‘Three thousand words.’ Turning to the shelves, he frowned at the books as if they held all the answers to life’s problems. ‘Ludicrous deadline.’
From beneath her lashes, Allie watched the side of his face, looking for any sign that what had just happened meant anything real but he seemed utterly absorbed in the book titles.
Dropping her gaze, she exhaled through pursed lips. She must have imagined the whole thing. That wistful look … it was all in her head.
God. Why couldn’t she just let them be friends?
‘As usual,’ she said, turning to look at the shelves, too, although the titles were a blur and she didn’t really know what she was looking for.
Pulling down a heavy book, Carter whistled under his breath as he opened it, flipping through the pages.
‘The assignment’s a bit vague, right?’ he said. ‘I mean, three thousand words on empire is like … “Give me five thousand words on the history of the world.”’
Allie snorted her agreement and chose a book at random. When she opened it, a tiny cloud of dust arose. She sneezed.
‘Bless you,’ he said solemnly.
As if that were some sort of an insult, she slammed the book shut and turned to him.
‘Listen, Carter, I just think we need to talk.’
Clearly startled, he leaned back. ‘About empire? Because I had nothing to do with that.’
‘No.’ She shoved the dusty book back on the shelf where she’d found it. ‘About … things.’
‘Things?’ Carter pulled down another book and looked at it with too much interest.
Now that Allie was in this she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. But she had to keep going.
‘When I came back, that first day, you were so pissed off at me and I didn’t know why …’
‘I have anger issues,’ he said. ‘I thought you knew that.’ His tone was mild but she could see the corners of his mouth twitch.
‘Don’t make jokes about this,’ she protested. ‘I just thought we should … talk about why you were so angry. Or just, you know … talk. Because I missed you.’
She hadn’t meant to be quite so honest but there it was. She’d done it now.
Carter’s smile disappeared. He didn’t seem to know what to say. For a second he kept turning pages. Then he set the book down and met her gaze with guarded eyes.
‘I missed you, too,’ he said at last. ‘And I’m sorry I seemed angry. I’m an arse. I guess I was just surprised. And … well. Worried for you.’
Allie’s brow lowered. ‘Have you ever considered talking? That’s a traditional method for handling concern in our culture.’
‘I know … I’m sorry about that. Communication hasn’t been my thing lately.’ He leaned back against the shelves, watching her. He looked like he was afraid of what she might say next.
She knew just how he felt.
‘Why were you so … worried?’ she asked.
He made a vague gesture with one hand. ‘Because I thought you were safe out there. As you can tell, things are less than safe here. And I didn’t know what had happened to you out there.’
‘No one told you about the shooting?’ Allie said.
His lips tightening, he shook his head. ‘I know now. Isabelle told me. And Sylvain filled in the details. I can’t …’ His voice trailed off but she saw how his muscles tensed. ‘Once I knew … I understood why you had to come back.’
‘Still,’ Allie said gently, ‘it’s not like you to act like that. Not lately, anyway.’
A long silence followed. He didn’t meet her gaze. She got the feeling he was trying to decide whether or not to reply.
‘While you were gone …’ he began at last. He paused before starting up again. ‘Lately, I guess I haven’t been in a great place mentally.’
His frankness took Allie by surprise.
‘Because of Jules?’
His eyes met hers and glanced away. ‘Because of Jules and a lot of stuff.’
‘You know it’s not your fault … right?’ Allie said.
His face darkened. ‘You know Jo’s death wasn’t your fault. Right?’
His words were as quick and painful as a snake bite. Allie drew in her breath.
Instantly contrite, he raked his fingers through his dark hair. ‘God, Allie, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.’
‘It wasn’t fair.’ Her voice quivered and she knotted her hands at her sides. ‘Was it?’
He reached out his hand as if to comfort her but stopped at the last minute and rested it on a shelf instead, like he’d always meant to put it there.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t. I seem to be …’ Biting his lip, he tapped his knuckles against the shelf. Allie got the feeling he’d like to put his fist through it but was restraining himself. ‘I seem to be unfair a lot lately.’
‘I know what that’s like,’ Allie said. ‘You know I do.’ She took a step towards him – invading the wide circle of personal space he’d created. ‘You can talk to me about this stuff, Carter. I really do understand. Probably more than most people. Like you get my panic attacks. I get this … stuff.’
Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)
C.J. Daugherty's books
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