A Son of Carver (Carver High #2)

by Haven Francis

  She’s also included three crying face emojis and three different colored hearts. She’s sweet but it would have been a stretch trying to make something work with her.

  He’s fine… just some bumps and bruises

  I’ll give you a call after things are back to normal around here

  I quickly scroll through the rest just to see who they’re from. Mostly it’s the guys from the football team and the cheerleaders. I’m surprised to see one from Tatum…

  I heard about what happened to Nick and I’m only saying this because I know he’s fine but I told you. You 3 need to knock that shit off. Seriously. I’m not sending flowers but I’ll bring by some food from the restaurant next week

  I smile at my phone. Every once in a while I miss her harpy ass.

  I can’t respond to all these texts so I open up the only one from Summer knowing that if I ask her to do it for me, she will.

  I’m so glad Nick’s okay. That whole thing was crazy and scary and I didn’t like it at all. We’re gonna have a chat about your hobbies at a later date. I’m doing as much damage control as I can – thank god someone from your family is actually answering my calls and keeping me updated. I think I’ve talked to or texted just about everyone I’ve ever met to let them know he’s okay. And I’m consoling Hannah as we speak…. You’re welcome. Text or call me and let me know you’re alright. I’m worried about you.

  I appreciate it… everything. I’m home from the hospital and gonna try and get some rest but I’ll call you sometime tomorrow. I’m fine. Tonight was fucked up but I’m fine

  The beeps are already starting up again- replies from Summer, or more likely, Hannah- so I turn my phone back off and close my eyes.

  There was nothing from Presley. Why was there nothing from Presley?

  This week I tried to let go of as much of her as I could because it’s just becoming blatantly clear that I care about her too much and she only sees me as a friend. And maybe that’s all it took for her to bow out of my life. Which sucks because the damn thoughts. The thoughts about my future. The thoughts about who I want by my side. Why did that damn kiss with Summer have to be so damn awkward?

  “Nash?” someone suddenly whispers from my doorway.

  “Yeah?” I mumble.

  “Can I come in for a minute?”

  Presley. Presley’s in my house. In my room.

  “Sure,” I tell her, sitting up and moving back ‘till my back’s against the wall. She steps into my room and takes a seat at the end of my bed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Jessie and Kent brought me here with them…I hope that’s okay… I just… I didn’t want to leave and I couldn’t get back in that car and Hannah was hysterical and I was… lost… in my head and after everyone was gone it was just me and some of your crew and so… they let me come here with them. I just… I didn’t know where to go. I just wanted to be here. I’m sorry. I’m blabbering again. This is not what you need right now. I was just so worried about him because I love him and I know that doesn’t make any sense because I met him a week ago but I love him and seeing that happen to him. And you… the look on your face… the pain in your eyes. I needed to see that you were okay. I just needed to be as close to the two of you as I possibly could. So I came here. I’m sorry. I should go. I was just waiting to see if you’re okay.”

  “No,” I tell her. “Don’t go.” Her words that usually have me laughing are having the opposite effect. She’s told me more than once that just looking at me makes her emotional and that she doesn’t understand it. I didn’t either. Not until right now. Just her voice is painful. My chest feels like it’s being ripped open.

  “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

  “Yeah, Presley. He’s gonna be fine.”

  I can see her nodding her head. Her silhouette is about all I can make out in the dark.

  “And what about you?”

  “I’ll be fine too. It just shook me up. All that stuff you talk about – about how the family you had, the life you knew, is all gone- that’s how it felt for a few seconds and I can’t seem to shake the feeling.”

  “That was stupid of me… making such a big deal out of a divorce. Parents get divorced all the time. You can’t compare that to what you went through tonight.”

  “No, I can’t. My dad’s still here. My family’s still here. But for the first time I realized how temporary it all is and what that means. It makes you take stock of your life and realize the things you have… and the things that are missing.”

  She breathes deep and slow then says, “I know what you mean. I mean, I’m beginning to understand what you mean.”

  We’re silent then – lost in our own thoughts and I’m willing mine to go away. I don’t want to think anymore.

  “Nash,” she eventually whispers.

  “Yeah, Presley?” I whisper back.

  “When I’m having one of my melt downs… and I feel like I’m gonna break… the only thing that makes me feel better is when you let me be in your arms.”

  Again, my heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest. “Okay,” I whisper, not sure what else to say.

  “Can I hold you in my arms?”

  Yes. All I want is to hold you, be held by you… however you want to work it. But if you do that I might fucking break. And I don’t want to break.

  She takes my lack of response as a yes, climbing up my bed and onto my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and holding me so damn hard I can barely breathe. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating from the pressure of the pain in my chest that just got so much worse. Fuck. I wrap my arms around her, bury my head in her neck and let out a painful cry that could so easily explode into hysterics, but she fastens her body to mine; her thighs clamped tightly to my sides, her hands reaching down my back and pulling me closer, her neck tangled with mine. And it helps. Like she’s taking some of it away, it helps.

  When I feel stable enough, I ease her off of me and lay her down on my bed. I slide down next to her and wrap her back up in my arms. “Stay here with me tonight.”

