Atticus turned and watched as Slade stormed out of the room.
He took a deep breath.
There was only one thing that would solve this. Yeah, it involved talking because that was the only way he saw this getting resolved. However, Atticus didn’t have to be the one doing it.Theyhad to hash it out between them. Carson and Slade.Theyhad to figure out where this went from that point forward. And they needed to do it without Atticus’s input.
He knew exactly how to make that happen.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Carson was beginning to think Atticus hadstood him up. He’d offered to cook dinner for him and Slade tonight, but he’d been waiting to start until they arrived. He knew both men were home because their trucks were parked in front of the house, yet no signs of life came from across the street.
So here he was, wandering around his house, his phone in his hand. He’d only talked to Atticus briefly throughout the day, trading a few texts. Carson had kept it low-key, not sure he wanted to delve into what happened between the three of them that morning. There was no doubt Atticus would want to talk about it. He’d insinuated as much in one of his texts earlier.
What was there to talk about? Well, besides the apparent friction that still lingered between Carson and Slade. Yeah, this morning’s events had been incredible. And far more than what Carson had anticipated. But that didn’t mean things would be smooth between him and Slade going forward. After all, Carson had already made one attempt to talk to Slade about their past, but the man had shut him down completely.
Carson didn’t like where things stood between him and Slade. He wasn’t saying he didn’t deserve Slade’s wrath because he did. He could admit he’d failed Slade in a big way back when they were together. He’d taken the man for granted because he’d gotten so caught up in the activities. In the end, he’d lost him. At the time, it had been easier to pretend he didn’t care, but the truth was, he’d fallen in love with Slade.
He was still in love with the man. More than he wanted to admit.
But then Atticus came along, and Carson found himself ready and willing to dump all his baggage simply to be with the man. He couldn’t explain it, and God knows he’d attempted to rationalize it for the past month. He’d never had this sort of instant infatuation with anyone before. The kind that made him want to change paths and become whoever Atticus needed him to be. And if that meant shedding his voyeuristic skin and quitting cold turkey, so be it. As long as he could be with Atticus, he’d do it.
And now he was being teased with having everything he’d ever wanted? It was like one giant cosmic joke. Any second, he expected the rug to be yanked out from under him. That or he would wake up and find that none of it was real.
When pacing the floor became too much, Carson pulled up the text thread with Atticus and typed a message.
—Are y’all coming over?
After he sent the text, he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and carried it into the living room.
—No. Are you?
Carson laughed out loud at Atticus’s response.
—I kinda thought I’d cook here. That was what we agreed on, right?
—It was.
—Did you change your mind?
—No.
Carson was sincerely confused.
—So are you coming over or what?
Atticus didn’t respond immediately, so Carson went to the front window and stared over at Slade’s house, hoping to see Atticus and Slade walking out. No one did.
Then his phone buzzed.
—Change of plans.
Yep, he could feel the tug on the metaphorical rug. Someone was about to yank hard, and he would face plant into reality to find that none of this was real.
His phone buzzed again.
—I want you to come over here and talk to Slade.
Umm…What now?Why in the fuck would Atticus want him to do that? Talking to Slade was like having a chat with a brick wall. Nothing would come of it, no matter how much Carson groveled.
