Page 8 of Wants and Needs
I hate it.
I hate everything in this moment because my little sister, the most precious person on this planet, has to be strong so I won’t lose my shit.
I grind my teeth together and breathe deeply as I keep staring down at her, trying to find it in me to be calm and supporther. That’s what I have to do.
I look back up at Carter and he must see some of the rage, because he takes a tiny step back while his eyes narrow.
I open my mouth to thank him before I ask for more explanations from London, but a ringtone blares right then, and Carter’s eyes release mine as he fishes his phone from his pocket. He answers the call and quickly murmurs at us.
“I’ll get the bags. You tell your brother what happened.”
I have mixed feelings about the stern look he aims at my sister before he puts the phone to his ear, then he turns on his heel and walks away.
On the one hand, he needs to back off and never tell London what to do, but on the other, I really want her to tell me what happened, so I focus back on her instead of Carter’s wide back.
“Speak,” I command, and the epic eye roll tells me she’s at least feeling like herself, which helps me breathe a little bit easier.
She doesn’t protest and instead goes through her morning in London—the city—step by step, knowing it’s what my brain needs.
I actively want to wring someone’s neck—a new experience for me—when she tells me the “old pervert” touched her knee, but then she tells me how Carter intervened, and I manage to unclench my teeth and my jaw.
“Where is this man?” I demand, looking at the baggage claim area where Carter is, with two suitcases already on a cart next to him.
“Carter made sure he didn’t get a chance to talk to me again. We can trust him,” London hurries to add, and how she can possibly know that, I have no idea, but I keep my mouth shut. “Italked to Mom right when we landed,” she continues. “I told her all of it and she told me we have to bring Carter over for dinner to thank him. But first we need to make a quick pit stop because he’s gotta buy a present for a friend?—”
“Wha—what?” I sputter out the question. “We’re supposed to drive him around so he can goshopping?” I shake my head before she can answer because that’s not even the most ridiculous part of what she just said. “We’re supposed to invite a stranger to dinner? What, as a bribe not to sell this story to the press?”
My brain isnoton board with this, and I’m already shaking my head. God, what the hell is Mom thinking?
“I don’t need to be bribed by you.” Carter’s suddenly right there with a cart full of suitcases, and the edges of his jaw are bunching so he must be clenching his jaw too. Is that because of anger? “And I wasn’t thinking a home cooked meal would be a bribe,” he keeps talking in a monotone voice that... doessomethingto my brain.
I can’t explain it, but he has my full attention instantly.
And that’s worrying.
Especially because he might not sound super angry, but I’m pretty sure he is.
“Iwasthinking of accepting,” he continues. “Even if none of you owe me anything. But if your rude arse will be there, then I think I’ll pass.”
He finishes by tilting his chin up just slightly.
It makes no difference, we’re practically the same height, or maybe I’m an inch taller, so it’s not like he’s going to be able to look down on me or anything. Dad explained it to me once,how people use height to assert their dominance. I don’t get that, but I have seen a lot of men try to do it. It never really works.
“No, please come,” London cries and... shelets go of my handsand grabs onto Carter’s arm. “Don’t worry about Liam. He’s just grouchy because he’s been working too much, and life’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s nice. I promise.”
Carter’s face transforms into a tender expression when he looks down at London.
“Older brothers are always nicer to their sisters than to the rest of the world.” His words are soft, and once more something happens inside me at the sound of his deep baritone. Could be his cadence? His accent? He speaks like he doesn’t have anything to hurry over. It’s... calming.
I think.
I’m not sure.
There’s nothing calm about him, though, when his eyes turn to me and he raises one imperious eyebrow.
“Especiallyreally olderbrothers.”
It takes me a moment to remember what he’s talking about, but when I do it’s not like I can say anything back, can I? I do want to, though.
