Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
“I know,” I assure him.
“They either didn’t believe me, or didn’t want to. My father wanted to sweep it under the rug. He thought of it as something I had done wrong, something I had screwed up. He just wanted her to get an abortion and go away. My mom, though. She wouldn’t have it. According to her, it would be wrong and two wrongs didn’t make a right. My mom decided she would keep Chloe and raise her as my sister. Pay the babysitter off, make her sign an NDA.” He cracks a cynical smile. “She made me do shit I didn’t want to do, and she got paid for it twice. It was a nice fucking pay-off, let me tell you.”
“I’m so sorry, Carter,” I say, wrapping my arms around his bare torso and burying my face in his chest. This is so unexpected, I have no idea what to say to him.
“Anyway, that’s why we moved here. My father did have an affair, but that wasn’t the main reason, it was just the final straw. We moved here to start fresh, to leave behind all our skeletons. Sometimes they follow you though, even if you never see the person again. I don’t know if all this shit is why I am the way I am, but I do know how I was introduced to sex, and I still like it the same way, now I just like to be the aggressor.” He shrugs. “Maybe a coincidence, maybe not. I don’t know.”
My introduction to intimacy was a bit violent, too, and now I crave all the things he does to me. At this point, I have no better idea than him where these cravings originate, but I nod my head in understanding anyway. I don’t need for there to be a reason for the way Carter is anymore, but I can tell he’s trying to explain himself to me. He’s opening up and sharing with me the one thing he wouldn’t share before.
He’s letting me in, deep into depths maybe he doesn’t even entirely understand. Places maybe he hasn’t even fully explored. I squeeze him tighter, wanting to express my appreciation, but unsure how. Normally I would kiss him or do something physical, but that feels wrong in the wake of what he just revealed.
Judging by his tone, he’s ready to wrap it up, but he says, “Anyway, you wanted to know about Chloe’s mom. Now you know.”
Socked by a sudden memory of me asking him if he raped some girl and got her pregnant, I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I want to apologize for even asking that, but I also don’t want to bring it up again.
“Thank you for telling me,” I offer softly, meeting his gaze. “I’m so sorry that happened. I honestly… I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t need you to say anything.” He flashes me a half-hearted smile to let me know it’s okay. “You asked, I answered. That’s all.”
Cringing, I remember, “I asked you if you loved Chloe’s mom.”
“It was a reasonable question. You didn’t know. Anyway, I don’t like talking about it, so I’d rather if we didn’t. I just figured since you’re stuck with me, I should give you some of that openness you’re so fond of.”
It feels wrong to crack a smile, but I don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable than he already is, either. “I appreciate that, thank you. And if you ever do need to talk about it, you know I’m here.”
“I know,” he assures me, tightening his arm around me and leaning forward to kiss my forehead.
I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but I tip my head back so my lips meet his. His response is immediate; he pushes his fingers through my hair and cradles my head, closing his eyes and kissing me back. I want to offer comfort and support he swears he doesn’t need, but I have a feeling he will be more receptive to it coming physically than with discomfiting words. Usually there’s nothing tentative or uncomfortable about it when our bodies communicate, and while at first I wonder if this time will be an exception after what he just told me, he quickly disabuses me of that notion.
I go to his game Friday night, but I bring a spiral notebook from history class so I can study between plays. I also bring a hard copy of my book review, that way I can read through it again and make any necessary changes before I turn it in on Monday.
“Workin’ through the game. I see your team spirit’s in full swing.”
I look up at Jake, standing there towering over me with a little smirk on his face. I wouldn’t look so smug if I were him, but I don’t want to get into it with him again, either. “Can I help you with something?”