Page 50 of Carte

“I know how that feels. I’ve seen it firsthand. Hell, we all did. Seeing mom like that, it broke me, Max. And with everything that happened the last few years, I know I’m not strong enough to go through something like that. Not again. Not like you, Rory and Chace are. I don’t have it in me.” But it would hurt so much more with Harley. She was becoming the very air I breathed. I couldn’t give in only to have it lost in a blink of an eye.

No, this was better. No matter if it was tearing my insides, this was safer. For both of us.

Max gripped the back of my neck, bringing my forehead to his. “I know how much it hurts. I remember, brother. And I know the fear that lives inside you. I feel it every damned day when I watch Sky walk out of our house. But, it’s worth it. It’s worth-”

I pulled away from his grasp. “Don’t”

“You have to let it all out. You have to talk about it. About Dad. I see you pulling away from us, more and more each day. You’re breaking the bonds with your family, and if you don’t talk about it, you'll be left all alone in the shadows. We won’t be able to reach you no matter what we do.” His tone had a pleading note to it but I was too far gone to grant his plea.

The images started playing on a loop in my mind.

Harley in bed, in my home sleeping.

Rory’s tear streaked face in the hospital room.

Jason’s ravaged one as he begged to be let in and be with Rory.

My mom kneeling in front of the two officers begging for the words that would never come.

Dad saying goodbye and going to work.

My breath became ragged, I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs.

“Fuck,” I wheezed bending down pressing my palms to my knees.

“Carter,” Max called but it was like he was calling from a distance. My vision blurred. I clawed at my neck, but nothing helped, I couldn’t get my lungs to work. I couldn’t breathe.

Hands gripped the sides of my neck and tilted my head up, “Carter. Hey, breathe.”

I could barely make out Max through my blurred vision.

I tried to focus on his hands on my skin, tried to feel the heat of them.

His fingers flexed into my skin in a rhythm I could follow.

“Take a breath,” he said.

I closed my eyes and inhaled.

Then let it out slowly.

The air stung my windpipe, but it got to my lungs.

After the third inhale it got marginally better and I opened my eyes.

Max looked at me, concern written all over him.

“I’m fine,” I pushed at his hands.

Max’s eyes flashed and turned darker.

“You’re not. You’re closing yourself in. You need to talk to someone.”

“I’ll be okay. And I don’t need to talk.” I walked two steps away from him. I needed space. I needed to breathe.

Max frowned, “Either you get your shit together, and I don’t care who with, or I’m sicking Rory on your ass.”

I scowled, “There’s no need to do that.”