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Especially with him leaving now. Carter doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Travis to know that’s what he means.
Travis nods in understanding, sort of jealous he doesn’t have a moose of his own. “Did Ace give you a phone?”
“Yeah. He says it’s secure. That - uh - that I can talk to you with it. Or, I mean, talk to - to anyone with it.”
“You can.” Travis forces a smile. “I won’t reach out first. I’ll respect however much space you want, but I’m here, if you ever want to talk. And I’m only an hour away, if you ever need anything.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Carter steps back, wiping his face. He’s holding the moose tight to his chest.
Don’t let him leave, a voice screams in Travis’s head. Don’t let him fucking leave.
“You should go,” Travis says, his voice suddenly raw. “The others are waiting.”
He holds his breath and waits to see if maybe Carter will tell him this whole thing is fucking ridiculous. Maybe Carter will tell him that he’s changed his mind and has decided to stay. Maybe Carter will ask for one last time, putting off the trip until tomorrow.
Carter breaks his heart all over again when he nods and says instead, “Goodbye, Travis.”
Carter and Maison are going to drive in one vehicle, Jake and Casey in the other - a sacrifice Carter is willing to make because Casey asked if he could have some alone time with Jake. Then Jake and Maison will take one vehicle back to the safehouse while the other stays behind for Carter and Casey to use whenever necessary.
The drive is awkwardly silent and incredibly tense for the first 25 minutes.
Just as they merge onto the freeway, Maison shifts in his seat and says, “I’m very proud of you.”
Carter’s throat threatens to close right up. All he manages is a choked, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Maison glances over at him for just a second before focusing back on the road. “This was a good decision, I think. It’ll be good for you to get some space from everything.”
A thought occurs to Carter then, coated in anger and hate. “Wait - are you who told him to do it?”
“Told who to do what?”
“Travis. Did you tell him to let me go? To send me off or whatever? To tell me to - to be free?”
Maison’s confusion lasts another second or two before his expression blooms into understanding. He shakes his head slowly. “I should’ve known that’d be why you’re leaving. No, little brother, I didn’t tell him to do that. But I’m very glad he did.”
His anger fades, but it’s replaced with something far worse. Grief.
“He’s convinced I’m not free yet. That I’m still trapped here. Or there, I guess. At the safehouse. With him.”
“So, you chose to leave.”
“Yes,” Carter whispers, his throat tight, his voice catching on the end of the word.
“To prove him wrong.”
“I-” Carter pauses, running his fingers through his hair. Travis is right. He needs a cut. “Maybe. At first. But I think - I think it’s more about proving to myself that I’m right. Probably not much of a difference, but…”
“It is,” Maison says. “A difference, I mean. A big one. And I’m still proud of you. No matter where this new journey takes you. If you love it, or hate it and want to come back, or want to do something else entirely - all of it is something to be proud of, Carter. Hell, every time you wake up in the morning is something to be proud of.”
Carter rests his forehead against the window, peering at the world through the glass. He tries not to remember the times he did this in the bathroom window at the compound, wishing he could be free. He had no idea freedom would be this hard.
The miles go by once more in silence.
It isn’t until Maison parks the car in front of their apartment that he speaks again.
“Listen, Carter…” Maison sighs heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I need to apologize.”
Carter groans, waving a hand toward his brother. “Please don’t. You already have. A lot. It’s - just - enough.”
