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“Thanks,” I said, wishing I felt more relief. But, really, I hated doing this alone. I hated that Carson hadn’t shown. He was probably at the beach right now, flirting with Olivia.
“And Mia?”
I startled, thinking he had already hung up. “Yeah?”
“I don’t care if he is my brother, I’m kicking his a—”
“Thanks, Ethan,” I said, cutting him off.
I hung up and waited as the text came through. Once I punched in the code to the keypad on the side door, I went inside and surveyed the living room. All the boxes Carson and I had packed together were still scattered throughout.
I made my way toward one and traced my finger over Carson’s sloppy handwriting, and it all hit me. My parents. Carson. Even my confrontation with Olivia stirred a painful ache i
nside my chest I couldn’t squelch, and the tears I had suppressed all day rose to the surface. Being dateless for the Snowflake Ball was the least of my worries.
I crouched in front of the boxes labeled “Adams Family” and reached for the first one as a tear slid down my cheek. Wiping it away, I stood, balancing the heavy box in front of me when the front door slammed.
I turned around, expecting to see Ethan. He had come after all.
“That was fast. . .” My words trailed off, lost in the lump in my throat. Because it wasn’t Ethan. It was Carson.
His dark hair was more rumpled than usual, and his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold. He moved closer, coming to stand in front of me. Something about the way he held himself, the way he couldn’t seem to meet my eyes told me he was nervous.
He reached up and tugged on the drawstrings of his hoodie, looking more adorable than was fair.
“You came,” I said.
“Here, let me get that.” He reached for the box, then set it on the ground next to him. Once he stood back up, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his Wild Cat joggers and stared at me. “Were you crying?” he asked, his voice gruff as he reached out and brushed a thumb over my damp cheek.
“You didn’t show yesterday with Mrs. Parks, then today at Sweet Water Market—”
“I know. I’m sorry, but I. . .” He paused, glancing to the side as if working something out in his head before turning his blue eyes back to mine. “Do you like my brother, Mia?”
“Of course I like your brother.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Do you like him like him?”
“What? No.” I crossed my arms over my chest, a wave of irritation flushing my face.
“Because I thought you and me. . .” He huffed like speaking was difficult, then growled and raked his hands through his hair, then muttered, “Why is this so hard?”
The heat of my anger thawed as I took in his expression. He seemed almost desperate when he asked, “Then why’d you kiss him?”
I frowned. “Why’d I. . .” It took me a second to understand. “What?” I whispered, and all the air rushed from my lungs. It all made sense. He saw us—the thudding noise outside of Ethan’s room must’ve been him. I could’ve sworn I had seen someone.
“You kissed him. I saw you guys,” he said, confirming my worst fears. “I came to see you, and I went to his room to see if you wanted to hang out, and I saw you kissing.”
My palms dampened and sweat pricked my back. Of course Carson chose that exact moment—a moment that lasted two seconds—to peek inside Ethan’s room. So, this is why he didn’t show yesterday or this morning. This is why he gave me the cold shoulder and answered none of my calls.
I would’ve done the same.
How did I explain this without sounding like a total liar?
Stepping forward, I pleaded, “I realize how bad that must’ve looked, but—”
“Do you?” he snapped.
I dropped my arms, surprised by his tone and the anger churning in his eyes. He could at least let me explain. And then I remembered what Olivia told me.
