Page 114 of False Promises

The knots strangling my stomach loosened.

The giant rock sitting on my chest fractured a little.

My heartbeat evened out.

Yeah, I could do this.

Carter Hills against the world. This could work. I could reinvent myself.

And bring back music into my life. It was the thing I missed the most these days. Writing songs. Coming up with melodies. Creating musical pieces I’d be proud of.

With a pep in my step, something I hadn’t felt in what appeared like ages, I entered the lobby and paid for a night. The room looked nothing like the ones I usually stayed in with its drab green-stained maple wood, cheap wallpaper fraying at the corners, and worn upholstered chairs. For once, it felt oddly satisfying to do something Savannah would never have agreed to. The scent of stale humidity and years-old cigarette smoke was imprinted on each particle of air here. With a finger, I rubbed my nose, trying to adjust to the dust covering every surface and avoid sneezing. Once in the modest ten-by-ten room that had seen better days, I dropped face-first on the ragged queen-size mattress and fell asleep before I even had time to undress. The day’s events were catching up with me.

For the first time in months, my brain conjured new possibilities. And I felt safe. And happy.

And the curve on my lips followed me into my dreams.

29

CARTER

“Tell me, Carter. Why do you believe you tried so hard to make this relationship work and ignored the warning signs?”

In a navy leather chair, I bent forward, resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands.

Once I left Los Angeles, I had agreed to meet with Dr. Diaz in person after my manager suggested it. To clear my head and help me let go of the fact I shared a bed with the devil. Riley didn’t like the fact I sometimes blamed myself for how things turned out.

Dr. Diaz was the psychologist I consulted after my brother’s death. The one who helped with my episodes. Breathing techniques to quiet my mind and kill the voices of guilt in my head. All his doing.

He was a man who took no bullshit and encouraged you to face your fears and your doubts head-on. He wasn’t renowned for his gentle ways. In this industry, he had seen everything. No doubt that my life’s struggles were mild compared to what he dealt with on a regular basis.

“Carter?”

I sucked in a shaky gulp of air. Every cell in me trembled.

I balled my hands to avoid the tremors.

The thing was, I didn’t feel like opening up today. My emotional state was a mess, and I feared I would lose control if words traversed my lips.

“I heard you,” I whispered, still avoiding his eyes.

“In the last two weeks, we’ve made progress. We’ve talked about the psychological violence you went through and concluded together there is no shame in admitting your ex-girlfriend abused you. In many different ways. Mentally, financially, emotionally, physically. Today, I wanna know why you endured it for so long. On Monday, you enumerated a list of occurrences where you believed you should have reacted. Where you could have understood the game she was playing. We went over the stories her childhood friend and family told your team. The false accusations she made against her stepfather. So, you know you weren’t her first victim.”

“I’m not a victim.”

“Well, I’m glad we agree. Being a victim is a passive role. It puts you in a corner with no defense. I prefer the term survivor. Or fighter. You got out of there, Carter. It’s an important part of the story.”

“I endured it. And I let her use me. For far too long. I should have seen through her. I should have—”

“It’s easy to say afterward. When you’re in the middle of it, you don’t have all the clues.” Dr. Diaz let his words simmer between us. “Now I’ll repeat my question. Why do you believe you tried so hard to make this relationship work and ignored the warning signs?”

I remained silent.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

It felt like the temperature of the room soared, and I leaned to the side to grab the bottle of water on the table, fidgeting with the cap after I gulped half of it in one go.

My other hand ran through my hair before clamping around my throat. I was suffocating. The room spun around me.