14. Carter

FOURTEEN

My dishonorable behaviorhad driven Dad crazy by the time we had landed. He escorted me to the house, forbade me from leaving, told Mom he had arrangements he'd previously forgotten to mention — as if! — and disappeared for three days straight.

I was certain that Mom knew what Dad's arrangements meant. There was no doubt in me left. He had all but admitted to whoring around when he was playing, and the way he had raged in the plane at the mention of his cocaine benders confirmed my suspicions. He wasn't an addict as much as he was a party-going asshole. He wasn't an employer as much as he was paying people so he could bully them. And he wasn't a husband and father so much as he was a jailor standing outside our gilded cage.

Mom had taken it with her head held high, but the moment the car glided away, she visited me. Patting my head, she asked, "Couldn't you talk to him? He needs time to process things, and talking helps."

I shook my head at that. "He's a man-child, Mom. I'm not gonna negotiate with him." And what would I have bargained for? In his absence, I immediately found my piano and poured all my feelings into my music. That was good enough, even if I couldn't make the music into a career with him watching over me.

And Nate had sent me away. He had sworn to me that his priority was his good name. He had sworn on the funniest gift I had ever gotten and one I had cherished more than the blades Dad had given me. Dad's gifts had always come with a price attached. Nate's had simply been to allow me to be a child while I could have been one.

Clearly, it meant more to me than it had meant to him. I had attached meanings to the gift beyond reality. And I had fallen in love with a man who wasn't at all the knight in shining armor.

On the third day, Mom found me in bed. My drills with a private coach hadn't been arranged, and Dad was still missing. Mom's attempts to talk to me often resulted in one-sided conversations where I listened to her tactics for getting what she wanted from her husband. She loved him, she admitted, even though she knew how hard a man he could be. "He values his family," she said once, sitting on the edge of my bed, her hand holding mine. The sadness in her eyes didn't match her words, and she knew it. She smoothed her expression after a moment. She was a calm, steady woman with the kind of outward pride that said she would never put up with Dana Prince's bullshit, yet she still did it.

They had both come from money. They had both been part of the elite machinery that brought their children up to hide their feelings, to hide the truth, and to pretend like their lives were ever so perfect. To leave my father was unimaginable to her, as much as it was impossible from his point of view.

"I know it hurt, baby," she whispered to me then. In the three days of asking and talking, she had gotten enough of the story out of me to know what had happened. "But it will pass if you give it time."

Why was she tugging on the stitches, then? Besides, what other answer could I have expected from someone who had been trained to act like nothing at all was wrong in her life? I loved my mother, I did, but she wasn't the authority on these things. Nobody seemed to know how anything in life worked, including me.

It was possible that I hadn't completely left my childhood behind until all of this had happened. I hadn't become an adult at eighteen. I hadn't grown up the night I'd lost my virginity. And shaving the few dark hairs above my lip once a week hadn't made me a man. What killed the child in my soul was the realization that adults didn't have their shit together. The people I had looked up to my entire life were all screw-ups in their own right. Adulthood was a lie told to children to make them behave in not necessarily a better but a more tolerable way.

That evening, I played my piano in the room I had long ago turned into a music room. The sprawling house had way too many empty rooms and never enough warmth, so I had carefully chosen my bedroom and my hobby room. This one was warm, its floor was dark hardwood, and the thick, antique carpet was from Dad's storage. The piano was a small one, nothing like the concert thing at Nate's place, and it was pushed against the brown-painted wall with an adjustable desk lamp on top of it to shine its light on my sheet music. I hadn't used any sheet music in years. Often, I could just crack the code by listening to music intently for a day or two.

I played some tunes from my heart. None were familiar to me from before. And if I had gone over them at some point in my life, I had forgotten all about them. Now, I played the requiem-like melody that fit my dark mood to perfection. And it was appropriate because the person who opened my door around eight in the evening was the death-bringer himself.

"Haven't I told you to quit this nonsense?" Dad growled.

I stopped playing, but my hands remained on the keys. "You'll have to cut off my fingers."

He scoffed. "You still insist on looking at me like I'm the bad guy."

I would have laughed if there was any laughter left in me.

