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Carter falls asleep promising himself one last time.
He has no idea that this time, it really is.
It isn’t until the morning when he wakes up alone and goes to the kitchen to fulfill his promise to eat that he finds out.
It’s Maison who tells him, his brother grimacing when he spots Carter before saying in a low, grumbly voice, “Just so you’re aware, Travis left about an hour ago.”
Carter nearly drops the coffee pot in his hand. He carefully sets it down. “L-left? To where?”
"To follow a lead on Mica."
"When will he be back?"
Maison shrugs, clearly uncomfortable. "No idea. But I know you two have been doing… something still, so I figured I should tell you."
“Right. Of course. Thanks.” Carter rubs at the back of his neck, a million thoughts and worries running through his head. He can feel panic bubbling at the edges. When he tries to breathe, his lungs don't cooperate.
A hand gently touches his shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut, torn between telling his brother to fuck off and accepting the much-needed comfort. He does neither, staying stock still under the touch.
"I'm sure he'll be fine, baby brother."
Will he, though?
Carter can't stop picturing that angry slash that's barely healed on his side. It could have been so much worse.
Why do things always seem to be just a breath away from so much worse?
"I'm sorry," Carter whispers. He keeps his eyes shut as a wave of shame wars with his anxiety. "The other night – I can’t believe I said… I didn’t mean it, Mais. I – I could never mean it…”
"I know. It's okay, bud. I know."
Carter looks at him then, so impossibly angry, yet worried at the same time. What is it with the men in his life always making him so fucking angry and worried?
"Are you okay?" He eyes Maison like he can see through his sweatshirt and jeans for the damage. Though, the worst damage is probably to his mind. Carter knows that from experience. "I mean, I know you're probably not okay. But are you…"
He can't think of a word. Is there one?
Maison smiles softly at him. "I'm just fine, kid. It wasn't a fucking walk in the park, but I had years to prepare for it. Dr. Singh helped before I left. He helped me frame it in my head. I don't know how to explain it really, but it was my job. I was doing a job. Like a sex worker who has to fuck a group of assholes but needs the cash so does it anyway." He shrugs, but his gaze is too intense for him to feel anything casual about it. "I didn't need cash, but I needed you. That in mind, it was manageable."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Maison chuckles, but it's an angry sort of laugh. "Hell, the worst of what happened to me was being on the stage and watching those men with you."
Carter forces a shrug. "Same thing for me. Like a job, I guess. It was a lot easier once I knew the truth. I mean, with strangers, at least."
"Not with Travis?" Maison asks carefully, his head tilting.
"No." Carter swallows. It's hard to do, though. His throat feels too tight. "Not with Travis."
Emotions flicker in Maison's eyes before he says, "Carter, we had to-"
"Don't," Carter begs. "Please. I don't want to hear it. Not - not now."
"Yeah. Okay. Sure." Maison steps back, hands up like he's surrendering. "Enjoy your coffee."
Carter had forgotten he even wanted coffee. He turns back to the maker, staring at the pot and empty mug. A shudder runs through him and he blurts, "Maison?"
“Yeah?”
