Page 106 of Love to Hate You

Chapter Thirty-Two

Daisy

The drive back to campus is a quiet one. The air is heavy with unspoken words and emotion. I want to discuss what I just witnessed, but I’m still reeling and not sure how to broach the subject.

And Carter hasn’t said a word. His eyes are pinned to the road in front of him. Everything about his demeanor is closed off. My brain whirls trying to come up with something that will smooth over the situation, but I keep coming up empty.

Nothing I say will make this better.

From the corner of my eye, I glance at his hand resting on his thigh. Every so often, he flexes his fingers, digging them into his shorts. There is so much pent-up agitation in that movement. I want him to know that he isn’t alone, but there’s a yawning distance between us that feels insurmountable.

As I reach out and thread my fingers through his, Carter’s gaze cuts to mine. So much emotion is conveyed without either one of us speaking a word. He squeezes my fingers and some of the distance falls away. Our eyes lock, and I’m slammed with a realization that knocks the breath from my lungs.

All the times I’ve seen Carter sporting a black eye, a bruise on his cheek, or a split lip come crashing back to me. He wasn’t involved in some underground fight club or messing around with another guy’s girlfriend.

His own father laid hands on him.

I blink away the wetness that has gathered in my eyes as my mind flips through all the times I’d looked at him, saw the damage, and shook my head in disgust thinking he was nothing more than a hotheaded jerk.

How could I have been so blind?

This is the reason that Carter is so guarded with his privacy.

This is why he keeps everyone at a distance.

Carter has one of the most recognizable faces at BU. College football has thrust him into the limelight. He’s going places, places that most of us can’t dream of, and everyone wants a piece of him.

They want to know Carter Prescott the football player, the guy destined for the NFL, but they don’t. They only see what Carter allows them to. A handsome athlete with prowess both on and off the field. A guy who will graduate at the top of his class and comes from a wealthy, privileged family. He doesn’t allow them to glimpse behind the carefully crafted façade.

I’ve known Carter for years, and I was still oblivious. I fell into the same trap as everyone else. It’s a disturbing thought that pricks at my conscience. Not once did I ever attempt to scratch beneath the surface. I was content to believe the paper-thin version he presented me with and I promptly dismissed him as not being worthy of my time or energy.

Carter squeezes my fingers and draws me back to the present.

“Hey, are you all right?” he asks.

The sound of his voice is like a gunshot in the silence. Laughter bubbles up in my throat and aches for release. The question seems absurd. I’m the one who should be asking if he’s okay. Not the other way around.

“I’m fine.” Our gazes lock. There is so much emotion swirling in his gray eyes. So much more than what I’m used to seeing from him. “What about you?”

He sucks in a breath and slowly expels it from his lungs. His chest rises and falls with the movement. “I’m okay.” He shifts on the seat and his voice dips. “I’m just sorry you had to see that.”

A dull redness creeps over his cheeks and my heart constricts. It kills me that Carter is embarrassed about this. He falls silent and I can tell by the way he clenches his jaw that he’s getting lost in his thoughts. I squeeze his fingers to pull him back to me. I don’t want him going there.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” When he remains silent, I say, “None of this is your fault. Your dad is a jerk. He’s the one who should be embarrassed.”

“He’s not,” he says flatly. “Hopefully now that the police have intervened, he’ll take the restraining order seriously.” He glances in my direction. “My mom filed for divorce and he’s not happy about it.”

I nod, having gathered as much from the conversation that ensued after the authorities arrived. It boggles my mind that this is Carter’s reality. An avalanche of guilt nearly buries me alive. I’m no better than the BU masses. I only saw what he wanted me to. I never bothered to dig deeper or question the little things that weren’t adding up.

I clear my throat and croak, “I’m sorry.”

He frowns. “For what?”

I shake my head, unsure if my feelings can be adequately translated into words. Only now am I realizing how strong Carter is. To deal with a situation like this, you would have to be.

“For not seeing the man you truly are,” I whisper.

He remains silent for so long that I wonder if he heard me.

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