Page 35 of Fall to Me
Carter gently pulls my hair tie out of my hair, unhooking a tangle before combing his fingers through the mess. “I bet that was scary,” he says, pausing in thought. “I have another question. It’s a pretty serious one though.”
“What is it?”
His brows pull together into a frown. “Did you see any flying cows?”
“Ass.” I laugh, grabbing the decorative pillow beside my legs, and swatting him with it.
“What? It’s a valid question.”
I roll my eyes and giggle. There he goes again; redirecting, making me feel safe in my feelings, and at the same time, lightening up a situation that made me uncomfortable.
We don’t turn the movie back on. Instead, we talk the entire night while Carter continues to run his fingers through my hair. I begin to relax, and soon I feel myself drifting off, using him as a pillow.
He’s driving me absolutely insane. And not in the sense that he used to when he was overly flirty with witty comebacks and chasing me all over the damn place. No, it’s so much worse than that.
Every day for the past forty-three days—yes, I’m counting—Carter’s done something either incredibly sweet or something insanely sexy to turn me on. Like, a couple of weeks ago, when he walked through our penthouse in nothing but a towel. His sandy blond hair was still wet from the shower, and rivulets ofwater dripped down his tattooed body. At first, I thought, you know . . . he’s used to being single and living on his own. But when that bastard looked back over his shoulder and caught me checking him out, he smirked, and I knew right then he did it intentionally.
This morning, when I came downstairs before work, Carter was standing in the kitchen. Shirtless. Not only was he shirtless, but his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips while he stood there making a cup of coffee. He lifted the cup to his mouth, his perfectly tattooed biceps bulging, and tasted it. Then, as if that wasn’t enough to make me combust, when he turned to face me, I could tell he wasn’t wearing underwear.
Okay, so I knew he was packing, but I didn't realize tothatextent. Good God.
“Perfect.” He winked.
Honestly, I don’t think he was even talking about the coffee. I’m certain it was the fact that, once again, he busted me salivating over my husband. He put a lid on the cup, placed it in my hands, and told me to have a good day at work. Then . . .then. . . he kissed me on the forehead, like he’s done every single day. To say I was frazzled was an understatement. I’ve been dealing with this shit for six freaking weeks, and I’m going out of my mind. Oh. Oh. And that doesn’t even include the texts he sends to me throughout the day.
At first, I thought it was a one off. He told me to have a good day, no big deal. But then I received another in the middle of the day, telling me that he was thinking about me.
Now, here I sit at my desk, not able to concentrate on a damn thing, because all I can seem to think about ishim. I don’t know what kind of shenanigans he’s trying to pull, but I pretty much begged him to fuck me, and he turned me down . . .
Well, I’ve had it. Two can play that game, and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him pay . . . after I handle my sisterwho is standing at my office door with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised nearly to her hairline.
“Been where you’re at. Your mind looks busy, but from the work piling up on your desk, it looks like that’s the only thing working today. Come on. Let’s go to lunch, and you can tell me about it.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I grab my purse and follow Aspen out the door. The guys have home games this week. Players fill up the facility with morning skate and workouts, so I know Carter is around here somewhere. The last thing I need right now is to run into him when my head is discombobulated. Our heels click in unison and echo as we walk through the reception area to make our way outside.
“So whatcha in the mood for?” Aspen asks.
God, I can’t even think about food. My stomach is all tied up in knots. I know where this conversation is gonna go eventually—to how it’s going with Carter—and I’m dreading the fact that I’ll be forced to lie to her face again, like I've been doing the past month and a half.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I blurt as we slide into her car.
Aspen whips her head toward me, eyes wide. I tell her everything. From the time we all split up on Fremont Street, all the way to now, and why I chose not to annul the marriage. I leave Teagan out of it because, well, that woman has had all our backs from the moment we moved from Oklahoma. I know she had Aspen’s best interest at heart, and I don’t want Aspen mad at her.
She’s silent for a beat before she reaches over and pulls me into a hug.
“I love you,” she says, then releases me, resting back against her seat. “You deserve to be happy. Don’t worry about my reputation; it’s not like it’s some huge scandal. Besides, who cares what people say about me? I really don’t give a shit becauseI know who I am. I don’t need anyone’s approval, and neither do you. Fuck. I hate that you felt the need to protect me.”
She says that, but I know Aspen, and I remember what happened when the media got ahold of her last time. It wasn't pretty, and I don’t want to be the one to put her through that. I also don’t want her to feel guilty. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut but . . . I just hate lying to her.
“Seriously, Aspen, things between Carter and I are changing, and I want to try. I promised him I would try.”
She releases a drawn-out sigh and starts the car. “If you’re doing this, do it for yourself, not for me and certainly not for him. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nod.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” she pauses as her phone rings. Both of us frown in confusion as we look to see who’s calling, and my picture is displayed on the screen.
“What is going on with your phone?”
