I’m about to press it when my door opens, and the first thing I see is tow-headed curls spiraling out of a beaming face.
Lily shrieks and claps at the sight of me, and is soon followed by Carter, who’s holding her.
“Oh, Lil,” I say, and I can’t stop the tears in my voice. “Daddy’s so happy to see you.”
“She’s all right,” Carter says as she steps up to the side of my bed. “Not even a bandage. Just a small bruise on the back of her head.”
“Thank you.” I spare a longing look at Carter before centering on Lily. “Can I hold her?”
“I don’t know…”
I’m already pressing the up arrow to raise the headboard of my bed. “Please, Carter.”
I don’t think I’ve ever begged anyone for anything. But here and now, I’m willing to cry if it means holding my baby.
After some thought, Carter nods. She gently settles Lily against my chest. Lily goes straight for my mouth, pinching my lower lip between her fingers.
“Ow,” I say, but it’s muffled.
“She missed you.” Carter’s smile is genuine, but it’s only directed at Lily.
“I missed her. I’m so, so glad she’s okay. You taking her home?”
Carter nods. “Astor’s going to take us, settle us back into your place. But I’ll be back with her in a few hours. Give you some rest.”
“Carter, I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t.” Carter shakes her head. “It’s not necessary.”
“It is. All of it. Astor told me…well, she told me she blew up my spot again with you, and I’d like to explain my side of things.”
“About Paige?”
I’m alert enough to realize she’s playing dumb, but what I don’t know is why. “Yeah, about Paige.”
“Like I said, unnecessary.” Carter’s tone is clipped. “The doctors explained you’ll be here a few days at least, maybe a week. I want you to know Lily’s in good hands, and I’ll bring her to see you whenever you want.”
I gently pull Lily’s hands away from my mouth so I can speak. “Carter, I know you will. I never questioned Lily’s safety while I’m in here. Or that I wouldn’t get to see her.”
Carter dares to meet my eyes before she skirts away again. “From here on out, everything I do, it will be for Lily.”
I draw my brows down. “Carter…”
“There are two weeks left until I go back to Florida. I’ll finish up, start packing up my paintings, boxing up my stuff. By the time you get back to your place, I’ll book a hotel.”
There’s a sinking feeling completely unrelated to my damaged chest. “Carter, I don’t want you to do that.”
“What we’ve been doing—aside from Lily, I mean—it was inappropriate.”
I keep my voice low, unthreatening. “I wouldn’t call what we shared inappropriate.”
“Don’t argue with me on this. We’re going to be professional from this point on. I’ll communicate with you about Lily, always. Especially while you’re here, but that’s all. Okay? You and I—well, there is no you and I. I want to go back to the beginning, how it was when we first met.”
I laugh, but it comes out as a wheeze. “I sure as hell don’t want that.”
“You don’t get a choice this time.” She’s dead serious. “I’m not saying I’ll hate you again, but I…” She draws in a deep breath. “I don’t want to like you anymore, either.”
I’m stuck in this bed, pretty much immobile, and I’m so fucking aware of it. I’m desperate to Hulk out and throw this bed at the wall in pure, utter frustration. Instead, I’m forced into a wimpy, wheeze-filled, “How can you say that? After what we—”
“We only have one thing in common. Her.” Carter reaches for Lily, who goes into her arms happily and willingly, without one look back at dad. “And in fourteen days, it won’t even be that. Say ‘bye, Lily. You’ll see Daddy again soon.”
“Adadadadada.” Lily shoves all her fingers of one hand into her mouth and chews, staring doe-eyed at me.
“Carter, don’t go. Talk to me,” I say.
“That’s the problem,” she responds, but she’s focused on adjusting Lily’s shirt. It doesn’t need adjusting. “You haven’t given me the same courtesy. Good-bye, Locke.”
“Carter, stop. Don’t leave.”
“I’ll be back with her in a few hours.”
Never, in my entire life, have I felt so useless, so worthless, to be lying prone in this bed, stuck to wires and tubing. “You can’t go like this.”
“This isn’t a punishment, Locke. I’m not keeping Lily from you, but she needs to go home, be in a familiar place for a while—and that’s your place. She’s yours, always. So, let us leave.”
I can’t find anything else to say. Nothing in Carter’s expression indicates that even if I discover the secret to her universe or a meaningful sentence to make her falter, she’ll still go. Carter doesn’t have to utter the words, but I understand them fully.
I’m done with you, Locke.
And I’ve never been more terrified to lose.
“I’ll see you later,” she says, and I don’t stop her. Lily waves from her perch in Carter’s arms, peeking over her shoulder as they leave.
One breath. Hitch. Two breaths. Hitch. Every motion rips at my lung tissue. Inhaling and exhaling pull any energy I have left into enduring the pain.
But I find enough to throw my legs over. I muster the rest to stand on one leg. And I hook the mattress and heave, roaring until I pass out, lights flashing and heart monitor screaming.
The bed doesn’t move an inch.
All I do is crumple to the ground.
34
Carter
I finally have the answer.
I have no pieces of my heart left.
Leaving Locke’s hospital room, knowing he couldn’t follow because he was too weak to walk, too tied down with tubes and IVs to fight, was probably the worst thing I’ve done.
