the side of his face. “You’ll have all of me.”
He gripped the back of her knee and pulled it higher above his hip. She pushed her hands under his T-shirt, her nails grazing his back, while her tongue pushed into his mouth. He could taste her fear and pushed back just as hard to soothe her.
“Fuck them, Kat,” he growled. “Come back to me. Be here with me. Right now,” he demanded. “Don’t think about them. Just think about us.”
There was so much to discuss. So much to think about. There was so much at risk that could tear them apart. Carter clenched his eyes shut, pushing his dread as far away as he could. As long as they were together, he thought, everything would be all right.
“Make me forget. Please,” she begged. “Make me forget all of them.”
Carter rolled her onto her back, hovering above her. “Anything.”
29
Days passed, gradually folding into weeks as Kat and Carter continued to fold into each other. Cautious and careful, they continued to meet at the library three days a week, working as they were expected, while at night they worshipped each other’s bodies in an effort to keep at bay the things that threatened to tear them apart. For those sweet, blissful hours when their limbs entangled and their names became frenzied gasps of pleasure, everything floated away, leaving them to imagine what being together without worry or recrimination would be like.
Carter watched his Peaches carefully from one day to the next, hopelessly aware that the strain of their situation had begun chipping away at her resolve. Outwardly, she appeared the same, beautiful and put together, but he’d begun to notice, when they were alone, she held on to him a little tighter, touched him more frequently, more fervently, as though terrified that what they’d built together would collapse around them at any second.
Carter wasn’t naïve. He knew the obstacles. He worried just as much as she did. His cousin was an asshole of the highest order, no doubt plotting a retaliation that would be sure and swift. Max was still falling into blow with no regard for those who cared for him, and Kat’s mother called incessantly, despite Kat’s insistence that she didn’t want to speak to her.
Shit outside of their bubble was not copacetic. Nevertheless, Carter knew he had to be strong for them both. He’d do anything to help see that smile of Kat’s he adored so much, which was why he insisted she look through Beth’s folder of good intentions for a new job when, after two weeks, it still sat untouched on her coffee table. And why he agreed to accompany her when she returned her grandmother’s car to Chicago in time for Thanksgiving.
To agree to the latter, and doing family-type shit, highlighted just how insane he fucking was. But, truthfully, the thought of Kat being away from him for any amount of time was excruciating. He’d just have to nut up and shut the fuck up.
Kat’s small hand shot out across the car’s center console and covered Carter’s leg, which jumped up and down in earnest. Unable to throw himself from Nana Boo’s Jag and hightail it back to his apartment, Carter settled for decimating the side of his thumbnail, which he shoved inelegantly between his teeth, gnawing on it like a motherfucker.
“Sweetheart, relax.” Kat glanced at him and then back to the road. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Carter scoffed.
Fine? Fine? Was she insane?
Her confidence in both him and the situation was endearing as hell, but his brain had been on fast-forward since they’d left the apartment. Oh God, the fumbling, nervous verbal vomit that would no doubt happen when he met Kat’s favorite family member was enough to turn his stomach inside out. His nerves were just about shot to shi—
“I love you.”
Carter’s eyes closed briefly before they slid over to the breathtaking creature next to him. His hand dropped loudly from his mouth to his lap.
“And Nana Boo will, too.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I just know it.”
How the hell did she do that? She knew exactly what to say to help calm him down, and, although the need to leap out of the car was still heavy in his stomach, her words made it all the more bearable.
He kissed her temple. “Thanks.” Even though the sentiment seemed grossly inappropriate for how she made him feel, it was all he had. Carter sat back, keeping her hand tightly on his thigh, fingers entwined, securing himself to her. With a deep breath, he stared out of the car window, watching the world whizz by. They had a long drive ahead of them: nine hours, a stop overnight in a motel, and then another six to Chicago.
He looked at the clock.
Only another eight and a half hours to go.
Terrific. Plenty of time to get riled up.
His cell phone chimed from his jeans pocket. He read the display: Max calling …
“Hey, man.”
“Where the hell are you?” Max’s words were sharp, high, and slurred.
The idiot was filling his nose at nine in the damn morning. The shit was getting out of hand.
Carter sighed. “I’m headed to Chicago, Max. Where are you?” The faint sound of a female voice sounded in the background. “Who’s with you?”
Ignoring his question, Max retorted, “What the fuck are you going there for?” His tone made Carter bristle.
“Thanksgiving,” he replied firmly. “Kat invited me. I told you about it, remember? You said you’d be chillin’ at Paul’s.”
Max laughed, though it sounded humorless. “Oh yeah. You and Kat. The happy fucking couple.”
Here we go again. There was a crash on the line, something hitting the floor, and high-pitched giggling that could only be chemical-induced. “Max. Are you okay? What’s up?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he spat. “You clearly have better things to do, brother. You always do.”
Carter’s temper spiked. “That’s not true. Don’t be a dick, Max.”
But the line went dead. Carter stared at the cell screen, incredulous and angry. He and Max had spoken little about his and Kat’s relationship, not least of all because Max’s bitterness and anger over Lizzie clouded his ability to see how happy Carter was. The more Carter felt for Kat, the madder Max appeared to become. Carter’s joy was apparently of little importance to Max, who was too involved in his own despair. The amount of coke he was doing daily simply exacerbated the situation.
And Carter was powerless to stop it.
Every time he offered to help—be it money or support—he was met with resistance. Max’s pride was almost as difficult to penetrate as his stubbornness. Carter and Paul had discussed an intervention—the only place for Max now was rehab—but both men knew that would only end badly.
“Everything okay?” Kat’s expression was anxious.
“No.” Carter sent a quick text to Cam and Paul, telling them to go to the shop and make sure Max hadn’t choked on his own vomit or some shit. In irritation, he began fiddling with the radio, playing station commando for a good five minutes, appreciative of the fact that Kat didn’t push further.
“Don’t forget you have to call Diane when we cross the state line,” Kat said instead.
“Yeah, I know,” he replied, settling back in the leather seat of the Jag XJ and letting the sounds of Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” relax into his bones. Carter hummed along and played the invisible chords of the song against the blue vein in Kat’s wrist. He brought Kat’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle.
She hummed. “Tell me what it is you’re worried about.”
He replied with a peevish shrug, like that shit would discourage her from asking questions. Truth was, there was no escaping Kat and anything she asked him. His ass remained trapped in a cream leather bucket seat traveling across the country at seventy miles an hour.
Awesome.
“Tell me.”
Carter clasped the bridge of his nose. “I’m worried about a lot of things. I can’t think of just one.”