Page 50 of Fragile hearts

“You think I’m a good friend?” He sounds so hopeful. It’s tearing my heart out. I swallow past the lump in my throat as Killian lowers his head in defeat. “You’re the best friend, Cars,” I say, hoping he can hear the honesty in my voice. He closes his eyes, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

“Hey—Look at me.”

He keeps his gaze down, staring at the ground instead. “Can we go inside, please?”

“Of course we can.” I retract my hands from his face, holding them out so I can help him stand. He sways on his feet, grabbing my arm for support. Killian stands up. He hesitates before holding out his arm as well. Carson grabs it even though he’d rather didn’t. It takes us a few minutes to get him inside. Carson stumbles towards the couch, but I stop him, directing him towards the stairs instead. “You can sleep in my room.”

His face lights up. “Really?”

I nod, grinning at the excited look on his face. “Of course.”

He holds out his finger right in front of my face and gently touches my nose. “Boop.”

I huff out a laugh. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” The sooner he is in bed, the sooner I can interrogate the two other men in the room and find out what the hell happened tonight. We stumble into my bedroom. He face-plants into my bed, grabbing my pillow, holding it tight to his face. I circle the bed, standing near his feet, then stare at Connor. “Can you get him some water?” He nods dejectedly.

I turn to Killian. “Help me get his shoes off.”

I run my fingers through Carson’s hair. “Cars?”

He mumbles something, cuddling the pillow closer. “Honey, can you look at me?” He stills then turns towards me, the saddened look in his eyes still present. “You called me honey,” he mutters, “I like that.” I chuckle lightly, making a mental note to call him that more often. I stroke his cheek again. He leans into my touch, his eyes closing. “Can you do something for me?”

“I’ll do anything for you.” He sounds so tired and sad but still so honest.

“Can you sit up, please? So we can take your shoes off.” He groans, turning his body. He blinks several times before meeting my eyes.

“Hi,” he says, lips tilting up cocking his head.

“Hi,” I reply. I help him sit up, taking off his shoe while he grins at me the whole time, but when Killian nears to take his other shoe off, he freezes. His eyes fly to me in panic. “Can you do it?” Killian kneels on the floor searching for Carson’s eyes. “Cars, please…We can explain.” Carson shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. I can barely hear him, but his words are not directed to me, but to the man next to me.

Killian his face falls. “Don’t say that—Cars, please, please don’t say that.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Carson replies, still in that sad tone. I squeeze his hand, wondering what the hell is going on.

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry for not telling you, for hiding it from you. We were just scared.”

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he slurs, his eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. “Never.”

I push him down on the bed. The moment his shoes hit the floor, he snuggles into the pillow. “I’m sorry, Cars,” Connor mutters, placing a glass of water on my nightstand. I hand it over to Carson. He swallows it down in a few gulps. I stare at his legs. Jeans couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in. “Carson,” I call out again. He blinks, wary eyes meeting mine. “Is it okay if we take your jeans off? It would be more comfortable.”

“You can do whatever you want, Sunshine,” he murmurs. “I trust you.” My heart skips a beat. He has no idea how much his words mean to me.

I take his jeans off, moving him so I can tuck him in with the blankets, running my fingers through his hair until he’s relaxed. I ease off the bed, giving him one last stroke over his cheek, taking a step backward. His fingers grab my wrist, eyes flitting open. “Don’t go,” he begs, exhaustion seeping through his voice. “You make it better. You make everything better.” I gently remove his arm and sit on the normally empty side of the bed. He curls into me, laying his head on my lap. Sighing deeply. “Sunshine?” I run my fingers through his hair again.

“I’m here,” I promise him, “I’m right here.” He lays his hand on my stomach, stroking my bare skin.

“You won’t leave?”

“Never, I’ll be right here.”

He hums, burrowing himself further in my lap. “You’re my miracle,” he whispers before his breathing evens out.

I wait a few minutes until his soft snores fill the room, then raise my eyes to the two other men in the room, who are gazing down at the man in my lap, eyes filled with sorrow.

“Now who’s going to tell me why he thinks he’s a bad brother—” I pause, keeping my emotions in check, remembering how brokenly he had asked me if he was a good friend. “Or why he’s convinced he’s a bad friend.”

They say nothing for a few minutes. I look down at Carson, my lips tilting up as he lies there so peacefully.