Page 10 of Wants and Needs
“Adam Darnell?” I ask, standing as I put my earbuds back in their case. “Isn’t he a football player?” Carter didn’t look like an athlete. I mean... I guess he could be, but definitely not a football player.
“Yes, the quarterback of?—”
“I know who Adam Darnell is.” I interrupt Larson. “But you didn’t scream like that when Wolf told us he’s in love with Darnell’s best friend— wait, is Carter the man Wolf told us about last year?” I ask, directing the question at Mom that time. Wolf is part of the country-rock band The Storm, and he and his little brother, Hawk, have known our parents all their lives, as have I though I’ve never spent much time with them.
Last year, Wolf was living here in the city and he came over quite a few times. He gave Larson a few guitar lessons since he doesn’t want to learn from Dad—idiot—and even made an appearance on Dad’s new podcast.
I like Wolf well enough, but the few times I’ve talked to him I’ve had trouble understanding his intentions. He’s very gruff and hard to read for a normal person—at least that’s what Mom always says—so for me it’s three times as hard.
Is Carter involved with Wolf?
But Wolf doesn’t live in the city anymore. He said he’d moved back to LA to be with this man he loved so much, and Carter has a house here...
The big rush of relief that floods my chest is confusing as hell.
“No,” Mom answers me without looking away from the oven, where she’s admiring the roast she made today. “Wolf’s boyfriend is CJ—he’s Adam’s childhood best friend. Carter met him in college from what London tells us,” she calls out.
“Yeah, CJ’s the guy Carter bought the gift for,” London says, getting right to the thick of it. “But Carter told me he’s also friends with him from college,and,” she exclaims, sounding even more excited now. “He’s also a friend of Rupert Cardew.” She makes a weird noise and her eyes go glassy.
Ah, I think that means infatuation.
Not having interacted with a lot of teenage girls in my life, I’m learning most of their mannerisms as London grows, so I can never be too sure.
“Who’s that?” Logan asks, thankfully, because I also don’t know, and I’m not quite sure it’s appropriate to ask.
“He’s the heir to a lordship in the UK. I saw him all over the news while I was there. He’s so dreamy,” she says with a sigh and Larson suddenly gags. It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s faking, and I relax.
“So no one important,” Logan summarizes.
London ignores him and keeps looking at a random spot on the wall with her eyes clearly unfocused.
“All right, you two go put on some respectable clothes,” Mom tells Logan and Larson, waving a kitchen cloth at them. “And you finish setting the table, then go drag your father away from his office. And you get back to your drink so you’re calmer when Carter gets here.” That last bit is directed at me, and I follow her instructions as I shove in my earbuds again, though I am frowning.
I think I’ve been pretty calm. Why does she think I’m not?
My fingers stretch when I’m once again in my armchair, music in my ears and taking a sip from the tumbler.
Mom does know me better than anyone, sometimes even myself.
I’m onlya few steps behind Mom when she opens the door to a smiling Carter and I see he’s holding a big bouquet of lilies.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Carter.”
“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” she coos at him. “Please call me Sam. You didn’t have to bring anything,” she protests.
“Bringing flowers is the least I can do to thank you forinviting me over,” he says and extends his arm to offer them to her.
I can see Mom’s instantly charmed by him as she takes the flowers, and for some reason that makes me want to pout—I resist, though.
Then I hear thundering steps and London’s excited, “Carter,” before she’s pushing me slightly to the side and wrapping her arms around him. One of the things I struggle with the most is interpreting people’s—strangers’—facial expressions and emotions, but when Carter hugs my sister back, I see a calm kind of smile, and that has to be good, right?
I wish I didn’t feel the need to ask Mom if my conclusion is correct, but that’s a lifelong habit I haven’t been able to break.
“Hello there.” Now it’s Dad’s voice coming from behind me, and I turn just in time to see his eyes widen on Carter. I’m pretty sure that means Dad recognizes him. How? “You must be Carter,” Dad says and steps around me. “Were you at Harrison’s son’s wedding two years ago, or am I mistaking you for someone else?” he asks when London steps back, and then offers him a hand to shake.
“I was, sir.”
“Yeah,” Dad says softly and nods, then lets Carter’s hand go. “And you were pissed out of your mind by the time we left.” He looks back at Mom with his worried frown.
