Page 122 of Love to Hate You

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Carter

I sit on the grassy bank, staring across the lake. There’s not much of a breeze tonight, so the water is calm and serene, which is a direct contrast to everything that riots inside me. It’s been more than an hour since I hauled ass from that party and still panic crashes through my veins making it difficult to breathe. I toss the mangled blade of grass I’ve been twisting in my fingers.

If I’d thought a little time and distance would make me feel better about what happened—what almost happened—it doesn’t. The pit that has taken up residence in the bottom of my gut continues to churn.

I snap off another blade of grass as the situation plays in my head on a constant loop. I’m furious with myself for allowing this to happen. The knowledge that I almost hit someone is enough to knock the breath from my lungs. I was moments away from plowing my fist into that asshole’s face. If Daisy hadn’t caught my attention, I would have done it without thinking twice.

The way he grabbed her, yanked her head back…

I just…lost it.

My temper went from zero to sixty in less than two seconds flat. That never happens. Because I don’t allow it to. Outside of football, I’ve never hit anyone.

A cold sweat pops out across my brow as I drag a hand over my face.

I refuse to be anything like my father. I refuse to allow my emotions to get the better of me.

To have that much rage pumping through my system...

That’s not who I am.

Everything in my life is controlled. My feelings are always contained. But that’s not the case right now. Daisy makes me feel things I’ve never experienced before. I’m neither controlled nor contained with her.

The faint strains of an engine grow louder. The park closed at nine o’clock and it’s after ten. The last thing I need is another run-in with one of the rangers. I focus on the moonlight reflecting off the glassy surface of the lake and hope that whoever it is will drive on by, leaving me in peace.

When someone settles next to me, I inhale a breath before forcing it out again. Without glancing in her direction, I know it’s Daisy.

The fact that she knew where to find me…

Emotion blooms in my chest and I quickly snuff it out.

Everything in me goes on high alert waiting for her to bombard me with questions. But she doesn’t. Instead, she sits quietly beside me. One by one, my muscles loosen. Crickets chirp a symphony around us, and still Daisy doesn’t say a word. From the corner of my eye, I watch as she draws her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them.

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Carter,” she whispers.

I tear off another blade of grass and shrug.

She’s wrong about that. It was entirely my fault. Unlike my father, I take responsibility for my actions. I don’t twist things around and point fingers the way he does. With Philip Prescott, the blame always lies with someone else for pushing him into reacting.

I am not that guy. I will never be that guy.

“I lost control,” I admit. “Whether you want to believe it or not, what happened is my fault.”

Daisy shakes her head, ready to argue the point. “But that guy—”

“No!” I cut in and thump my chest with my fist. “Losing my temper is on me. Not him.”

Doesn’t she understand that?

If I excuse myself for losing control and getting physical, then I have to excuse my father for all the times he’s done the same damn thing. I refuse to do that.

“There were other ways to handle the situation and I chose not to.” I’m embarrassed to say that they weren’t even a consideration. “Tonight, I was my father’s son.” Disgust burns a hole through my gut.

Daisy pales under the moonlight.

Good. She should be disgusted by what lives deep inside me. I’ve always assumed that I could control my reactions. To realize that I can’t is a bitter pill to swallow.

---