Page 88 of Carter

“Hopefully that means neither of us will get sick.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” I lean in to kiss the side of his head without thinking. It’s quick, but instantly turns the tension up. “Let’s continue the movie,” I say before I do something crazy—like box him up against the wall.

With a soft smile, he follows after me. When I sit on the couch, he sits closer than he was before.

“This okay?” he asks.

I lift my arm. “Is this?”

He leans into my side, laying his arm over my stomach while mine drapes over his shoulders. I grab the remote and push the button to play the movie. Neither of us says anything, we just lay together and watch the movie. I feel him breathing against me, slow and even, the same way I’m sure he feels it from me.

This feels right.

I never thought something like this would feel right for me, but it does with him. It’s shocking, but I’ll take it. I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the face and tell it to get out.

This could be a good thing. Thisisa good thing. No matter where it goes, or how it ends. It’s good. Because the more time I spend with Carter, the more I realize what he said is true.

Love is worth the pain.

I’m not sure I can explain what love is or how I would know that I loved someone who isn’t my mother or brothers, but I know I feel something for Carter. Something worth so much that I wouldn’t take it back, even if it hurt in the end.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Carter gives me a little space so I can pull it out. It’s Jericho.

“Sorry, I have to take this.”

He moves to sit up, but I hold him to me. I don’t want him to leave; I have nothing to hide. I catch his smile from the corner of my eye as he settles against me again, pausing the movie.

“Hey,” I answer. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking in. Is that—are youout?” he asks, sounding shocked.

“No, just watching a movie.”

“Watching a movie? Who is this?”

“Fuck off, Jericho.”

“Why are you watching a movie? You’re not working? Are you with someone?”

“What do you want?” I say, not wanting to get into this conversation with him now. He’ll keep me on the phone forever.

It’s silent for a moment, and he makes a small, frustrated sound before saying, “I just heard from Hollis.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, running my hand down my face.

“He’s going back into treatment.”

“How much?”

“I covered it.”

“Tell me how much.”

“Nash, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it this time. You cover it enough.”