“Don’t you dare hang up on me, Mother! Don’t you—” Awail emerges when the line cuts off. “Fuck you, Nate Archer.” Footsteps draw nearer. “Fuck you, and your—”
A dark chuckle erupts as a shadow falls over me. I lift my gaze to the landing above, locking eyes with the man I once considered a friend.
“Well, would you look at that! Nate motherfucking Archer. What a pleasure seeing you here. Would you like a tour of the place, or did you already get one when you barged in?” Carter mocks, his eyes red and smile wide. It drops the second he takes a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand.
An alcoholic. That explains the mess downstairs.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a tour of the place.” I push off the wall with a foot to stand straight. “Very well kept. We could use some of your tips over at Archer Av—”
“Shut up!” Carter raises his free hand, eyes closed as if it pains him.
He tries making his way past me, but I’m quick enough to grasp his arm, forcing him to look at me.
“What do you want?” Carter snaps, nostrils flaring and canines flashing like an angry dog.
“I think you know what I want, Carter.”
Blue eyes roll to the back of his head—the movement extra slow from what I can only assume is the alcohol in his system. He wiggles his arm, trying to free himself from my grasp. I let go, letting him think he has the upper hand.
Drunk and unsteady, he tries making his way down the stairs, an arm stretched outward, and fingers dragging along the wall for support. But at the last step, he stumbles, knees meeting the floor hard.
I follow him, slow and deliberate as he shuffles to the only exit, and like a pathetic coward, he tries slamming the door right in my face. I step back in time to dodge it and slip out after him a few seconds later.
Like clockwork, Carter gets off the ground, hands raised in defense, the whiskey bottle somehow still intact. “What do you want from me, Nate?” he asks while walking backward. “Have you not done enough damage to my life?”
I huff in disbelief at the words he has the confidence to utter.
“I should be saying those things to you.” My steps are slow as I close the distance between us. “You’re the one whostolefrom me—not once but twice. Then you conveniently sent me an unreleased document detailing my involvement in the death of my fiancée’s parents. For what reason, Carter? Please enlighten me.”
Steam practically pours from Carter’s ears as he lets out a furious growl and charges toward me. Even when drunk, he’s stupidly fast—but not fast enough.
I sidestep at the last second, and he barrels straight into the wall behind, free-falling onto the metal trash can. The cover blows right over his nose, and by the sound of horror that leaves his lips and the blood that oozes out, he must have broken something.
I stand just above him, making a show of dusting my clean hands. “No need to do the dirty work when the universe is willing to do it for me. They do say karma is a bitch.” I nod, lips pursed, agreeing to my own words.
“Fuck you, Archer.” Carter groans, grasping his nose.
He scrambles backward on two elbows only to topple over again. I’m standing next to him when it happens, reveling in what I like to think is the sight of well-earned revenge.
“Would you just leave me alone?” The tears streaming down his face mingle with the blood. A crimson river forms across his cheeks, dripping to stain the snow below.
“I would, but unfortunately, I’m looking for answers.” I look down at my nails as though bored. “Now, would you please explain yourself. It’s nearing dinnertime.”
The man laughs again, though this time with far more hysteria than the last. “What do you want me to say, Nate? Do you want me to reminisce about our time at MIT together?” He steadies himself, daring to make eye contact with me.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to taking a walk down memory lane if it clears up my confusion.”
“Fuck you and your stupid comebacks.” He spits out blood. “You always thought you were so damn witty.Mr. I-got-into-MITon scholarship while I was there because my parents pulled strings.” He laughs, a broken sound, teeth stained red. “Can you believe it? My parents donated a state-of-the-art building, and they still had to bribe the school to let me in!”
I still at the admission. Now that’s a new piece of information.
I knew Carter came from money—his parents are part of a long line of oil tycoons—but I always thought he got in on his own merit.
At least, he made it seem that way.
“What else do you want me to say, Nate? That I wasn’t good enough to graduate, so my parents had to bribe every professor to make me pass?”
It all makes sense now.Ego. Despite my reluctance, he always wanted to compare grades. And every time he saw that mine were better than his, I could feel the anger rise within him.
