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Carter’s right. He looks like a tool.
“I want to go over there so bad.”
“No,” I tell Carter. “Carlee is an adult. She can date who she wants.” The words taste like ash on my tongue.
“But nothim. God, can you imagine if she married a guy like that and we had to put up with him at holiday dinners, every year, for the rest of our lives? I don’t know him, but I bet it would only take one dinner before I wanted to punch him in the face.”
The thought of Carlee marrying anyone ignites a flare of resentment within me, but I stifle the feeling before the fire can spread.
“It’s just a date,” I say. “Relax.”
“I’ll relax once I know Carlee won’t find herself with another controlling loser.” Carter, once again, lets more information slip about his sister.
Her ex was controlling?
How so?
Was he violent?
If so, I hope I never run into the asshole. It wouldn’t end well for him if I did.
“You’re the only guy I trust around Carlee,” Carter’s declaration threatens to bring me to my knees. “Too bad you’re like a brother to her.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Too bad.”
If Carter knew what happened on our prom night… how I’d kissed his innocent sister and then left her stranded without a word, he would kick my ass.
And I’d let him.
It’s the least I deserve.
“Come on.” Carter pushes off the vintage game. “Let’s go over there.”
“No way, man. Knock it off. We’re not seventeen anymore.” The days of sabotaging Carlee’s romantic life are over. Or they should be.
Carter feels differently. He moves across the room with determination, catching the attention of everyone in his path. Their whispers turn into exclamations of disbelief when they see me following in his wake.
God damn you, Carter.
I nod at some kids staring at me then tuck my chin to my chest, as if that will be enough to keep anyone else from noticing me.
Carter steps over the rope separating the mini golf course from the rest of the room and makes a beeline for his sister’s group. I choose to walk in through the entrance, shooting the attendant an apologetic look for my friend’s antics.
Morgan sees Carter first. Her eyes widen, and she nudges Carlee not so gently.
The blonde lifts her head from her pink putter and I see the surprise, confusion, and ultimately frustration settle on her face when she sees her brother. She turns to Morgan and says something. The brunette shakes her head emphatically. If I had to guess, Carlee asked if Morgan told Carter where they’d be.
I take out my phone and open the social media app that’s become the bane of my existence these past weeks. Out of respect for Carlee, I post the pictures and captions she sends my way through Avery—even the ones that make me want to say “fuck it” and abandon this rebranding effort. I don’t mind people believing I’m embracing my move to the Lonestars, but I hate that so much of my life is on display to try and satisfy them.
I go along with it for Carlee’s sake. I don’t want to give her a hard time. That’s the only reason I don’t push back on sharing a dumb picture of the Midtown skyline at sunset or the running path near my apartment with the serene pond in the background.
I tap the app’s search bar and enter Carlee’s name. I click her profile. Sure enough, there’s a post of her and Morgan smiling over a cocktail with the name of this establishment tagged in the caption. That’s how Carter knew where to find her.
The guys they’re with aren’t in the picture. A quick scroll through Carlee’s profile confirms there’s not a single picture of aman who isn’t a family member. I wonder if I could find one of her ex if I go back far enough.
Knock it off, Corey.
I exit the app and put my phone away before I give in to the temptation. I stop a few feet away from the group, but Carter keeps going.
