Page 26 of Hot Response
That was fast.Study hall.
It was a minute before her response came back.We’re a couple blocks away and nothing’s happening. Will stop by.
He hadn’t expected that. And even as excitement at the thought of seeing her rose up, he worried she was pissed off. About what, he didn’t know, since he hadn’t done anything.
A few minutes later, the ambulance pulled up out front and Cait climbed down. Even in her uniform, which didn’t fit her quite as well as old jeans and sweaters, she was gorgeous and he couldn’t hold back the smile.
“Hi,” he said, but then fell silent because she didn’t smile back.
“Hi. Was Carter okay?”
“Sure. A little damp, which means he was probably cold, but he was okay.”
“No, I mean...like, emotionally. Was heokay?It seems weird for him to come talk to you about the fire.”
“He wanted to thank me for being there with you, and he said it’s on the way home.”
“Kind of, but not really.” She frowned, then blew out a hard breath. “It seems weird.”
“Teenage boys are weird. Maybe he was just curious about me since I was there with you.” And because he’d been checking out her ass, to the amusement of Carter’s Snapchat friends. “I wouldn’t read too much into it, Cait.”
“I can’t help it. It’s hard to tell what’s normal teenage boy and what might be a sign he’s struggling emotionally.”
“Maybe he needs an outlet.”
“I’ve tried to get him to talk to somebody. He blew smoke up the school psychologist’s ass, so that went nowhere. And private therapy’s expensive as hell.”
He shook his head. “I’m not talking about therapy. I’m talking about a physical outlet. And some... I don’t know. Someguystuff.”
“Ifguy stuffis some kind of euphemism for sex or getting him a hooker or something, I’m going to kick you in the balls.”
“No, I’m not talking about hiring a prostitute for your sixteen-year-old brother. Jesus, Cait.”
“Oh. So guy stuff means...what, exactly?”
“I don’t know. He needs to shoot some hoops or hit the gym. Sweat. Talk some shit. Say some bad words. Work through his emotions and shit.”
“I think talking to a professional is better for working through emotions than dropping the f-bomb during a basketball game.”
“Okay. Tell me again how that worked out for him.” She gave him quite a look and he immediately put up his hands. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Cait. I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did.”
“I’m doing the best I can. I just... I don’t know how to help him.”
“You’re doing amazing, Cait. They’re lucky to have you, and I mean that. But he’s a teenage boy. It’s hard to blow off steam when you live with your mom and your big sister, you know? Does he go out much?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Most of his interactions with his friends seem to be on his phone or on the headset he uses for his video game. Sometimes I make up chores I need done just so he gets up and moves around and doesn’t become one with the couch.”
“I play basketball on Saturday mornings sometimes. Just a casual pickup game we’ve been doing for years at a gym within walking distance. It only has a half-court, but it works for us. He could go with me. See if he likes it.”
“I don’t know how good he is. He used to shoot hoops in the driveway with some neighborhood kids, but I don’t know if he’s ever played a real game. And I haven’t even seen him touch a basketball at all since I moved back in.”
“He’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want him to drag down your game.”
He laughed. “It’s pickup ball, not the NBA. We’re there to have some fun and blow off some steam.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind. But I don’t know if he’d even want to go, honestly. He’d have to put his phone down for five minutes.”
