Page 47 of Carter

But nothing does.

Because I don’t know what to say.

Why not? I mean, really there’s nothing stopping me from doing that if for some crazy reason it happened, but of course that won’t happen because I don’t have feelings for Nash. Or for anyone else.

My heart belongs to Ryan. That’s it. I’m not ready to think of anything beyond that.

“Sorry,” Kane says. “I’m just dealing with my own shit and I’m being a dick.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I just… never thought about being with anyone else. And for the record, I do not have a thing for the detective.”

“I didn’t say that. I said you like him.”

“Semantics,” I mutter, grabbing my beer to take another swig. “I don’t have any feelings toward him other than being grateful for what he’s doing. And appreciative.”

“Okay then,” Kane says. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say, but I can’t help but think about what he said. What he thinks…

I don’tlikeNash. I don’t even know him.

Yes, I trust him but because he’s proved to me that I can. He calls when he says. Updates me when he says. He’s patient and is taking his job and this case seriously. I’mgratefulto him for all of that. He’s done more in these few weeks than anyone else has since Ryan’s death almost three years ago. There’s no way I wouldn’t feel something about the guy after all he’s doing, but it is not in any way unprofessional.

But maybe…

Maybe I’ve noticed how good looking he is. I’ve definitely noticed how nice it would be to have someone like him around when I wake up and have a nightmare, or when I have to walk home in the dark. Not only is he big, but he’s trained and has a gun. He’s a protector at heart, but he’s also that on the outside too.

All of that has to do with me feeling lonely and not Nash specifically. I’m not ready to move on. I’m not. Maybe once Ryan’s case is solved, I’ll feel some kind of closure and I’ll move on. That’s future Carter’s issue.

Ryan wouldn’t want me to be miserable or lonely for the rest of my life. I know he wouldn’t want that. But the thought of doing so… it’s too much. Overwhelming.

Kane and I stay at the bar for about an hour and have three beers each. I don’t feel drunk or tipsy, just a little tired and relaxed.

We walk to the subway together because this is what we always do. He’s obligated and I don’t know why. Just a good guy maybe. He watches me as I disappear down the steps, and I make sure to wave at the last minute so he knows I appreciate it.

I don’t have many friends, and I can’t say that he’s a friend—I don’t even have his phone number—but he’s someone I can talk to. Everyone from group is. They’re people I feel safe with. Mentally, anyway. Physically? I don’t know if I’ll ever feel fully safe ever again. It’s something I’ve learned to live with.

I sit in the back corner of the subway car. It rocks, screeching and whooshing as it zooms through the tunnels, bringing me to my destination.

All I can think about is Nash. Things were fine before Kane put the thought in my head, made me question myself, and now I don’t know what I’m feeling.

I mean, I do, but what if I’m lying to myself?

I can’t have a crush on this cop. I just can’t. I won’t.

I can accept he’s attractive. I can accept he would be a good catch; someone I would be comfortable with. But I’m not even sure the guy is gay. He’s probably not. So even if there is some kind of crush, it won’t go anywhere. Which is perfect. Because I don’t want it to. There. It’s settled.

I take a hot shower when I get home, standing under the spray for so long just because it feels good. The heat is comforting because I swear I’m always cold. Not just because of the winter, but… something else. Something bone-deep. Something that may never go away. Something I just need to accept. And Ihave… mostly. I’ve just been questioning a lot of things lately, ever since this detective showed up telling me he wanted to re-open Ryan’s case. My emotions are high. Of course I’d feel strange.

When I’m out of the shower and dressed in sweats, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and thick socks, I get into bed and put the TV on. I rarely watch TV in bed, normally I just want to go to sleep. But I don’t think I can sleep right now. I grab my phone and notice I have a missed call from about forty minutes ago… when I was on the subway. I never have service then, but usually I notice the alerts when I’m out. I glance at the time, but it doesn’t make a difference. Nash would take my call at any time. So I hit the button to call him back. He answers on the second ring.

“Everything good over there?” he answers.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t notice the call until now.”

“Group run late?” he asks.

He remembers.