The silence drove Dad mad more than my music. "I don't need to cut anything off. I just need to lock this goddamn room."

I looked at Dad over my shoulder. He was rumpled like he hadn't slept last night. He had partied, of course. "Don't you realize that I can hear music in my head? In my dreams? I can tap it out on my desk. I can write it in my mind."

Dad's jaw stiffened before he forced it to relax enough so he could speak. "You're starting drills tomorrow, Carter. You'll be too busy to think, let alone tap shit."

I wasn't sure what I was about to say. I knew for a fact I wasn't going to fuss about it and give him the pleasure of exercising his power over me. Before I could even breathe in, Mom appeared in the doorway. "Dana?"

"Not now, honey," Dad said sourly, the last word clashing with his tone, almost like he was mocking her, but he was oblivious to that.

"You should come," Mom said.

"What is it?" With impatience, he turned from me to Mom. A look passed between them. I didn't know what it was, but Dad believed it was important enough to put lecturing me on hold. And since lecturing me was becoming his favorite activity, I also considered the disruption significant.

As Dad followed Mom, I hesitated, but half a minute later, when hushed voices reached me, I hurried outside the room.

As soon as I crossed five paces and was in the gallery overlooking the entrance hall of the house, I felt a jolt of anger that Mom had fetched Dad instead of coming for me. The man standing in our lobby was wet from the pouring November rain, but it only helped to make him look better.

Nate Partridge wore a dark gray wool coat, water dripping from it all over the fine tiles in our entrance hall. His gaze was intently on my dad while Mom had her hand on Dad's shoulder.

I stopped walking abruptly, watching in disbelief. My first thought was that they had some unresolved business in order to make that horrible agreement binding, but that was not what was happening. I knew it in my heart before I knew it for a fact. Nate wasn't here to dance to my dad's tune. And if I hadn't hit my head and dreamed this up, then he was here for me.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he lifted his piercing gaze to me, the house growing dark around us. Thunder rolled distantly across the sky while Dad's voice increased in volume. "…out of my house. You have no right…" He stumbled over his angry words, and I noticed in the periphery of my vision that he had followed Nate's gaze and was looking at me. "Go back to your room, Carter."

Nate watched me expectantly as if he didn't know what I would do next. As if he expected me to turn away and leave, to confirm his fear that he had lost me. But he was here. He was here, and he was waiting for me to do something.

And even if I was absolutely wrong about everything, I was willing to take one more risk for this crazy thing. Could my life get any worse if I disobeyed Dad?

"No," I said softly without looking at Dad.

Nate swallowed, and I made a few slow steps toward the staircase. His gaze followed me even as Dad took a sudden step toward him as if to physically remove him from the house. He watched me descend slightly curving stairs, my left hand dragging over the smooth wall where a normal family might have their framed photos hanging, but ours only had a coat of faded yellow paint.

And when I reached the bottom of the stairs, Nate had shifted away from my furious father to face me. "Hi," he said or mouthed. I wasn't sure. His voice was so present inside my head that I could hear him even if he didn't make a sound.

"Hi," I replied.

"Back to your room, Carter. Now. I swear to God, if I have to tell you one more time, you'll regret it, young man." Dad's failed attempt made me chuckle.

"You can't tell me what to do," I said without taking my eyes off Nate. He was so beautiful. The lines around his mouth were gentle, and the hints of crow's feet around his eyes spoke of a man who had earned these lines by smiling. His forehead wasn't creased with worry when his face wasn't relaxed. His clear face and big, brown eyes radiated warmth that no rain and cold could ever extinguish.

"I'll tell everyone," Dad yelled. "I'll tell everyone what he did to you."

Nate didn't wince at that. Not even a little. His lower lip quivered, his eyes twinkled, and raindrops trickled from his soaked hair over his face. It didn't worry him that he might get crucified by the tabloids.

Dad tore free of my mom's hold and pulled the door open, grabbing Nate by the elbow. Nate, for his part, didn't resist. If anything, I might have seen a hint of amusement on his lips as Dad dragged him toward the exit.

Nate never broke eye contact with me, and his mouth spread into a smile when I bit my lower lip, holding back a smile of my own. But Dad slammed the door in his face, and I hurried across the hall to join my love outside.

