“Yeah, but I’m an asshole.”
“And I’m not?”
“Fair point, but Carly,you? You don’t go around punching people. You roll your eyes and make snarky comments and critique people’s wardrobe choices.”
She puffs up her chest. “Maybe there’s more to me than meets the eye.”
“So it seems.” I can’t help my smile—I mean, seriously, that punch was pretty epic—but the levity doesn’t last. This whole situation is so beyond fucked, they haven’t even invented a curse word that covers it.
“Are you coming,” she asks, “or do I have to sucker-punch you too?”
I blow out a breath and lean back against the table, crossing my arms over my chest. Most of the fight is gone, the hunger for vengeance subsiding. I don’t know whether to be grateful or pissed.
“What are you doing here, Carly? Really.”
“I was with Stevie and them when they found Ani. They thought I’d be safer back at—”
“I don’t mean here in this house. I mean here in this basement. Here withme, busting through my wards, trying to save my ass from the same fate that befell my fucked-up brother. Why?”
“Why do youthink?” She rolls her eyes, a move I know all too well.
Goddess, I wish we didn’t have to have this conversation. I wish we could just keep ignoring it until her infatuation finally burns out, or she finds a guy who can give her what she needs. What she deserves.
It’s not me. No matter what kind of wishful thinking she’s engaged in, shehasto know that by now. Even if she chose to ignore me all the times I told her as much, all she has to do is watch me whenever Stevie walks into the room.
Even an idiot can see I’ll never look at anyone the way I look at the woman I love.
“Carly, look. I don’t know what your deal is with Stevie. One minute you’re warning me not to get involved with her, the next minute you and your mean girl posse are damn near trying to drown her, now all of a sudden you’re buddied up on this rescue mission… My head is fucking spinning, okay?”
“I know it’s… unexpected. But Stevie and I—”
I hold up my hand, cutting her off. “There’s only one thing I need to know, and for once in your life, I need you to be totally fucking honest with me. Do you think you can manage that?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and nods, lowering her eyes.
“Look at me,” I say. “Please.”
Reluctantly, she does as I ask.
“I’m just gonna come out and say it.” I keep my gaze fixed on hers, hoping like hell this is the right call. “Do you… do you love me?”
Eighteen
BAZ
To my surprise, Carly doesn’t laugh or look away, doesn’t tell me how ridiculous I am, doesn’t hit me with any of her patented snark.
She stares at me in uncomfortable silence for so long, I start to worry I broke her.
I’m just about to go check for a pulse when she finally finds her voice again.
“Do you remember when you first came to live with us, and you found me crying in the basement?” she asks.
I nod, frowning at the memory. She kept asking her father to play this X-Box racing game with her, but he kept shooing her away. She missed our first “family” dinner, which was just as well—Charles was on his phone the whole time, and Janelle got piss-drunk, blathering on about how happy she was to finally have another man in the house.
I found Carly after dinner, all alone in the basement rec room, trying to figure out that stupid racing game. All along, I’d always assumed she had it made—two parents, rich, nice house, all of it. But in that moment, she looked so lost and lonely and broken, I could hardly stand it.
Despite the animosity and games between us, part of me will always see her as that sad little girl. And deep down, though I’d never admit it out loud, I’ll always ache for her. Janelle might not have subjected her daughter to the same torments, but that doesn’t mean Carly got off easy. For people who thrive on manipulation, one victim is rarely enough to satisfy their desperate urges.
