Page 81 of Cabin Fever

He shut the door and came over, curling up beside me. His face was an inch from mine and it hurt to look at him. He was kind and helpful to the people he liked. It was only the people he didn't care for he was gruff with.

He had been grouchy with me up until the night we had sex. Did he like me or hate me? If he liked me, then the first two weeks were an act, maybe to keep me from learning more about him. But, if the last two weeks had been an act, then he never cared for me.

"Why are you crying? I can't take this. Tell me." His thumb kept wiping away my tears, but new ones would form before he could keep up.

"Why did you let me help you on the farm? When you first broke your arm, you let me help. Why?"

I had to know.

"Because I, uh . . ." He shook his head, and I knew the words were too shocking, even for him. "I didn't really have anyone I could call to help. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but you happened to be in the right place at the right time. You were strong enough, and I figured I could show you what was important."

It made sense. A bit cold and technical, but I understood.

"Did you think I was any good?" I bit my quivering lip and finally looked him in his emerald eyes. "Was there something about me that made you want to . . .? No that's not right. If we could rewind to that day when you fell, and you knew Emily . . . Would you choose her or me?"

"Do I have to answer that? For some reason, I feel like it's a trick question." Carter pursed his lips.

"Please. It would help me understand the crazy day I've had. There's something wrong and I need to figure it out."

"And an imaginary scenario where it's weeks ago and I choose between you and Emily to help me out on the farm, would help you? That seems odd. But I guess I can decide."

It did sound ludicrous, but my raw nerves needed the secure comfort that he would choose me.

"I think, based on both of your backgrounds, I would have chosen Emily. She did grow up on a farm and has been around farm animals all her life."

He was right. It was a logical decision, but I didn't want logical. My heart bled for a sign that he cared. That he wanted me.

"That makes sense," I said slowly, followed by a hiccup.

Helping around the farm and in the cabin, I thought I was good at it. But I had only looked at it from my perspective. I looked at it as someone who didn't even know where to go to find eggs, let alone cook them, before I came here. I believed my skills were better than good. They were magnificent.

But Carter grew up here. Spent almost every day of his life on this farm. I was terrible at taking care of the sheep compared to him.

Maybe I wasn't crying because I thought he wanted Emily over me to help him, but because I wasn't as good at working at anything as I thought. I wasn't even good at being a girlfriend.

He slipped his finger under my chin, tilting it until I was staring into his eyes. Carter's eyes flickered across my face. I was sure I looked a mess and wanted nothing more than to bury my face back into the bed.

"I would choose you for everything else, Olivia."

I made a noise that I thought sounded like agreement but based on his reaction, I don't think it did. He scooted farther into the bed and pulled me under his arm.

He sighed and for a long moment, he said nothing. I lay in his arms and it felt good.

"I'm going to tell you something I have never told anyone." Carter's voice a whisper.

"Okay." I cringed that it was all I could come up with to say.

"My mother and baby sister were murdered by a deranged gunman."

I tried to hold back my gasp, but he heard. His arm tightened around me, and I did the same to him.

"My father was Senator Lorne Fitzwilliam. He was thinking of running for president and was at a rally. He brought us on stage . . . it's what politicians do. Show off the wife and kids to the crowd so they come across as a great family man. But my father was good. Maybe I'm a bit biased, but I had met the other politicians he knew, even the president, and only a few came across as good people."

I nodded because I had met the politicians that my father associated with and a few had an air of slime about them. Even former President Higgins had shown up to a few of my mother's parties. There was something about that man. I couldn't put my finger on it because he smiled, shook hands, and appeared interested in what people had to say. But still, I got the sense it was all an act.

A lot of the politicians assessed you instantly to see if you could be useful to them. If you weren't, they barely acknowledged your existence.

"There was a man, close to the stage, that started screaming. He was angry and was cursing. Me, who looked up to my dad as a great man, got angry. I stepped forward and told him to stop using bad language. My mother raced forward with my baby sister in her arms. I think she was coming to grab me, to pull me back, but it was too late. A few shots rang out. I can't even remember how many. The police reported that he only shot twice, but it sounded like four or five times."

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