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“Sweetheart.” Nathan shifts Carter in his arms, gently shaking him to try and pull him from the nightmare. This needs to end now. The boy has suffered in his own mind long enough. “Sweetheart, wake up now. Come back to sir. Wake up.”
Carter buries his face in Nathan’s neck and sobs harder, still apologizing.
And then…
Then he says something else.
Something that stops Nathan dead in his tracks.
“I’m sorry I picked him, Casey. I’m sorry I picked sir over you…”
Nathan is still trying to process what the fuck that could possibly mean when the boy finally goes quiet, his breathing evening out, his crying coming to an end. He relaxes into Nathan’s hold as he begins to sleep peacefully.
It takes everything in Nathan to keep from waking Carter up. He wants to demand Carter tell him what the dream was about. He wants to know who Casey is. Who Elliot is. He wants to know what the fuck Carter meant when he apologized for picking Nathan over Casey. But all of that is selfish. It’s none of his business. He’s taken enough from Carter. He doesn’t need to invade the privacy of his dreams, too. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to steal whatever peaceful sleep he manages to get.
Nathan carefully rolls Carter onto his back, settling the boy among the pillows, putting his moose in his hand, and pulling the blankets up to tuck him in. He presses a soft kiss to his forehead, whispering an apology.
Unable to stand another minute in the room, Nathan shoves out of bed and grabs a random shirt from his dresser before leaving. He doesn’t care that he gets a ton of strange looks from his men. He doesn’t care that even a few house slaves double-take at him. He doesn’t care that he’s fucking bare foot in sweatpants and a cotton t-shirt walking through a house he usually never sets foot in except when he’s in one of Nathan’s suits of armor. All he cares about is the bottle of whiskey he knows is in a drawer in his office, and he wants it.
He makes it there without incident, heading to the compound’s gym next. He’s already taking swigs of the alcohol as he walks. Each one burns away some of the ache in his chest that’s developed ever since he first set eyes on Carter Beckett.
Two of his men are in the gym when he enters, one spotting the other as they lift weights. Both pause when they see him, holding perfectly still, staring at him like he’s an anomaly. Nathan usually works out early in the morning every day, at least before Carter was here, and it was made clear that he doesn’t like working out with others, so everyone always avoided the gym at that time of day. Now these men clearly don’t know what to do with the fact that Nathan is suddenly here in the afternoon.
Nathan takes another gulp of whiskey, raising an eyebrow at the idiots. “Well? Get the fuck out.”
They scramble, nearly tripping to get away from him fast enough.
After setting the speaker system to a playlist full of music angry enough to match his own raging emotions, Nathan sets his bottle down on the sparring mat beside a heavy bag. He should wrap his hands, but he won’t. He deserves the pain of the leather scraping his knuckles raw and the throb of his knuckles hitting the bag of sand. Nathan needs to bruise and bleed, just like Carter.
He pounds his fists into the bag over and over, trying to escape Carter. Trying to escape the feelings he’s developing for the sweet boy, to escape the overwhelming amount ofTravisCarter always manages to coax out of him no matter how hard Nathan tries to stay in control.
But the boy haunts him.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I picked him, Casey.
I’m sorry I picked sir over you…
Nathan doesn’t even realize the music has been turned low until he stops to take a swig of whiskey. He turns, expecting to find some idiot he can take his anger out on. Turns out it’s worse.
Benny.
“I don’t want to talk,” he growls.
“Too bad.” Benny crosses his arms and frowns at him. He reminds Nathan of an angry old man. Nathan snorts at the thought, almost asking Benny if he’s in trouble for walking on his lawn. Benny arches an eyebrow at him. “What’s so funny?”
Nathan laughs harder, shaking his head. “My fucking life.”
Benny frowns. “Nate-”
“Have you ever seen Harry Potter?”
Clearly confused, it takes Benny a moment to respond.
Nathan uses the opportunity to drink more whiskey.
