“You didn’t think I might want input into this?”
“Yes, but I knew you’d come up with a thousand anxiety-based excuses that all can be boiled down to ‘Owen doesn’t want to piss off Mom.’ Your sister and brother are young. They have a right to get to know you, and you them. Your dad admits he’s not perfect, but says he didn’t want to make life harder for you with her.”
I’m still…stunned.
“How did you explain your involvement in my life to him?”
“The truth—I’m your roommate, your best friend, and I’ve adopted you as my little brother. I’m almost eight years older than you, and have a much better perspective on this whole thing than you do. Oh, and that I despise your mother and how she treats you.”
He grins.
Literally grins.
Carter doesn’t grin very often.
Speechless, I sit back and do what I’ve become accustomed to doing since this started, and that means doing exactly what Carter tells me to do.
* * * *
Carter has to unlock my collar and remove it before we pass through the TSA checkpoint because he doesn’t want to hold up the line having me manually checked. He relocks it around my neck when we reach the other side.
His Achilles’ heel shows up as our plane pulls away from the gate in Tampa and taxis to the runway. I’ve flown a couple of times, and Susa’s apparently got frequent flyer miles.
Carter, however, appears legit terrified.
I’ve vacillated between hating them and loving them ever since the revelation last night, but this is a new and unexpected wrinkle.
In everything else Carter does, he is completely unflappable.
Until now.
I’m sitting in the middle, with Carter on the aisle and Susa at the window. She’s already donned a sleep mask and one of those U-shaped travel pillows is around her neck. If it wasn’t for her hand settling on my thigh, I’d think she was already asleep.
He doesn’t speak much during the flight, doesn’t settle in to read, the way I do, or sleep, like Susa. He orders a soda water to drink and then basically sits there with his hands wrapped around his armrests.
He is terrified, even though he’s trying to hide it.
Ironically, that makes me feel better.ThisCarter I know how to deal with, because I’m the one who’s spent months helping him through nightmares.
That’s why, only thirty minutes into our flight, I pry his right hand off his armrest and put it on my left thigh, patting the top of his hand before I focus on my Kindle again.
He gives my thigh a little squeeze and leaves his hand right there.
If I can be a comfort to him, all the better.
Once we reach Las Vegas, Carter takes over renting the car, because he’s older than we are. Which is a weird thing to think about, because Susa acts older than me.
I default to taking the backseat after holding the passenger door for Susa. When the three of us are together and Carter’s driving, that’s our standard permutation. If I’m driving, Carter rides shotgun. Our first stop after the airport is a mystery, until we pull into the parking lot of a steakhouse.
“What are we doing here?”
“I don’t know,” Carter snarks. “I thought maybe spa treatments, pedicures. What do youthink, boy? Dinner.”
“I…I can’t afford this.”
Carter turns, a stern look on his face. “Boy,stop. I’m paying—”
Susa clears her throat.
