“When?”
He stood up straight. “When I thought I could look you in the eye.”
The funny thing was, he was looking me right in the eye, but his arms were crossed and his knees were locked. He was telling me about his vulnerability in a defensive position.
“You don’t let someone stew and feel like shit and wonder what she did wrong because you’re ashamed to talk to her. That’s on you. I like you. I don’t . . .” A sob hitched. I was so mad, so upside down, so hurt I could barely think. “I don’t like you. You’re a jerk. Nobody likes a jerk. But I feel . . .” I tried to talk myself out of continuing by swallowing a bunch of gunk that had lodged in my throat. “I thought I loved you.”
“Emily—”
“Shut up. I love you.”
He kissed me in response, running his full lips across mine and back, until my mouth came alive for him. He didn’t flick his tongue against mine to arouse me, even though the taste of it was pure sex. He spoke without words, leading me into him just enough to crack my resolve. I could fall into those cracks, back into the shell. I could be safe in him and a mouth that quieted me.
My hands pressed against his chest, feeling how firm and stable he was, how real and strong, then I pushed him away.
“I want more.” I let my hands slide down, appreciating every hard curve under his shirt.
“How much more?”
I opened the car door. The dome light went on and the dashboard beeped.
“Just more.”
I got into the car. He stretched across the distance between the door and the chassis.
“You have to come back for the cat.”
“Take care of her.”
“I’ll take care of her as if she were you.”
He stood straight and let me close the door.
CHAPTER 56
CARTER
Phin was allowed on his phone only until seven o’clock at night. Then it was to be on the charging shelf by the breakfast nook, facedown. If I happened to stroll into the kitchen after seven, I’d often find him at the nook, reading a magazine upside down. If I picked up his phone, it wouldn’t be sleeping or locked, because he’d put it down in a hurry when he heard me coming.
After I watched Emily’s car turn the corner, and after I decided to let her go without following, I picked up the cat’s eating and shitting provisions and went to the house. Phin was on the couch, petting the cat. The rug was wrinkled, and the blanket was off the chair by the front window as if he’d hurried back to the couch when he saw me walking back.
He sneezed.
“How’s your mouth?” I asked. The crying tiger had a heat that lingered for hours. He’d eaten all of it like a warrior.
“Better.” He sneezed again.
I dropped the cat supplies by the door.
“Do you want some antihistamine?”
“I’ll get it.”
He dashed for the kitchen. By the time I got there, he was standing on a chair, reaching for the medicine shelf. I plucked the box out of his hand.
“What did you see? Out front?”
“Nothing.” He swung the chair back to the corner.
“What kind of nothing?” I asked, pushing a pink pill through the foil.
“The kissing kind of nothing.” He held out his hand, and I dropped the pill in it. He swallowed without water, a disconcerting habit he’d begun when he started taking daily medication.
“Ah.”
“You know,” he said, wiggling his shoulders as if he was nervous about saying what he was about to say but was resigned to the fact that he was going to say it, “you really should go after her.”
“You don’t do that when a woman leaves. You respect her.”
“Not in a stalkery way. More in a . . . kind of . . . ‘Hey, I like you and don’t go away mad’ kind of way.”
“You got that from the kissing kind of nothing?”
“Might have heard a little of it too.”
“I can’t leave you here alone.”
“No, Dad. Really. You need to go and get her.”
He’d called me Dad again. Was it a choice or force of habit?
“Don’t you have homework?”
“No. I don’t. Okay, but really. I’m old enough to be home alone until Gram gets back. Seriously.”
“Not yet.” I walked out, but he followed.
“When? When are you going to stop?” His voice seemed older, surer, deeper. But when I turned around, he was a little boy again. “I know, okay? I know about Mom and who she was. And I lived. And I’m going to live a long time thinking about it, but dude . . . just asking . . . When are you going to live?”
Did he just call me dude?
“Phin.” I intended for my tone to be threatening, but there was too much pleading in it.
“She’s nice. All I’m saying. She’s nice, and you like her.”
When he looked away, it wasn’t out of submission or humility. I knew him that well. It was because he didn’t want me to see sadness.
“What happened with that girl?” I asked.
Shrug. “Summer. Her name’s Summer. Not as nice.”
“What happened?”
This was what worried me, in addition to everything else. His friends would backstab him over his mother. They’d invent nicknames and taunt him. They’d exchange knowing looks over a situation they knew nothing about.
“I heard her talking to her friends about how much money Gary Singh had . . . He doesn’t have a lot . . . or maybe he does, but he doesn’t dress like it or act like it, and his dad drives a Toyota. Which she was making fun of, which . . . It made me not like her so much anymore.”
More shrugging.
“Good call.” I walked up a few stairs before he called up.
“Are you going to get her?”
I didn’t answer him; I just kept walking to my room.
I couldn’t go chasing after the woman I loved looking like a bum.
CHAPTER 57
EMILY
I drove home with his taste on my lips, my heart beating in the rhythm of that kiss. The cadence of it changed me. I drew breath re-creating it. I didn’t have words for what had changed, just a feeling of transformation between Carter and me that altered the patterns of how I fit into the world.
He didn’t know what he’d done. He didn’t know what he wanted any more than I did. His life had been spun around, and he was just starting to get his feet under him. Expecting him to commit to anything but cat-sitting was unfair.
The streets were so familiar, yet the route was so new that I missed my turn, overshooting my block by a quarter mile or more. I came around and pulled into the driveway, opening my window so I could reach the keypad.
The number 8 stuck a little before it clicked. Could have been left over from the other night. Could be new trouble.
I sighed as the gate clattered open. The sigh was acceptance of a course of action I’d kept locked in a cage. It was the key to freedom. A breath strong enough to turn the tumbler so the animal could escape.
I parked the car calmly. Popped the trunk. Got my Louisville Slugger. Closed the trunk just as the driveway gate snapped shut.