Page 97 of A Better Place

“Mmm,” she hums, leaning back against me.

I look at her through the mirror, and she meets my eyes, then her attention flits over my face. She gasps. “What happened?!”

I shrug, not wanting her to worry even though a large — very large, if I’m being honest — part of me is afraid that it’s quite a bit to worry about, considering I’m certain I just went several rounds with Vince.

“I came from the gym. You should see the other guy,” I joke, not wanting her to worry.

“Who?” she asks, her fingers delicately tracing over the small cut on my cheek.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. Just some dude at Tate’s I had a bout with.” The lie settles in my stomach like a ton of bricks.

“You’ve never met him before?”

“Nope.”

At least that’s not a lie.

“Then why did you two bout?”

“He came in looking to blow off some steam.” I need her to fully trust me, and from the way she didn’t like it that I kept it from her that I knew Vince was in the area for just a few hours, I know I should tell her, but not tonight. Tate and Will are keeping an eye on Jack, and as long as I’m with Carly, I’m not worried for her safety.

“Hmm. Let me get you cleaned up.”

I definitely don’t deny her that, soaking up any moment I can get of having her hands on me. After she has placed a small bandage on my cut, I walk to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. I take a swig and lean my arms against the counter, trying to piece together what happened in the last few hours.

I scrub a hand down my face, feeling the tension in every part of my body coiling tight. I fight against the onslaught of furious thoughts threatening to hijack my mind and take a deep breath, shaking it off, and crack my neck from side to side. No way am I allowing thoughts of Vince to get into my head, to dim the light that is Carly.

I reach into my coat pocket for my Chapstick, my lips are always dry from having my mouth guard in, but I don’t find it.

“Do you have any Chapstick?” I holler to Carly.

“Yeah, side pocket in my purse. It’s on the shelf in the closet by the garage door.”

I walk over and grab her purse from the closet and set it on the kitchen table. “All I see is that lip gloss stuff,” I say as I dig through the pocket.

“Not that, you weirdo. There’s some Burt’s Bees stuff in there.”

I grab all the tubes I can find and pull out one that says Burt’s Bees on the side. I take off the dark red cap. The color of the lip balm is almost as dark as the cap. “Uh, babe? Is this right? It looks a little funny.”

“The Burt’s Bees, right?”

“That’s what it says,” I tell her, still examining the color. It looks like lipstick. There’s no way this is right. Right?

“Then that’s the stuff. Sorry, that’s the only kind I have. I’m super addicted to it.”

“This is what you use?” I ask her, knowing that her lips always taste amazing, like cherries.

I shrug my shoulders, assuming this is the right stuff. It must be the reddish color because of the cherries, I suppose. Do they put real cherries in it? Maybe that’s why it tastes so good. I glide the balm over my lips. It doesn’t taste like cherries, which I think is a little weird since hers always do, but whatever. They feel so much better now. I felt girly enough asking for it. I’m not going to bring up the taste, too.

“Babe! You ready? I’m starving and want to get to Tess and Barrett’s!” I holler at her through her house.

“Two minutes. I promise! I’ll be ready. You can wait in the car if you want!” she hollers back.

“Alright. I’ll go warm it up for ya!”

I head out the front door into the already dark night, climb into my SUV, and start it up so it will be nice and warm when she gets in. One thing I love about Carly is when she says two minutes, that’s what she actually means. So, soon enough, she’s entering the passenger side and settling in. She buckles her seatbelt and heaves a sigh.

“See? Ready,” she says with a smile in her voice.

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