Like I’m fragile, or precious. “I won’t pretend to know what you saw, but I will tell you that she was incredible at finding ways and reasons to touch me, and for me to touch her in return.”
“Finding ways tomakeyou touch her?”
His shoulders bunch as his head falls, breaking our eye contact, but not our hold on one another. “Yeah. Like, she would have something on the back of her shirt shecouldn’t reach but it was really bothering her,or maybe her hair would fall in front of her eyes, but her hands were full and she’d need help tucking it behind her ears. Weird shit like that.” A vision of her hands holding her food order while he tucks her hair flashes through my mind.Oh.I still hate it, but the sting of the memory fades a little.
He darts his eyes to my face before looking quickly away. “So, anyway, I’m finally taking her home. She kept making excuses for herfriendand for staying so long. I think I was just burnt out by the time we reached her house.” His eyes are haunted when he stops talking. He’s looking at me, but not. I tense up, inadvertently squeezing his fingers. I know what’s next. He pulls his hand away from mine, and I try to ignore how much that move hurts when it shouldn’t.
“So, um, we got to her house, and she pretended her door wasstuck, and I—” He trails off and swallows. “I reached over her—just leaned over.” His voice is low, scratchy, and filled with so much pain. His body leans over, maybe in memory, maybe in some way to show me. “Maybe she, uh, decided to scoot over to my door to get out, so she moved to climb over me.” His hands mimic the act of pulling a body over his, and I want to close my eyes to all of this. That curdling in my stomach growing with every word, every movement. “I don’t know what happened. But she ended up on top of me again—straddling me.” He’s barely getting the words out, and he drops his head to his hand. The other sits on his leg, and I don’t fight the impulse to reach out and take it. His hand freezes in mine, before he grips me tightly, bordering on painfully. His voice is a whisper as he continues his story—histruth. “I just froze like that. Because, at first I really was confused on how the hell she managed that, you know?” I nod, even though he can’t see me right now. I’m able to see it in my mind. He stops talking then. His hand fists in his hair as he clenches his jaw hard enough that I hear his teeth grind.
From beneath his fingers, I watch as the line of his lashes grow damp and a tear breaks away to slide down and disappear into his beard. A low simmer starts growing in my chest at his obvious distress. His hand remains tight in mine, but his eyes stay firmly shut. “She put her hands on my shoulders, and her—her breasts were in my face. They were uncovered.” His brows furrow in concentration. “Then she started grinding on me, and I— ” his voice breaks, and my vision blurs as my eyes fill with my own furious tears, becausethis? This isnotwhat I was expecting.
He finally opens his eyes again, but he still doesn’t look at me. “I reacted, Becky,” he chokes out, “I got hard, and I know she could tell cause she leaned back andsmiledand then she—kissed me. I knew then, the moment her lips hit mine, that we were over.” He’s looking beyond me when he says this last part. He scoffs, then he finally meets my eyes again. “And Becky,” his voice breaks on my name. “Baby, I didn’twantany of it. I didn’t want her kiss or her hands or her body, Iswearto you. But—my body did, and Iletit get to that point.”
Oh no, Carter.
“Carter,” I gasp, ignoring the tears sliding down my face.
“Let me finish this.” He says quietly, and I stop and listen while my heart breaks for an entirely different reason than I expected tonight. I’ve never seen the look on Carter’s face that he wears now, and I hope I never have to see it again.Resignation. Disappointment. Disgust.
“Look, I’ve been with a couple of women before you, so I was no virgin, but you were my first girlfriend.Nobodyturned my head after you. Okay?” I nod my head, but I’m picturing that night. Them together. “Once you walked into the office, I’ve felt like my wholebeingbelongs to you. I didn’t want Taylor. She had been touching me casually for weeks, and it never didanythingto me. I recognize that I enjoyed her company, but I never felt anything for her beyond a passing affection for someone who needed my help.” He runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends while he talks. “So mybodyresponding so strongly to her touch—this betrayal, was so complete—I knew. I just knew then that Ilostyou. I crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.”
A sob shutters out of me before I can stop it, and he’s on his knees at my feet before my next breath.
“Becky. I swear. I swear to everything that I am, I stopped it as soon as my mind was right. I pushed her off me once her hands moved down to my belt. Before she got my pants undone. I fell out of the truck, walked around to her side and opened the door. She—she smiled at me, slid over to the edge of the seat, hopped out, winked, and went inside.”
I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
His head is down now, hands still clutching mine. “I don’t honestly know if I kissed her back. I wish, more than—well not more than anything, but I—I don’t know, and I couldn’t tell you that night, baby. I know I should have, but I couldn’t.” He lifts his dark eyes, and the despair I find makes the breath catch in my chest.
He actually thought…There’s a tremor in the hands that grip mine. His body is a storm of emotion, his jaw clenching, his breath shallow—but his eyes…they are the center of the storm. Overflowing with quiet resignation, misplaced guilt—it’s haunting. I can’t look away, muchless speak around the lump in my throat. “I was a coward and so ashamed—and then, when you didn’t come to bed, it’s like Iknewyou knew what I had done. I knew it was over, but I didn’t want to accept it.”
I was breaking apart in the other room.
“I had lied, I had cheated, I hadlostyou. The only woman I’ve ever loved, the only one I’ve ever really wanted—gone because I couldn’t control myself the way you needed me to.”
“Carter,” I croak out his name, but he keeps talking right over me, lost in his anguish.
“I wish I could go back and make so many different choices.”
“Carter,” louder, but not loud enough.I can’t take this.
“I made so many selfish mistakes.”
“No, stoppit! No, she assaulted you.” I can’t hear anymore of his self recriminations. He finally stops talking and looks at me from his spot kneeling at my feet. Heartache and pain etched over every feature of his beautiful face.
“Baby,” I say, nestling his bristly jaw in my hands. “She assaulted you. You said yourself that you didn’t want it. You don’t have to say stop, or even no. You didn’t ask for it. You didn’tconsent.” He holds my gaze, but his eyebrows draw together in confusion. I feel certain now. He was guilty for a lot this summer, but not this.
“She was—rubbing on you. Your body responds to friction, you know that.”
He shudders in response, trying to drop his head again.
“It’s biology, Carter.” I keep my hands on his face and raise his gaze to mine, wanting to be clear. “Biology. Not some reflection of your integrity.” I shake his head a little, “My God, Carter. She assaulted you that night.”
“She’s half my size, Becky.” He sounds defeated. He’s had a month to convince himself of his guilt, and that pisses me off because it is his fault, but notthispart. Not her touch. Not herassault.
“It doesn’t fuckingmatter, Carter! No. I can’t believe this.” Memories of our conversations about that night, his words and my responses fly through my mind.
“She crossed a line, I didn’t want to?—”
