Page 25 of Wreck Me

“Don’t I?”

“Trust me, whatever preconceived notion you have, I guarantee you’re way off base.”

A deep chuckle escapes him and it only pisses me off more.

“Whatever. Are we done here?”

“No. We need to talk. And not fucking here. Up the road to the end of the street, take a right at the clock tower. Last house on the left.”

“Inviting me back to your place so soon, Hayes?”

“Fuck you. Don’t make a goddamn scene, and for fuck’s sake, don’t talk to anyone.”

“Meet you at home, honey!” I say just to piss him off as I step out of the alley and take my time wandering through the quiet downtown. I wasn’t expecting to run into Carter here, even if I was hoping to. Even if my dad has threatened my life to stay away from Aspen Ridge, the Haye’s family and their distillery, I thought it was long past time that I take a trip tovisit the tiny town hidden in the woods. I couldn’t stay away, and no one knows I’m here but me.

Excitement courses through me at being alone with Carter again, at seeing the inside of the place he calls home. I take my time walking up the street, looking at every storefront I pass—a bar called The Night Owl, a bookstore called Book Bound, which I actually stop in front of to look through the window. The inside is whimsical, a large sign in the window display case with a Cheshire Cat perched on the top, arrows pointing left and right with different fictional lands written in loopy scroll—Narnia, Middle Earth, Neverland, and Westeros. I definitely want to go in here on my way back.

I continue up the road until I reach the large clock tower that sits at the very end of Main Street, signaling the end of their downtown area. I take my turn and walk to the end of the short, dead-end road. Rows of gorgeous Sitka spruce trees stand tall behind the few houses on the street. Lampposts wrapped in Christmas lights line the brick sidewalk. It’s even more charming than I imagined it would be. I easily find a modest home at the end of the street. Sipping on my caffeine fix, I stand outside of it and look up. The house is ten times smaller than anything I’ve ever lived in, and I find myself extremely jealous that this is all his. I’ve always wanted to live in a place like this. Modest, comfortable, and cozy.

It’s painted a faded-out blue, with white trim that’s chipped and whitewashed. The grass is vibrant, and there’s a small porch out front with no furniture. I wouldn’t have guessed that Carter lived alone, but that makes me wonder. But, then again, he wouldn’t have told me to meet him here if he had roommates.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t register Carter’s footsteps approaching until he practically shoulder-checks me.

“Well, thank fuck my coffee is almost gone or you would have just spilled it all over me for the second time today.”

“Get your ass inside the house, Nash.”

“Yes, sir.” And fuck if I don’t love the way his face flames once the words hit his ears.

He opens the door, and I notice that it was left unlocked—interesting. The town must have zero crime, or Carter is just way too trusting. That or no one fucks with the Hayes family.

I follow him inside, Carter’s warm, woodsy, sweet scent filling my nose. I take a deep breath, inhaling it and wishing I could bottle it up. Any tension I was carrying with me drains, even if the situation between us isn’t ideal, something about being here and in his space is wholly comforting.

My eyes dart around for any clues to give me more insight into him. There are blown-up old-school comic book posters framed along the wall of the entryway that flow into the living area, and I’m instantly intrigued, my heart stopping as I study them. This is my thing. My favorite comics, and they’re hanging in his house. I do my best to control my excitement at this find.

There’s a small table in the modest entryway with a bowl cradling a set of keys and his wallet. Hardwood floors that are scuffed and knotted from old age extend as far as I can see, but I don’t get much more time to take in his space as much as I want to.

Carter immediately spins on me, my back hitting the closed door behind me as he stays a foot away, his eyebrows pinched together, his cheeks still red. I meet his eyes through the lenses of my glasses, and I notice his darting all over my face, trying to get a read on me.

“Now, why the fuck are you in my town?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s not private property, I’m free to visit wherever I want.”

I don’t know why I continue to piss him off. I’m a glutton for punishment, apparently. I need him to hate me so that I can stay away, but I can’t fucking stay away to begin with. I’ve created a cycle that I can’t break free from. I want what I can’t have, and I should walk away, but I can’t let go.

“I’m not playing these fuckin’ games with you. If you need me to beg, I’ll fucking beg. But I need you to stay away from this town and the people in it. I don’t trust you. If you aren’t going to write a glowing article about us, just leave. Please.”

His desperation about breaks me. I want to tell him the truth. I want to tell him that I tasted an Aspen Ridge Distillery whiskey and went looking for more information on it while searching for my next location, that I fell in love with the town before I ever stepped foot in it. I want to explain how my father is a controlling piece of shit, how he’s forbidden me from writing a feature on Aspen Ridge or the distillery, how the only good thing in my life is my career and that he would ruin me if he knew I was here right now. That I know how fucked-up this is, but that I can’t walk away now.

I’m dying to share how much I love my job. That I just want to tell stories and get a positive spotlight on businesses and places that could benefit from it. I want to learn about his family history, the town, the distillery. I want to tell him that my dad is a cruel sonofabitch and is twisting my arm because I don’t know what else I’ll do if I don’t work for his magazine. I’d have nothing.

That from the moment I saw his photo, I’ve been madly obsessed with him. I want to tell him that from the moment I met him, I’ve been consumed by him, in every waking thought, in my dreams, that I’m lovesick and I’ve never felt anything like it before. I never believed in love at first sight, but fuck, what else could this be? Doesn’t he feel it?

But I can’t tell him any of this. He’d try to have mecommitted to a mental institution; hell, if the tables were turned, I’d probably do the same. I just need time. I need to figure this out, and I need Carter to get to know me. So, I’ll play the part of the asshole until I can figure out what to do and how to get everything we both want. Stepping into his space, walking him backward a few paces, I know what I have to do. Because I can’t give him up, and I can’t take a chance on my father finding out until I can make a plan to get Carter’s family the feature they deserve, and he gives me an opportunity to explore whatever is between us.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say, speaking up. “I’m going to my family’s beach house this weekend, and you’re going to come with me.”

He scoffs, his head jerking backward. “You’re out of your fucking mind. I’m good.”

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