Page 49 of Carter

He shrugged. “He had a bit to drink.”

“A bit? He’s smashed!”

“Yeah, don’t know what happened. He made a call sometime and didn’t look happy when he got back. I thought he’d been talking to you and you guys started fighting or something.”

I shook my head slowly. “No, nothing like that happened.”

“Well… I don’t know. He got back, shitty like I’d done something wrong, and then he drank himself to oblivion. He’s been muttering nonsense since then, so I wouldn’t pay any attention to him. Honestly, he’s a fucking disaster, but the voice on him… Holy shit, that voice gavemegoose bumps, Leah. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

I put my hand against Carter’s forehead. He was sweaty and hot, and his eyes opened and looked at me. His lips flincheddownwards in a frown and then he closed his eyes and kept them that way.

When we got to the house, Rome helped him into the suite. He crashed into his mattress, and I stared at him in worry, wondering who he’d made a call to and what had gotten him so worked up.

“You wanna go out for dinner or something?” Rome asked. “Or I can pick something up. Pizza?”

I nodded. “Pizza sounds good.”

“Cool. I’ll be back in twenty then.”

He left us after that, and I crawled into the bed. Straddling Carter, I grabbed at his arms and removed his jacket. Still exhausted from work, it took every ounce of my energy, and when I was at the second sleeve, he stirred again and mumbled.

“Don’t hate me.”

I paused and stared down at him. “Carter?”

“Don’t hate me, Leah.”

“Why would I hate you?”

He opened his mouth, and it stayed that way for what felt like forever, before he whispered, “Cause I killed her.”

My body tightened. I was so confused. I leaned over him and rested a hand against the side of his face. “Who, Carter?”

He was too out of it to respond.

I sighed heavily and removed his jacket, throwing it on the floor. Then I grabbed at his shoes and took them off. I stood by the edge of the bed, hovering over him, wondering what he wasn’t saying.

I didn’t leave until Rome returned, and even then I checked up on him every hour.

Eighteen

It was the sound of puking that woke me up in the middle of the night. I jumped out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. Carter was over the toilet, half-naked, his skin pale and sickly looking.

I hurriedly opened the cupboard and removed a washcloth. Soaking it in cool water, I returned to him just as he flushed the toilet and leaned back. I kneeled next to him and set the cloth over his forehead. He stared at me with bleary eyes.

“You’re sick,” I muttered with concern.

“I’m fine.” The sound of indifference in his voice made me frown.

“You don’t sound it and you certainly don’t look it.”

He grabbed the washcloth and threw it away. “Don’t push, Leah. Alright? I’m not in the mood right now.”

I glanced at the forlorn washcloth and then at him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

I jumped, not at all expecting his random burst of anger. I moved away from him and rested my back against the wall, bringing my knees to my chest. I watched him for some time as he stared off in space, looking worse for wear the more minutes that passed.

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