Page 31 of Where Happiness Begins
Jayson lifts his hands in front of him. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean no harm.”
Carter’s jaw clenches, the only sign that he’s about to burst. “Apologize to her. And next time, keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
Jayson stammers something unintelligible, and I’m too tired to try to play nice with him. Instead, I put a hand over Carter’s tense forearm. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
He stays put for a moment as if he has more to say, but when I pull on his shirt, he throws Jayson one last murderous look and follows me to his car.
We remain silent as we get in and pull out of the parking lot, both of us probably needing a second to cool down. I could nag him for probably getting me fired, but honestly, I’m thankful for him stepping up for me. He’s got more balls than I do, that’s for sure.
“Is this fucker always there when you work?” is the first thing Carter says to me after another five minutes of silent driving.
“No. Well, sometimes he’s there during my shifts, but he never stays until close time. Tonight was the first time.”
He makes a noncommittal sound.
“I don’t think he’d have ended up doing anything, but thanks for intervening anyway. I appreciate it.”
“You were uncomfortable. He should’ve seen that.”
That, we can agree on.
We finish the drive in silence, Carter yawning twice before we finally get home, fatigue written all over his face.
I unclasp my seat belt and turn to him, deciding this has gone on long enough. “I’m really thankful for tonight, but how long are you planning on doing this?
“Do what?” he asks before exiting the car.
I follow him out. “Coming to pick me up in the middle of the night.”
He doesn’t stop walking in front of me as he says, “When are you going to stop walking home in the middle of the night?”
“I usually go with my car.”
“Fine then. I’ll stop when your car’s back.”
Which won’t be for another two days. Apparently, keeping my dad’s 1995 Ford was not a sure way to have a reliable car.
“And when I know that creep’s not there with you,” he adds. I’m not about to tell him he’s my boss and he’s there most of the time. I think Jayson will probably have learned his lesson tonight.
“You don’t have to.” I don’t know if it’s coming from a place of guilt over rejecting me at first or a strange sense of duty, but it’s only making me feel bad about keeping him awake.
Carter stops in front of the door, head hung between his shoulders, defining the muscles in his back under his black T-shirt.
Stop ogling.
“Would you question it if it were Finn or Lexie doing it?”
Surprise must be evident on my face because when he turns around, he raises a brow. I never would’ve thought he’d remember their names.
“Maybe I wouldn’t,” I say. “But it’s not the same thing. They’re my friends.”
“So?” he says, not contradicting my statement.
I lift a tired shoulder.
“You’re still mad. That’s why you’re against it.”
“I’m not.”
