I don't say anything. I merely stand beside Carter as he stares blankly at the scene before him. It's a scene I still see vividly in my head.
"This…" he begins, then swallows thickly.
"Carter. I'd hoped you'd skip this one."
He shakes his head, not looking away from the dark painting. "I can't. It's exactly what I saw when I… heard."
I reach over and thread my fingers with his, squeezing his hand a bit. We've never discussed what he went through, and yet I know it was a majorly traumatic incident for him. He needed extensive therapy, but even I know therapy can't rid a person of the memories.
"I wish you'd hung up," I whisper, watching his face.
"What? How could I? I couldn't leave you alone, Tera. I just… you needed me," he says, voice cracking.
I tug his hand and he looks down at me, this big amazing man who was just a boy then.
"Thank you."
He nods. "You know I'd do anything for you."
"I know." I reach up to touch his cheek and he leans into my hand. He's got a few days' worth of stubble on his face and it tickles my thumb as I rub it across his cheek.
He pulls me close, into a hug, and I hold him tight. My body begins to shake from the memory and from the knowledge that everything that was done to me, he experienced, too.
"Are… are you okay, now?" he asks, not letting go.
I shake my head. "No. I don't go outside and, if you'll notice, the crowd is very thin in here. I don't handle larger groups of people well. Even for this I needed anti-anxiety medication."
He nods, his cheek resting on top of my head now.
People begin murmuring about us, staring, more flashes going off. Angelina comes over.
"The last of the pieces sold, Tera. You're free to leave, if you wish." Her expression is one of concern. All the pieces but this one. This one isn't for sale.
"Thank you, Angelina. You're a godsend. I wouldn't make it through these things without you," I respond honestly.
"You and your talent—you make it easy." She gives me a small smile and walks away.
I turn to Carter, who looks so lost. "C'mon. Let's go up."
He doesn't say anything, just follows along blindly as I lead him up the stairs to the apartment. I close and lock the door with the keypad and the reinforced chain, knowing no one is expected to come up.
"It's quiet up here," he murmurs, still holding my hand like a lifeline.
"Yeah. Linc's out of town until tomorrow."
"He still lives with you, then?"
I nod. "Want something to drink? Beer? Tea? Soda?"
"Tea, if it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all. With just a half-teaspoon of sugar, right?" I ask.
He nods. "Perfect."
"Make yourself comfortable," I urge.
Carter wanders the apartment aimlessly, stopping to look at the photographs—laughing at the one with us sticking our tongues out at one another and crossing our eyes. We were so silly back then. Silly and carefree. Right now, he looks like the weight of the world just fell on his shoulders—and I hate that it’s because of what happened to me.
