Page 83 of Ly to Me
Here it comes.
Three, two, one—
His lips rolled in as he nodded. “That’s alright, son. Maybe sit and think it through a little longer, but you’re fine to change yourmind as you grow. You’re a bright young man. I have no doubts when it comes to your future.”
He walked away like his response hadn’t lifted the heaviest burden from my shoulders. Telling Jared was a huge step on its own, and telling my parents was right there with it. But, how would Lyra feel if she knew I was changing my plans, all because I fell in love with her?
30
Lyra
The Loopholes
Carver told me to take my time, that he'd wait outside for me to be ready. The second he excused himself from the room, I fell to my knees on the dirty yellow rug. I wasn’t sure whatemotion was hitting me, because they all became so much that I just froze in place.
What in the ever-loving fuck was Carver thinking when he came here and took it all? How much did he know? How much did he guess? Did he see Chet when he came and got everything? Did Chet say anything, if so?
Being in my room felt suffocating as a teen, and it was no different now that I was twenty-seven. Instead of trying to sort through my mess of a mind, I decided pushing it away was still best. Before I walked out through my old bedroom door, I tossed a final glance back at the walls, the bed, the rug. It had all once been the closest thing I had to a safe space in the house, but years ago, that changed.
I wanted to burn the whole place down and forget any of it existed.
Air rushed back into my lungs when I stepped outside and saw Carver leaning against the hood of his truck, typing away on his phone in nothing but a pair of jeans. I’d been so distraught over the possibility of losing my collection that I hadn’t noticed he not only had no shirt on, but also, no shoes. His hair was a mess, as if his fingers had ripped through it all morning, and beneath his eyes sat a darker shade of color that looked like it came from more than just lack of sleep.
I blinked as the image of him shifted in my mind—younger, no tattoos, less facial hair, and slightly more maintained brown locks. My chest ached at the thought that this was what Carver probably looked like when I left him. I’d had my reasons, but never allowed myself to hear what his side was. So much had happened that night that it all started to blur together. I wore my hatred for him and all men like a badge of honor, but look how far that had gotten me.
I ran away, just like my mother.
I’d made one solid friend since then, but stayed to myself until I needed something. I skirted by on the tips of my toes, constantly at the mercy of how far my appearance could get me before the men I leeched from realized I would never put out. For some, that was mere minutes. Others lasted a few days—a week, at best.
And then there was Carver. Miles and hours away, but his mind had been on me, while I’d spent my time trying to erase him from mine.
“Idiot,” I scorned myself as I made my way to him, dodging overgrown weeds and litter that scattered the lawn. The hand holding his phone fell to his side, all of his focus shifting to me with my last steps.
“Done?” he asked, a faint smile gracing his beautiful features.
“Well, for now”—I glanced over my shoulder at the dilapidated house—“I think so.”
“I didn’t bring any gasoline, little Ly.”
“Huh?”
He smirked as I turned back to face him, then tipped his chin toward the house. “To burn it. You have that look”—his finger circled in front of his eye—“you had when you were burning my furniture.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged. “I honestly don’t care. Never liked that set, anyway. I do miss my pillow, though. Think you can buy me a new one in a few weeks?”
I scowled and smacked his arm. He laughed.
“Jerk,” I muttered as a smile fought its way through. “I’ll replace that, and the chairs. Before I go, I mean.”
Carver stiffened at my words. Hell, I did, too. Everything kept fuckin’ slipping out from my lips without a filter, which was normal, but not at all helpful when my mind couldn’t settle on what it wanted.
“So, you were leavin’ then, this morning?” His voice shifted completely, darkening like his eyes. “Or, was this all part of some grand plan to see how far I’d go to catch you?”
“What?”
His fingers were around my throat in seconds. “I can’t take the games anymore, Lyra.” He pulled me closer, but his grip was noticeably soft. “The man you got last night thoughtthatwas all over with. But, you still”—his jaw worked, eyes darting around my face, then falling to my stomach. Suddenly, he released me and turned, slamming a fist down on the hood of his truck. “Fuck!”
