“We’re just very glad you were able to come with him this evening, Carter,” she says. Her smile looks right, but the arctic chill in her eyes tells the true tale. I’m not her favorite person right now, but she doesn’t think I did this deliberately. She also knows she can’t complain about it for fear of looking bad in the eyes of her friends, or without someone wondering if Ididbring my medication, but now it’s disappeared.
That would be more horrifying to her than someone spotting a cockroach in the middle of the dinner table.
“I truly appreciate your hospitality, Mrs. Solemar. I had a wonderful evening. It was great to get out of the dorm tonight. We’re usually busy studying and don’t get out that often. Especially with as badly as I’m usually hurting. Owen’s so nice, he hangs out with me, brings me food from the dining hall, runs errands for me—he really takes care of me.” I don’t want her to think Owen has a life—or fun—away from her.
“You’re welcome back any time, Carter. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Oh, I’ve got a hot news flash for her—from this point forward, she’s never seeing her son outside of my presence.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Frankly, she’s never settingeyeson her son in person again, if I have anything to say about it.
I make a mental note to step up my contact with Gerard Taylor.
Owen’s father.
I friended him on Facebook a couple of weeks ago and was open about why I was approaching him on the sly—that I’m Owen’s friend and roommate, that I’m older than Owen, that I could tell Owen was troubled regarding his relationship with his mother, and because I want to help Owen.
Fortunately, the man doesn’t strike me as an asshole, so we’ll see what happens there. I haven’t told Owen any of this yet. His father has agreed to keep it quiet, for now, knowing what a shit Elandra can be. The secrecy works to my advantage and gives me time to plan.
We say our good-byes and Owen retrieves our blazers. Now it’s after dark, and I hold Owen’s arm as we make our way outside and down the front walk.
Admittedly, being able to hold on to Owen was another reason I left my cane at home.
I’m a bastard—so sue me.
“You okay?” I softly ask once we’re about a house away.
“Yeah. Thank you.” He doesn’t sound okay. He sounds anythingbutokay.
“It’s all right.” It’s not, but it’s as all right as I can make it for him tonight.
He leads me over to the passenger side and opens the door for me, helping me in. I lean over and start the car for him as he rounds the front and slides behind the wheel.
“Stop just outside the development,” I order with more than a little command and control tone.
Dom tone.
I’ve never used it on him quite like this before, and hope he doesn’t rebel.
He doesn’t. “Yes, sir.” His quiet tone rips at my soul. My poor boy is miserable right now, and I feel helpless.
I hate feeling like this. I want todo, tofix.
Until he’s officially mine, though, all I can do is be a friend.
He doesn’t start crying until after we’ve swapped places and I’m behind the wheel. Tonight I settle for patting him on the thigh and letting him cry it out. It’s stress, it’s a lifetime of toxic patterns, it’s fear—and right now, it’s probably mostly relief.
He’s out, he’s free, and he’s relatively unscathed, for tonight.
We’re almost to Lakeland on I-4 before he speaks. “Thank you.”
“Little bro, I’ve got your six. You don’t even need to ask. This is a given.Thisis what family does for each other.”
I know it’s playing dirty, but I want him to see me like that. I want that familiarity. I want his defenses completely down around me.
I need to see him without filters and protective walls.
