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“Yeah.”
I look over at him, noting the wine glass in his hand and the frown on his lips. “Did you skip tonight because of what happened in the laundry room?”
Carter groans. “Great. Does everyone know about that?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Oh god.” Carter takes a long drink from his wine before groaning a second time. “Oh god, Travis is going to find out, isn’t he?”
I nearly laugh. “I’m sure he already knows. Maison and Jake keep him updated on you.”
He frowns at me, seeming surprised by this information. I know he doesn’t talk to Maison, but he talks to Jake a little and obviously talks to Travis. Did he really not know? “How do you know that?” he asks.
“Maison mentioned it.”
“You talk to Maison?”
I fight a wince, realizing I may have just ruined any hope of getting Carter to trust me. I’ve aligned myself with the enemy. But Maison’s not the enemy. If I could just get Carter to see that…
“Yeah,” I say carefully. It’s not like it’s a secret. Plenty of people have walked by during our nights by the fire. Survivors who can’t sleep. Operatives working late shifts. Even Dr. Singh once. I try to make it sound casual by adding, “Sometimes. He’s…”
He’s amazing. He’s breaking apart at the seams. He’s the only person who makes me feel comfortable in my own skin. He’s missing right now and it feels like a piece of me is missing along with him.
He’s not the villain you want him to be.
You’re killing him—why can’t you see that?
Carter’s expression flickers through a few different emotions before settling on confusion. “I thought you’re in love with Travis?”
“I was in love with Nathan Roarke,” I correct, remembering the seemingly endless conversations I’ve had about this with both Dr. Singh and Maison. I’ve talked it to death—literally. I was in love with Nathan Roarke. In love with an idea, a possibility, the only hope I had in that compound of terror. It wasn’t real. “I’ve learned it’s not the same.”
“No,” Carter agrees. “It’s not.”
It’s only then that I realize what he’s implying by asking about loving Travis when and how he did—I thought you’re in love with Travis, not Maison.
I don’t love Maison.
But telling him that, saying those words out loud, feels… wrong.
Not because it’d be a lie—Maison and I are too much of a fucking mess to even consider loving each other right now—but because it feels too final. There’s a safety I’ve found with Maison. A soft place to land. Nothing close to what I need, but it’s a start. Besides, I’m not blind—the man is sexy as all hell. I’d be lying if I said I don’t have a small part of me already hoping for more one day. A small part of me that can see a happy ending with Maison by my side.
Pointing out that I don’t love Maison feels like a promise I won’t be able to take back later. Especially if I ever want Carter to trust me.
I change the subject a little, putting the pressure on him instead. “Do you love him? Travis, I mean. Not Nathan.”
Carter doesn’t answer right away, adding a log to the fire instead. I almost smile as I realize the way he tips it onto the burning logs is the same way his brother does it. I’ve heard countless stories of their childhoods from Maison. They weren’t just brothers growing up, they were best friends. Carter would follow Maison around, learning everything he could from him, soaking it all up, becoming a mini-version of his brother but with his own twists and turns that made him—in Maison’s words—“This kickass little person who was all of a sudden becoming a man.”
“Are you fishing for information so you can go tell Maison?” Carter finally asks, not answering my previous question.
“What?” Anger spikes in my chest, but it’s quickly replaced with hurt. Does he really think that little of me? I guess I can’t blame him, but I’m damn sure going to set him straight. “I’d never do that.”
“Why? You seem to be friends with him. And you’ve never liked me. We both know that.”
“That’s not…” I pause, knowing he’s right. I should probably explain to him my reasons for being a total asshole, like I explained them to Maison, but now isn’t the time for that. “There’s them and then there’s us. I’d never betray one of us, Carter.”
He looks mildly impressed, giving me a look like he’s reassessing me. I force myself to stay quiet so I don’t ruin it in case he’s leaning in my favor.
After a minute or so, he says, very quietly, “We slept together. It was before he left this time. I wanted to know how it’d feel. I—I wanted to know if I could even…”
