Boss man.
I’ve been so lazy about looking into her. I may not have the resources I used to have, but I still know how to check out a basic fucking story and make sure it makes sense. I should’ve asked more questions about her internship. I should fact check the information she gives me. I should ask more questions, like how someone without a job can afford to buy me a bunch of Christmas shit when she’s paying her sister’s tuition.
I should look up Gavin Halstead and find out why she thinks I’d judge her for getting involved with him.
There are a lot of things I should do, and I don’t want to do any of them. I just want to climb into bed with her and ignore the shaky ground we’re standing on. Let her wrap her arms around me, breathe in the coconut, and close my fucking eyes.
It’s all falling apart. All it took was one text message.
This is why I can’t fucking trust people. Everything is a lie. My whole fucking life has just been one lie after the other. I just want it to stop.
By the time my shower ends, I’m too tired to go next door and take Carly her ice cream sandwich. It won’t go the way I want it to, anyway.
I grab my phone and check the messages, but I haven’t heard from her since last night. I don’t even know if she’ll answer me, but I stare at the screen for a minute, then type out, “Can you come over?”
She reads it after just a few seconds and sends back an unenthusiastic, “Yeah.”
I let her know the door is unlocked, but I don’t move from my bed. Eventually, Carly stands in the doorway, looking in at me. She’s wearing black leggings and a huge sweater that bares on her shoulders. She’s holding a little rectangular package wrapped in red and black plaid paper, a fabric ribbon wrapped around it and tied in a bow.
I almost laugh. “You brought me a present?”
She steps across the threshold and sets the present down on my dresser instead of bringing it over to me. “It’s the one I got for you yesterday.”
Now she approaches me, but she remains by the side of the bed instead of climbing on.
It feels a little like my dream. Like there’s a sheet of glass between us, and I shouldn’t touch her.
I do anyway. I take her by the hips and pull her on top of me, just to see if she’ll come. She does. She moves her legs so she’s straddling me, sitting on top of me. My stupid dick stirs, reminding me how many times we’ve started something and left it unfinished. I ignore it, reaching up and brushing a hand along her jawline. I want to see if she’ll give me more, so I pull her down until she’s lying on top of me and I kiss her.
She kisses me back, but she still feels withdrawn. I get the feeling I could roll her over, spread her legs, and fuck her—but she would go through the motions, emotionally removed.
I swallow down dread at the thought of reliving an experience like that.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
Her gaze remains on my chest, not my face. I think she’s trying to figure out how to say something that either she doesn’t like, or she thinks I won’t like. After a moment, she comes up with, “I realize that when other people aren’t around I may respond to things a little differently and be more tolerant of certain things, but you can’t do stuff like that when my little sister’s around. She didn’t hear or see anything, but she could have, and that would have looked… It would have appeared to her that I’m not in a very safe relationship, and I don’t want her worrying about that.”
Her words are like a knife in my gut. The way she delivers them, it’s like she’s trying to protect me from my own reality. She doesn’t want to accuse me of anything, but she wants to let me know we have to keep the way I act a secret so no one gets concerned for her.
Shame coils around my heart and squeezes. I am my father’s fucking son.
“I don’t want you to feel that way, Carly.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not trying to make you feel badly.”
“I know, that’s why you’re making me feel terrible. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to be… a shameful secret you have to keep. You don’t deserve that.”
Carly cocks her head to the side, her brow furrowing as she studies me. After a moment, she sighs. I don’t know why. Then she leans in, a bit of warmth coming back to her. Her hands move through my hair and she gives me another kiss, a better kiss, a kiss she wants to give me.