I try to push the fear down as I dress, but it clings to me. All I can do is be there for him. Support him and maybe, somehow, use whatever strange calming effect I have on Brutus to help.
When I finally emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed, Carter is leaning against the doorframe. He looks rough, hair disheveled, eyes slightly bloodshot, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. He’s wearing clean jeans, a button-up checkered shirt, his hair still partially wet as if he just recently stepped out of the shower.
He’s gorgeous.
“Hello, handsome,” I say, unable to suppress my smile.
“Hello, sexy girl.” His voice is raspier than usual, but his grin is the same. Warm. Genuine. “I missed you.”
“I know.” I close the distance between us, reaching up to cup his face. “I read your poem.”
Something shifts in his expression, eyes narrowing.
“You make me so happy when I read them,” I continue. “You know that, right? Every single one. I keep them all.”
“You do?”
“Yep, I read them when I need to remember that good things exist in this world.”
His hands find my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies are flush. The scent of him wraps around me. “Then my job is done,” he murmurs, but his eyes are serious, searching my face.
“Carter, I…” I pause, suddenly overwhelmed by everything I’m feeling. The fear about today. The gratitude for his words. The bone-deep certainty that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. “Your poems mean everything to me. You mean everything to me.”
He smiles.
“I love you,” I whisper, revealing the truth.
“June.”
I’m blushing furiously now, looking away, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to scare you off, as I know we’re still getting to know each other and?—”
His finger hooks under my chin, tilting my face up until I have no choice but to look at him. His expression steals my breath.
“You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that.”
“Oh…”
“I love you.” Carter’s voice cracks on the words, raw and honest and utterly without pretense. “I love you so fucking much, June. I know this feels fast and it seems crazy, but what I feel for you is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”
A tear escapes down my cheek. He catches it with his thumb, gentle as a whisper.
“I spent years running from anything real after I lost my brother in a rodeo,” he continues, swallowing hard like the memory still has teeth. “Hiding behind pretty words and easy smiles. Telling myself I was fine and it didn’t matter that I was hollow as long as I could keep moving.”
His hand shifts, settling at my jaw like he needs the contact to keep himself steady, and my heart breaks for him.
“I thought my job in this world was simple,” he says. “Ride the circuit the way he did. Win what he never got to win and be there where he can’t be, so he’s never forgotten. Like if I stayed on that road long enough, if I kept throwing myself into it, I could keep him alive in the only way that made sense.”
He lets out a shaky breath, and his eyes shine like he hates that they do. I hold on to him. “You have been doing amazing.”
“So I stayed,” he murmurs. “Part of me believed quitting would mean letting his love for it die twice. And part of me… I didn’t know who I was without the circuit in my blood. I kept showing up, kept doing the work, kept chasing that promise. Some days it felt noble. Some days it felt like I was using the arena to punish myself.”
His thumb strokes my cheek again, slower now.
“But you…” His gaze locks on mine. “You make me want more than survival. You make me want a future, a home I come back to, a family. Something that isn’t just me trying to outrun grief.”
“Oh, Carter, I am always here for you.”
His forehead drops to mine. “You make me want to stay for real, June. You make me want to be the man those poems describe instead of just the man who writes them.”
