Page 77 of Carter

By the time I was at the front door, I had to bend down and stare hard at the knob in the dark. Putting the key in was going to be a mission, especially if the world continued spinning like it was.

I raised the key and it hit the knob before it disappeared in front of me.

What the…

“Where the fuck have you been?”

I blinked and looked up. The door had magically opened in the blink of an eye, and Carter was standing there, fuming.

I took a step in and nearly fell over an imaginary step that had mysteriously formed in front of the door. He caught me and stood me upright, pulling me into the apartment before slamming the door shut.

Then I smelled him.

No, really, I put my nose against his chest and inhaled long and hard. Then I realized I’d just sniffed at him like a dog, and I rapidly pulled away from him. He was glowering at me. The fuck was his problem?

“What happened to a few drinks?” he demanded. “You’ve been out for hours, Leah. It’s two in the fucking morning.”

“I didn’t realize I had a curfew,” I retorted.

He shook his head, and his spinning face looked frustrated. “You wouldn’t answer your phone, and neither did Melanie.”

“We turned our phones off.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s this thing called property, and when someone has a piece of property that’s theirs, they can do what they want with it.”

“Stop being a smart-ass, Leah.”

“I’m not. I’m actually tired and going to bed right now. G’night.”

I went to pass him, moving in the direction of the wall when he stood in front of me. And to a drunk person, he might as well have been a giant.

“Move, Carter,” I told him.

He stared down at me. “What did you do tonight?”

“That’s my own business!”

“You seriously want to play this game?”

I put a hand to my head and shut my eyes, trying to stop the dizziness. I was getting angrier by the second.

“You know,” I said pointedly, “you don’t see me waiting by the door demanding to know where you’ve been every goddamn time you’ve went out, doing who knows what! There’s something called privacy. You taught me that once, remember?”

“Privacy, huh?”

I opened my eyes and glared. “Yeah, pri-va-cy. Is the word too long for you or something? It’s only four or five syllables long.”

“No, it’s not too long for me, and it’s three fucking syllables, Leah.”

“Well, good then. I’m glad we got that sorted out—”

“Were you with a guy?” he cut in. “Is that why you’re being secretive?”

My eyes widened, and this time my vision had steadied enough to see him in his entirety. His nostrils were flared, and he was on the verge of exploding. Thing was, I was drunk, so I didn’t really care.

“Leah,” he pressed edgily.

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