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At some point, Carter tells Maison he’s letting him go, turning off his repeated apologies so we can cry together in peace, curled up on the floor of the closet, arms around each other.
It takes a while for our sobs to calm into shaky breaths and hiccups, but we eventually manage it. We loosen our grips on each other but don’t separate. Carter strokes a hand along my back, tucking his head against my chest. “I’m so sorry for talking to you at that party, Case. I wasn’t thinking. It just… came out. And I had no fucking idea that would happen. What he did to you - what they all did to you - it - it just…”
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but… it wasn’t your fault.”
“Was he always like that? Your owner, I mean. DuGray. Was it always like that for you, or was that just a really bad night?”
My stomach twists, bile burning inside of it and threatening to crawl up my throat. “I don’t want to talk about him. Not - not right now. Please?”
“Yeah. Of course.” He gives me a little squeeze. “How about fun stuff instead?”
I laugh shakily. “Fun stuff. I forgot that existed.”
“Me too. Wanna try though?”
“Sure.”
We lay there in awkward silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter at the same time. I wipe tears from my face, pulling away from him a little so I can see him doing the same.
“I’m coming up blank,” I admit, still laughing a little even though it’s not that funny. “Maybe you go first?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Um…” He looks over at the clothes hanging along the wall of the closet, all dark colors and expensive fabrics. His lips quirk. “My high school prom, I wore my brother’s suit to save some money. I was drowning in it. The poor girl I brought as a date was so upset when I showed up, and then when we did the stupid walk thing where the audience watches all the couples walk, I tripped on the pants and took down my date and two other couples. One of the girls got a bloody nose.”
I bark a laugh, picturing a younger Carter in floppy clothes, some girl covered in blood like Carrie at the prom.
“Shut up!” he says, though he’s laughing too. “Let me guess, you were fucking prom king or something, weren’t you?”
“No.” I shoot him a glare, but we both just end up laughing again. It’s such a relief that it’s hard to stop now that we’ve started. Everything is funny.
Everything is fucking beautiful.
He returns my glare despite his continued laughter. “I don’t believe you.”
“I wasn’t!” I snort. “I was runner-up. My best friend won it.”
“Runner-up.” He dramatically rolls his eyes, groaning. “Oh, the horror!”
“Were you a total geek in high school?”
“I was not a geek,” he corrects haughtily. “I was… bookish.”
“Oh. I stand corrected.”
He shoves at my shoulder, but gently. Probably because the thing is still covered in a massive green-ish bruise.
“Okay, your turn for an embarrassing story. This feels very one-sided right now,” Carter fake grumbles. “I feel very judged.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s see. Oh. My first high school swim meet. Two words.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Speedo slip.”
He bursts out laughing again.
We keep trading stories, keeping them lighthearted and usually embarrassing. At some point we end up with Carter sitting against the dresser, one knee drawn up, the other leg straight out to press against my arm where I’m currently sprawled on the floor with my feet kicked up against the wall. We laugh so hard sometimes, we end up crying again. The good kind of crying.
“Uh… hello?”
Despite knowing logically that I’m safe now, I still startle at the sound of Carter’s mast - Nathan’s - voice. My body moves without my permission until I’m kneeling in the default position, my ears buzzing with panic so loud I can’t hear anything they say. I feel unbelievably stupid when Carter nudges me to get me to relax, my face burning with humiliation as I realize my mistake.
“You alright, Case?” Jake asks.
