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Carter’s fingers twitch at his sides as he stares at the words. It feels like a lie not to tell Casey that he's already handled this goal. He's already had sex post-operation. But he remembers how Casey had looked and sounded when they talked about it in the pool. Telling him now feels like bragging.
He finally gets the milk out, his mind racing as he fixes himself some cereal and pours some coffee into a mug. When he sits across from his best friend at the breakfast table, the choice is taken out of his hands. "Are you mad at me for adding it?"
“What? No. Of course not. It’s not that.”
“Then why are you all quiet now?” Casey looks at him, his eyes glossy with tears. “Please don’t be mad at me, Carter. Please.”
Carter sinks lower in his seat, guilt eating its way through him as he realizes he's going to have to tell the truth to fix this. "I… had sex. With Travis. Before coming here. After - after you had asked me about it in the pool room. I guess I felt guilty, so I didn't tell you, but now it's part of Operation Freedom and… yeah."
“Oh.” Casey runs a finger along the rim of his coffee mug, avoiding looking at him. “And it – uh – it went well?”
“Um… yeah. I guess.”
“Oh,” he says again. Then, "Maybe you should try with a stranger now. I mean, you and Travis aren't together anymore, right? You need to see if you can be with someone like that. Someone… else?”
It’s Carter’s turn to say, “Oh,” this time.
Casey has a point.
“Sure,” Carter finds himself saying. “Yeah.”
“Then we’ll keep it on the list?” Casey asks.
“Yeah. We’ll… keep it.”
“Okay.”
“Not yet, though,” Carter says quickly, panic already tightening his chest. “I’m not ready for that.”
Casey nods in understanding. “We’ll start with textbooks and job searching then.”
By that afternoon, Carter has textbooks and a job.
"It's not much," Carter says into the phone, his heart racing despite his casual tone. "Just a bartending gig at a bar and grill near campus. It's only a block from the apartment. I got to chat with some of the staff and they said it's actually a great gig. Said the manager is nice and the bouncer on weekends doesn't put up with any bullshit. Tips are supposedly good, too."
Maison sounds happy and proud when he responds. "That's awesome, kid. Wow. You're moving faster than I thought. It's good, though. Really. Can I come by sometime, once you're in your groove? Get a beer served to me by my little bro?"
Carter laughs and rolls his eyes. "Sure. You could bring-" and the laughter dies in his voice as he remembers why bringing Travis wouldn't be a good idea. Not until Carter is confident that one look at the man wouldn't send him running right back to him. "-J-Jake. You could bring Jake. Or - um - or one of the survivors, if they wanted a night out. Or – uh – whoever.”
Don't think about him, Carter. Don't think about him. You've been doing so fucking good today not thinking about him.
"Travis would probably love to see it," Maison says softly.
Fuck. There goes that…
"Yeah?" Carter forces a casual tone. He even shrugs, though Maison can't see it. “He hasn’t talked to me at all…”
"I think he's trying to respect your space. Give you time or whatever."
"Yeah, he said that before I left. Kind of stupid, if you ask me. It was his idea for me to go."
Maison sighs. "Yeah, and he's regretting it, trust me."
Carter's chest goes tight, but before he can ask what his brother means, Maison says, "I have to go. Ace actually has an update on Elliot's case. I'll keep you posted, okay?"
"Oh. Yeah. Okay."
"I'm proud of you, little brother."