  “I wouldn’t leave even if you wanted me to.”

  “I don’t want you to,” I tell her, the corner of my mouth lifting like it would totally smile if the rest of my fucked up self would let it.

  “Well good, because I’m not going to.”

  I duck my head, letting my lips brush over her hair, and pinch my eyes closed.

  “I’m here Nash. I’m not gonna go,” she reassures me.

  Which is great. But she’s talking about tonight and I can’t stop thinking about forever.

  I wake with Presley wrapped tightly in my arms – exactly how I fell asleep- and for a moment she’s the only thing in the world and I’m feeling unbelievably satisfied.

  And then I remember- my dad, the accident, the hospital.

  I let myself feel her wrapped up in me for another minute before letting her go and rolling away from her. I stare at her… in my bed. She’s beautiful. She looks peaceful. And she’s in my bed.

  I’m not looking forward to today. I’m not looking forward to having to take care of my dad and possibly failing at it. I’m not used to being the responsible one and I could totally suck at it but I have to do it.

  I’m also not looking forward to waking Presley. I don’t want to see the panic in her eyes when she realizes where she is. I don’t want to hear her excuses for why she has to go. I don’t want to watch her walk away.

  Her eyes flutter open and eventually focus on me and… she smiles. A sweet, lazy smile. “Why are you staring at me?” she whispers.

  My heart starts beating again and I tell her, “I was just trying to decide if I should wake you up or let you sleep.”

  “Oh, shit.” She’s suddenly sitting up, the panic finally surfacing on her face. “Do we need to get to the hospital? We should probably already be at the hospital. Nick’s there alone. What time is it?”

  I smile with relief.

  “Or… do you want me to go? I mean,
if you don’t want me here, I understand….”

  I reach over and run my thumb down her temple, trying to erase the anxiety spreading out from her eyes. “I want you here… at the hospital… wherever. I want you to stay with me.”

  She lets out a breath, clearly relieved. “Okay, we should go then, right?”

  I reach out and pull her back into my arms, laying back into my pillow. “In a minute.” Her arm lays lazily across my stomach and she snickers. “What?” I ask her.

  “You’re naked.”

  “I’m not naked, but yeah, I generally don’t sleep with my clothes on. Why is that funny?”

  “It’s not. I just didn’t realize you were naked.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “I don’t know, is it?” she asks, peeking up at me, hesitation in her voice.

  “Not for me.”

  “But maybe for Hannah?”

  “It’s just clothes, Presley.”

  “No. It’s just no clothes, Nash.”

  “Well then I suppose it matters what your intentions are while laying on my naked body.”

  She laughs. “To be extremely warm and comfortable I suppose.”

  “Well then it’s no big deal.”

  She looks away from me again. “Not for you, but maybe it is for me.” Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her.

  “You think Angel would mind?”

  “Probably. But we’re not doing that trial dating thing anymore.”

  “What? You broke up with him?” I asks, letting myself smile hugely because she can’t see me.

  “We shouldn’t be talking about this right now. We should be at the hospital.” She sits up and I let her because she’s right – I want to get to my dad.

  We both climb out of bed and I stretch, looking around the room wondering if I should be ashamed of what a mess it is. I look at Presley and she’s staring at me. At my body. And when her eyes meet mine she blushes before turning away from me. “Any chance I can borrow a sweatshirt? I’m completely gross… I’m sure I totally smell…”

  I snicker and walk to her, wrapping her up in my arms. “You’re not gross. Not at all. And you smell really fucking good, like always. But yeah, you can borrow a sweatshirt.” I let her go and look down at her. She’s staring up at me with her big eyes looking totally vulnerable. And I swear to god if the whole Angel thing and naked thing and whatever else she just said to me means something other than what I hope it does it just might kill me.

  I go to my drawer and pull out one of my Carver Cougars hoodies and hold it out to her. But she doesn’t take it. Instead, she pulls her big gray sweater over her head revealing a tight black tank top underneath. I stare at her soft ivory skin, her long neck, the soft dip between her clavicle bones and her small perfectly sculpted shoulders.

  She yanks the sweatshirt out of my hands and has it over her body before I can even blink. I smirk at her.

  “Don’t,” she warns, knowing I’m gonna say something about how beautiful she is.

  “You look… really cute in my clothes.” Which is true. She’s drowning in my sweatshirt – it hangs down to her knees and covers her hands. And it’s really fucking cute.

  “Would you mind putting one on yourself?” Her eyes run the length of my body, I’m assuming against her will.

  “Does it make you nervous – me without my clothes on?”

  She instantly turns defensive and scowls at me so her words surprise me. “Yes. Yes it does, does that make you happy? You’re literally…” she pauses, waving a hand in the general direction of my body, “Perfect. Which is annoying. And you know it. Which is more annoying.”

  “I’m not perfect.” I lift my arm and show her the scar on the underside where I cut my self open working on Ruby. “See.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s great Nash. Can we go now?”

  I laugh. “Sure. Can I get dressed first?”

  “Ugh. I’ll be out… there,” she mumbles, walking around me and out my door.