Dad pressed his back against the door, making my heart leap. He wouldn't stop me now. He wouldn't. "You're not going anywhere," he growled.

"I really am," I said, my tone so light and casual that it must have offended him.

"Over my dead body, boy," he said, slurring the words in anger.

"Let me out," I demanded. My tone left no room for debate. "I need to talk to him. Let me out."

"You need to respect your father. You need to do what you are told, or you'll lose…"

"Enough!" Mom's voice was far louder than either of us had expected. "Dana, enough. Let him out."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed.

I was too stunned to speak as Mom stepped forward, putting her arm protectively around my shoulders. To my dad, she said, "I've put up with you for twenty years. I let you do whatever the hell you want to do. I looked away from every girl you slept with. I said nothing when you couldn't even bother to hide it. I washed their perfumes out of your shirts. And I pretended I didn't know what the powder you left in the closet under your folded pants was. But I'm not going to let you do this, Dana. I'm not going to stand silently while you ruin our boy's life." Her voice quivered for only a moment. She had an inexhaustible strength stashed somewhere deep within her. When she spoke again, her voice was as peaceful as dying in your sleep. "Let him go, or I will leave you. I swear to God, I will."

Dad gaped at her, then turned his furious gaze to me.

Mom kissed my cheek and whispered into my ear. "Go, baby."

I mouthed thank you before taking a step toward the door.

"I could have protected you," Dad said in a harsh whisper, stepping away from the door but standing in my path. "If you walk out, Carter, you'll never be able to come back to me."

I looked into his eyes and discovered that all the love I'd once had for the man I thought I knew was gone. It had been misplaced. "What you did to us all makes this the easiest choice I ever had to make."

"You'll regret it," Dana warned me.

"And he can come to my house whenever he damn pleases, Dana," Mom squeezed through clenched teeth.

With another glance over my shoulder, I blinked at Mom, hoping she understood my gratitude. It was impossible to put it into words. And it was impossible to wait with this feeling rocking my chest. I reached for the door and stepped out into the pouring rain.

Nate was a few paces away from the door, cold rain pelting his head and shoulders, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyebrows knitted to protect his eyes from the trickling raindrops. "You got out," he said over the faraway rumble of thunder and the murmur of rain on the ground.

The light above the front door suddenly went out, and I laughed out loud. That was my father's consolation prize, turning the lights off as if Nate's heart wasn't a glowing beacon, a lighthouse in stormy waters guiding my way.

Even Nate's lips stretched into a little smile at that.

I took a couple of steps toward him, pausing before we were too close. The crack that had split my heart seemed to tear wider now that I faced him. The pain felt fresher, the disappointment more bitter. I looked at him and decided this couldn't be easy for either of us. Not if it was real. So I grabbed my feelings with all my strength, and I shoved them deep into the abyss where my soul had once been. I would find them later if I had any need for them.

"You hurt me," I said bluntly over the rain, glad that my face was already wet so he couldn't see the tears when they rolled down my cheeks.

Nate pulled his hands out of his pockets. He spread his arms bravely as if he was getting ready for a firing squad. "I did."

"Why?" I demanded, the embers in me fanned by my desire to hear the right answer, kindling and growing into flames. "Why did you do it?"

Nate stepped closer, but I didn't move. "Quite simply, because I'm a fool, Carter."

"I know that." You are my fool, Nate. You were always supposed to be my fool.

"I thought I was protecting you," he said loudly as the wind sent chills into my bones and a stronger wave of rain came down on us. "I thought that keeping you safe was more important. I thought…" He shook his head, aware that he was inexcusable. "I thought the choice was mine."

Good, I thought but pressed the lid on my feelings harder. They battered against it like furies from hell, wanting to get out at any cost, wanting to go to him. "And now?"

Nate took the last step toward me and looked into my eyes. The heartbroken expression on his face convinced me that he could tell the difference between rain and tears on my cheeks. "And now I want you to forgive me, Carter. I came to beg if that's what you want. I know…I know you don't have a reason to trust anything I say. I would swear on your roller skates and your guitar's rainbow strap and on every kiss you gave me that made me feel like life was worth living, but that won't erase what I did."

