Page 17 of Behind the Cascades
Before I get out of the car, I search the stairs and parking lot, looking for any signs of Carter. I haven't seen him in weeks, but I still try to avoid any awkward run-ins. I’m just praying that I get that raise and can move out of here soon. I'm not asscared or angry anymore, but I still don't want anything to do with him. He's the reason Hayes and I aren't together anymore, and for that, he’s as good as dead to me.
Getting out of my car, I make it up the flight of stairs and unlock the door. Now, I always listen for the deadbolt to click before I touch the handle. I slam the door behind me and deadbolt it again as soon as I’m inside.
I take a deep breath as I lean on the door and scan over every inch of the living room and kitchen.Not as scared, my ass.
Nothing is out of place, as it hasn't been since that one incident.
With a sigh, I throw my purse on the little table by the door and then make my way into the living room. Flipping on the TV as I go, torturing myself with the news. I leave the noise on in the background, praying I never hear any mention of Navy SEALs. I don't even know where Hayes and Drew are, but that doesn't stop me from stressing over every war-torn country.
My fridge is nearly empty, but for once, I'm actually hungry. I grab an uncrustable out of the freezer to thaw. At this point, I don't care what I'm eating. Any calorie to keep myself from getting low blood sugar and passing out is fine with me.
"BREAKING NEWS: USS Fitzbarell Naval Ship," a newscaster announces from the living room. My stomach sinks as I race around the counter to see what's going on.
"Collided with a container ship early this morning. Five sailors appear to be missing, and multiple injuries have been reported."
The screen shows grainy footage of the ship being guided in by another boat as the newscaster discusses the tragedies like it's any other day.
I scrambled off the ground, calling Connie.
"Hey, sweet girl."
"Have you seen the news?" My voice comes out breathy, like I've been running for hours.
"It's not them." Her reply is automatic, like she was waiting for me to call.
"You're sure?"
She lets out a long sigh. "Yeah, I know where they are. Hayes gave me the code. Do you want to know?"
I shake my head, even though she can't see it. I don't want to know. I don't want to obsess over everything happening in that country. Wondering where they are is one thing; knowing where they are is completely another. It's better for my sanity to not have that information.Says the one watching the news all the time, like she’s seventy-five and not twenty-one.
"No, thanks, though. Just keep me updated if anything happens."
"I'm sorry, Charlie. I love you. Things will get better, I promise." Connie has always been nonpareil, and this is no different. She listened to everything I told her about the Carter situation, and she didn't doubt me once.
Sighing, I end the call and decide to take a shower. My good mood has been ruined, and I'm falling back into my normal depressed state.
I turn the water scalding hot, hoping it'll burn off the tension and anxiety that have built up inside me. As the steam fills the bathroom, I try to focus on the soothing sensation of the water against my skin and not my thoughts of Hayes. It doesn’t work though, he’s always on the forefront of my mind. It’s depressing how much I miss him, miss his voice, miss his smell. Simply thinking about him and I swear I can smell peppermint. I continue to stand in the water until it starts to turn cold.
Moving the flimsy shower curtain out of my way, I reach for my towel on the hook without taking my eyes off the ground. I feel exhausted; the highs and lows of today have taken a toll on me. Theweight of my emotions feels unbearable as I wrap the towel around myself.
"Charlotte."
My blood runs as cold as the water I was just standing under. The pompous voice sends shivers down my spine as my attention snaps up to the intruder.
Carter is standing in my bathroom doorway.
"What are you doing here?" I shriek at him.
His chin tips to the side as he looks at me, mystified. "We need to talk."
I stare at him, my mouth gaping open. He looks unhinged, like he hasn't slept in days. His hair is disheveled and greasy, and his clothes are dingy like he's been wearing them for days or even longer. From hot surfer to sloppy stoner.
"You need to leave." I try to keep my voice steady and be assertive, but the shake is undeniable.
He holds something up between two of his fingers, his eyes narrowing at me like I should know what it is. I glance between his hand and his eyes several times before I realize what he’s holding. Uncle Roger’s mint tin.
My voice comes out breathy as I try to make sense of what’s going on. “How do you have that?”
