Page 74 of Carter

“They seem likeamazingpeople,” I amend, another tear falling from my eye. “I just… want her to be okay.” I sniffle, and then Nash’s arms are around me.

“She’ll be okay. She’s strong. She’s smart. She has someone to help her through whatever she needs.”

I nod against his chest, and this time, I throw my arms around him to hug him back.

Chapter twenty-five

Nash

I get home and wonder if I should have stayed with Carter longer. Teddy’s adoption really messed him up, more than either of us expected it to. Though, that could be because ofwhoadopted him. I can’t deny the strange coincidence that the only person who had any interest in that dog today was named Ryan. It does feel like a sign, if you believe in those sorts of things. I’m not sure I do. But that’s because I don’t need to. Maybe Carter does, and that’s okay.

It’s still early, and I walk aimlessly around my house, trying to figure out what to do with myself. A nap would be nice, but I’m not sure I could sleep, and it’s nearing five so I’d be up all night if I tried now. Not a great idea. I drop onto the couch and turn on the TV to see if I can find something that’ll keep my interest.

I don’t want to bury myself in work. Not today. I said I would take the weekend off to help Carter, and that’s what I’m doing—what I’ve done. Yesterday, I was there most of the day helping everyone clean, prepare, pick up items, set everything up, and so much more. I woke up earlier than usual this morning to grab breakfast for everyone and get there on time. And maybe right now, I just want to do something other than work—in any capacity.

I’m flipping through channels to see what’s on and not much catches my attention. I settle on a Rambo movie because I remember watching them with Jericho when we were kids, but I don’t pay full attention. I browse furniture options for my backyard to prepare for the better weather. Hell, I could sit out there now if I got a fire pit, but it feels rushed. What’s the point in getting it if I won’t use it? But if I did, it would be something to do—something other than working.

My phone dings with a text as the notification pops up at the top of the screen, immediately pulling me away from the over-priced patio furniture sets.

Carter: Do you think she’s doing okay?

Me: I think she’s doing just fine.

Carter: Are you just saying that?

Me: Do you think I’m someone who would just say something to make you feel better?

The bubbles dance and go away. They start up again, and I stare at my phone until the text comes through.

Carter: Honestly?

Me: Always.

Carter: I used to think that’s who you were, but now I don’t.

Me: What changed your mind?

Carter: You’re just… different with me than you used to be.

I think about what he could mean, the way the last couple weeks have gone, and I can’t deny it. I am different with him. I care more. I care abouthim. It’s not just about the case now; it’s more than that.

Me: What are you doing right now?

Carter: Laying on the couch and watching TV. Why?

Me: Do you want to come over?

Those little bubbles dance again, on and off for two full minutes. I’ve crossed a line. Gone too far. He tells me he thinks I’m different, opening up to me, and I invite him over like some kind of creep. What is wrong with me?

Carter: Okay.

I breathe a sigh of relief and respond.

Me: I’ll pick you up.

Carter: I’ll get an Uber.

Me: Why? I can pick you up.