It will do something better, I thought eagerly. It will break the bonds I put around my love for you.

His arms moved toward me, but he didn't touch me. Not yet. I could see the effort with which he was holding back. "The truth is really simple, Carter. I love you. I love you so much that it scares me. And to think that loving you could cause harm to you is worse than death."

Had my heart not already felt whole for the fact that he knew the worth of my roller skates, these words would have healed me. But now, they only made my chest rise higher and my heart lift with it. "You love me?" I asked, my voice barely louder than the lashing storm.

"I do, baby. With all my heart. With every fiber of my being. I love you." He bit his lip hard, and I realized he was crying, too, concealing his sobs as if he were shivering with the cold. "I should have let you make the call. I should have let you choose whether you wanted to risk the torture of being exposed. And if you come with me, I will never play the adult. I promise, baby. God knows I barely keep my shit together. But you make me a better person. You know you do."

I realized I had been holding my breath since asking the question. Now, as happiness welled in me like a river that was about to break the dam, I grinned and shuddered with the effort not to shout. "I love you too." The words came out even if my voice was shaky with excitement. "I love you, Nate."

His eyes widened as though this was the least likely thing he would hear. But when his hands rose and closed around my face, his kiss was determined and steady. For all the storms that thundered through our lives, his more than mine, Nate Partridge was still the anchor that kept me safe and sound. He was the monolith I had fallen in love with and who somehow, miraculously, loved me back.

I rose onto the tips of my toes to kiss him back. All the love I had bottled down and trapped was now soaring out of me, warming up everything in its path. It rose wildly from my chest, traveled to my lips, and poured into him. He was mine in all the ways: my soul, my life, my love. He was here, taking me away, taking a chance on us.

I kissed him hot enough that our bodies no longer shivered in the cold, but Nate still pulled his head back and looked into his eyes. "Carter," he said excitedly. "You're making me so happy, Carter."

Chills ran through me despite the fact that this feeling heated my body.

"Shit," Nate blurted as if he only just realized we were outside in pouring rain. "Come inside the car. Hurry." And he grabbed my hand, leading me away. It never crossed his mind to ask if I wanted to return inside either to say something or take something with me. And it didn't occur to me that I might until we were inside his fancy, comfortable, heated car, shuddering and waiting to warm up a little.

Nate looked at me from the driver's seat. "I love you, baby," he said. "I…never said this to anyone before. I love you." It was like he was trying to get used to the feel of those words in his mouth. He said it three more times before I laughed.

"I love you, too," I promised.

After a moment of silence in which we let our gazes feast on each other's faces, Nate pressed the gas pedal and drove. Shaking his head clear, he said we needed to go to the nearest mall, or we would freeze to death.

I beamed as I listened to his words.

"It's not important," he said. "We'll buy clothes. We'll change into something dry. We'll be fine. You're with me, Carter. You're really with me."

I put a hand on his thigh, grinning despite myself. "Should I be driving, baby? You seem a little…"

Nate laughed out loud. "Happy? Because I am. I don't remember when I was this happy."

My heart fluttered, and I realized I hadn't felt this way in ages. If ever. I had been terrified the first time I had kissed him. I was thrilled when I kissed him again. He had made me feel all the best things with his words and his gestures, with his lips and with his fingers, but I had never felt as happy as this.

We did what Nate said we should. Shivering and leaving wet footsteps on the floor while apologizing to everyone in our path, we hurried into the nearest store and shopped for clothes while the storm raged outside. We ate junk food like two teenagers who were just released from their parents' leash. We tried each other's milkshakes like boys on their first date ever. And when we returned to the car, Nate drove into the night.

He told me how Beckett had made him realize what a fool he had been. And he told me that nothing he had done in his life felt as right and as important as what he had done tonight.

Driving on the highway and through the waning rain, he glanced at me. "This is what I have been looking for all my life." He looked at the road, then glanced at me again. "You, Carter."

And I knew he was telling the truth. I felt very much the same way. Being next to him was the most important thing to me. We were headed somewhere, though I didn't even ask where. One of his homes, maybe even back in Detroit, driving across the country through the night or elsewhere in some roadside motel. It hardly mattered where we would stop along the way or where we would end up so long as we were together on the journey.