  I let myself enjoy that little encounter for a minute before throwing my clothes on and grabbing my phone. After cleaning up in the bathroom, I head out to the living room where Nate is sitting at the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room and Presley’s on the other side looking annoyed and… busy.

  I take a seat by Nate as Presley puts bread in the toaster. “What are you doing?”

  She turns around and glares at my brother. “Nate is hung over.”

  “Jesus… sorry,” he mutters, intimidated by her glare in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen.

  She turns back around and grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water, then digs around in her bag and pulls out a packet, opens it and drops a white tab into the water. She shoves the fizzing drink at my brother and says, “Drink this.”

  He doesn’t even ask what it is, just chokes it down, slamming it back on the counter when he’s done. “Damn, that was gross.”

  “It’s just Alka-Seltzer you baby.”

  “Whatever,” he mumbles and I laugh at this new submissive version of him that I’ve never seen. “Shut up, Nash,” he tells me.

  “I didn’t say anything,” I tell him, sounding highly amused.

  The toast pops, she grabs it, slathers butter on it and sets it on a plate before sliding it in front of him. He looks up at her. She stands with her little fists on her hips and pops her chin at him.

  He mutters incoherently but starts eating the toast.

  “You can’t do this when he comes home, you know,” she scolds him. “He doesn’t need to be nursing his twenty-one year-old’s hangovers. In fact, you might even have to do some shit for him.”

  I’m expecting the drama queen speech that I got but he just says, “Jesus, Presley. I know, okay. Give me a damn break. He wasn’t even here last night and what do you expect me to do after the night we had?”

  “I don’t know… maybe realize that you have a big day ahead of you and that you should probably rest so you’re prepared to take care of your dad?”

  “Not all of us have hot girls waiting to put us to bed when we get home.”

  “Don’t you even start with me, asshole. I didn’t put anyone to bed. Some people in this house are grown ass men who don’t need anyone telling them what they should do or need assistance doing it. Maybe you should start taking notes and figure out how to be a man yourself.”

  Damn, does she know how to put him in his place. He doesn’t even have anything to say to that.

  When he’s finished she takes his plate and tells him, “Get in the shower but make it quick. We should have already been there.”

  He gripes under his breath, but stands and heads to the bathroom.

  Presley starts the water in the sink and digs the soap out from the cabinet underneath it, all the while shaking her head at whatever thoughts are running through her brain. She starts scrubbing the dishes so I go to her, grabbing a rag on my way. She washes and I dry in silence for a minute before she finally starts talking. “You have no food in this house.”

  “There’s some,” I tell her. Pretty sure we have a few frozen pizzas and some cereal.

  “Any idea what time they’re letting him come home?”

  “They said twenty four hours if there’s no signs that his concussion needs to be monitored, so hopefully tonight.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Do you want to stay with him today?”

  “If he wants me there but based on last night I think he’s looking at this like a vacation away from us.” I laugh, but she’s so focused she doesn’t even smile.

  “Either way I’ll go to the grocery store. He’s probably gonna have prescriptions he needs filled too but I don’t know if they’ll let me pick them up. And I have to get this place cleaned up… I’m guessing there’s some laundry that needs to be done too… the bedding could probably use a wash… should I go to Redbox… or does he like to read? Probably not…maybe some car magazines?” She’s washing so frantically now, I can’t
keep up with her. I grab the plate out of her hand and set it down before turning her towards me.

  “Hey,” I say, waiting for her to look at me. “We’ve got this. We’re gonna be fine. You don’t have to take care of us.”

  Tears are hedging in her eyes and she looks completely terrified. “I know. I know you don’t need me, you don’t need my help, the three of you probably just want to be left alone, but I want to help, I need to help him, I just…”

  The tears fall from her eyes then and she covers them with her hands and shakes her head.

  I hold her and tell her, “If it helps, if it makes you feel better, if this is what’s gonna help you feel like you have some control over what happened, of how he’s doing, then yeah, I would totally appreciate your help. And I know it would lift his spirits having you around. But if you want, you can just sit with him and eat popcorn or whatever the two of you do, he’ll want you here either way. You can stay with him as long as you want.”

  She keeps her head buried against my chest but nods with understanding. I let her go and she turns back to her dishes.

  We’re just finishing up as Nate comes walking into the living room – all fresh and clean.

  “Feeling better?” she asks him, her voice condescending, no hint of the vulnerable girl she was a few minutes ago. Because that’s my Presley. The one who feels safe enough to break. And the one who was strong enough to watch me break too.

  15

  It was such a relief seeing Nick. Even though everyone told me he was okay, I don’t think I really believed it until I was actually with him, looking at his smile and his bright eyes and feeling his good arm slapping my back as I hugged him.

  In that moment, a huge chunk of my anxiety fell off of me which is a relief because every moment leading up to that one felt like one in which I could break. Which, I knew was stupid and selfish.

  He’s not my dad, he’s not my best friend, I didn’t grow up with him. I was the only one in that pole barn last night who didn’t have some story to tell about him.

  But when he hugged me he called me his girl and told me he had been waiting to see me and made me promise I’d be at his home when he got there. So at least it’s not one sided. At least he cares about me even if it doesn’t necessarily make sense, just like I care about him.