Page 19 of Fall For You

SIX

Carter

Just about thelast thing I ever expected to find myself doing at this point in my life is smuggling Jo out of my apartment, first thing in the morning, via the side door. It’s like we’re kids again. Except we’re not. And I kind of hate it.

It’s a little over a week since we agreed to try sneaking around. And, I’m not gonna lie, it’s been hot as fuck. We’ve made love every day, everywhere we could think of—in the restaurant, late at night, after everyone had gone home. In the hall powder room at Vi’s house—with me hunched over, just a little, because the ceiling is so low, and Jo perched on the vanity. In the back of my truck. In the dug out of the municipal baseball field. In a rowboat on the banks of the river. Over the arm of my couch. Pressed up against the wall. And, of course, in my bed.

Last night was the first time she spent the entire night with me. Which, in retrospect, was probably a terrible idea. It definitely sent my heart and brain the wrong message—that this was not just a momentary bit of fun. That this was very, very real and possibly forever.

Bad idea or not, it felt so incredibly good—right up until the moment when I suddenly remembered that I had my monthly breakfast meeting with my brothers scheduled for today.

“It’s just because it’s my brothers,” I tell her again, kissing her one last time, as we cuddle in the stairwell. “You know that, right? I mean, if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t…” My voice trails off.

I wouldn’t what? I wouldn’t mind that eventually (by which I mean almost immediately) the story would be spread all over Heartwood that we were back together—the very thing I’ve been trying so hard to avoid?

Because yeah, I would mind. I’d hate that too. If only because I know what that’s like; with everyone choosing sides, getting mad at her or pitying me. Neither of us deserve to go through that again.

“Carter, I know,” Jo assures me. “You told me. I get it.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to,” I say, because I’m pretty sure that what she ‘gets’ is that I’m choosing my family over her, over us—which is exactly what she thought had happened last time.

It wasn’t true then and it certainly isn’t true now, especially since—this time around—there isn’t even an ‘us’ worth talking about. But however I look at it, it still feels wrong.

“We’ll figure it out,” she says as she eases the door open and peeks outside. She glances both ways then says, “Okay. It looks like the coast is clear. I’ll see you later.”

She flutters her fingers in a little wave and then slips away. I stare at the door as it closes behind her.I miss her already, I think to myself. Hard on the heels of that thought, comes another:I am so, so screwed.Because if I feel like this now, how the hell will I feel when I watch her drive out of town?

My brothers showup just a few minutes later, so close in time to Jo’s departure that I can’t be sure they didn’t see her go. I eye them suspiciously—which does not go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong?” Campbell asks, studying my expression in much the same way as he might study a field of corn, a cloudy sky, a pregnant ewe before determining when to schedule the combine, whether or not it will rain, or whether she’s carrying one lamb, or two. He sees too much, sometimes.

I turn away before answering, “Nothing. Why don’t y’all take a seat. I assume neither of you need menus?”

Camp shakes his head. “Nope. I know what I want.”

“Same,” Cash agrees. He’s followed directions and seated himself, but there’s a hint of something in his tone that grates on my nerves when he asks, “So? What’s new with you?”

“Why are you asking me that?” I snap, causing both of my brothers to stare at me in surprise.

“Oohkay, then,” Cash murmurs as he shakes out his napkin. “Guess I know what that means.”

Camp glances at us both then asks, “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

“Probably,” Cash tells him at the same time I answer, “No.”

“I…see,” Camp says, eyes narrowing once again.

“I’ll get us some coffee,” I say, but even as I turn to make good on my threat, one of my far-too-efficient servers appears, bearing a fresh pot, along with a basket of hot-out-of-the-oven cornbread and biscuits. After we order—Huevos Rancheros with extra beans and a side of fried potatoes for Campbell. Buttermilk pancakes with Southern Fried Apples and candied bacon for Cash. And for me…after a short, internal debate, I go with shrimp and grits.

I’m the only one of us whose order ever varies. It drives me crazy that both of my brothers will get the same thing every damn time. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy they like what I makeenough to eat it again and again. But there’s so much that they’re missing, so many other things they might like as well.

“So, what’s going on, Carter?” Camp asks, once he’s fixed his coffee to his liking. “And don’t say nothing. Because it’s obvious that something is up. Does this have anything to do with your big dinner? How’s that going, by the way?”

Cash and I exchange a look. I’m surprised he hasn’t ratted me out yet, and I can only imagine how he’ll choose to explain the situation with Jo if I give him the chance, so I don’t. “Jo’s back in town,” I tell my brother. “She’s been working for a big event planner in LA for the past few years and she’s agreed to help us out with the dinner.”

“Is that a good idea?” Campbell asks.

Cash shakes his head. “Doesn’t look like it, does it?” he says. But I ignore him.

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