I don’t walk away from people who are hurting, especially those I love.
Yet, staying—remaining—would only cause further damage.
We were both the walking wounded, finding solace in each other’s loneliness and pain. That isn’t how a relationship should start, nor could it survive.
Locke deserves his secrets; he’s entitled to protect his past, but when it comes to being with someone, to me choosing a person to be with for the rest of my life, I need to give all of myself. And he, whoever he is, needs to do the same in return.
I’ve learned so much about Locke—more in the last hour with Astor than within almost three weeks of living with him.
Locke lost his mother to cancer.
He hates hospital beds, same as I do.
He has a father he keeps at a distance.
He has an inheritance. A trust, with a lot of money that he’ll gain access to in six years.
He slept with Paige, as a bet, for a thousand dollars.
I wonder if Locke collected his money a few minutes after fucking Paige, or if he waited until the morning.
I’m silent on the car ride back to Locke’s place. Astor is in the passenger seat of the hired car and Lily’s been lulled to sleep in her car seat beside me.
And I can’t stop thinking about Locke and Paige.
When Locke and I…when we slept together, it was easy for me to forget about his past with Paige. Yes, Lily exists because of it, but I could categorize the two—Lily on one side, Paige and Locke having sex on the other. I could delete that column and still have Lily.
Because, I rationalized, Paige never loved Locke. And Locke, obviously, did not love Paige. That’s enough, isn’t it? To then sleep with the person your best friend slept with, too?
I groan, cover my face with my hands and shake my head back and forth.
I wish I asked more of Paige when she told me she was pregnant. I wish I’d prodded for more information when she told me the father was Lachlan Hayes.
I wish I kept my pants on.
&
nbsp; Because now…
I look at Lily, her lashes dark tattoos against her chubby, rosy cheeks.
Because now I’m deeply involved, and not simply because of this child.
I think I’m in love with Locke.
Which is why, in no uncertain terms, I told him we couldn’t be together.
Too much damage. Too much hurt.
Way too much unknown.
I choose to be alone instead of vulnerable to a man who only wants to give the barest amount of himself.
I’m fucked up, too, but I was willing to share it all, with him. With Locke. I shared so much of myself already. I shared this little girl. I have a family that’s all but disowned me because I didn’t follow their path. I’ve lost my only, closest friend, forever. I have to give up a child I care for as if she were my own. I want her to be my own.
On a sigh, I stare out the window as we crest over the Williamsburg Bridge, the red-and-gold sky a backdrop to Manhattan’s glittering sunrise-soaked city. My hand rests lightly on Lily’s rising and falling chest. Too soon, my decision has to become real.
I have to leave them both.
35
Carter
The next few days pass by routinely.
Locke’s not here, so Lily and I rule the apartment, but despite all the games, the baby destruction and literal spilled milk and the music I play to fill the silence, this place is empty.
I ignore the quaking in my stomach every time Lily talks herself awake in the mornings, and I roll over on the futon and get her. I haven’t taken up residence in Locke’s bed while he’s gone. The last time I was there, he was in it with me.
We visit Locke twice a day, scheduled around Lily’s naps, and each time, while he lights up for his daughter, I feel a little glitter is lost between us. His bright tone with Lily and flat questions to me tell me enough to understand he’s come to terms with my instructions to keep each other at a distance. I follow suit, but it doesn’t feel good. We’re worse than we were when I first met him—when we were all despicable passion and arguments and insults. Now, we’re simply…calm waters. No ripples, no warming temperatures, just an abyss with no movement.
In about half an hour, Lily and I have to be off for our second daily visit with Locke. All these car trips are eating into my cash, and I wish I could sell more paintings. Astor has offered to pay, but whether it’s pride or stubbornness or both, I don’t accept it. I’ll be back to my old job soon, saving and living and generally toiling through my days, so contributing to Lily’s happiness is the best way to spend my money anyway.
A knock at the door lifts my head up from where I’m scrounging through the couch cushions for Lily’s favorite toy, her rabbit. That sketchy thing has been one of the only sources of comfort for her and I can’t find it anywhere. I’ve settled her temporarily by opening the box of jumbo Legos Locke bought her— and stepping on one for the first time last night. Holy ouch.
“Who is it?” I ask, not bothering to stand.
Lily’s whispering something likely demonic as she builds a multicolored skyscraper with mismatched cubes.
Instead of answering, there’s another knock.
“I’m not answering until you tell me who you are!” I call back. I’ve lived in Brooklyn for almost a month. I know damn well not to open the door to an unknown caller.
“Way to ruin the surprise, you jerk!”
I pause in adding to Lily’s stack. “Sophie?”
“Yes! Let me in!”
I fly to my feet and unlock the deadbolt. When I see my string bean friend, her blonde curls twisting everywhere and her black-rimmed glasses flashing with my reflection, I squeal and throw myself into her arms. “Sophie!”
“Ack!” She falls back with my weight, but her arms come around.
“You’re here?” I pull away so I can see her better. “How are you here?”
“Because I’m your friend,” she says as if it’s that simple. “And the way you’ve sounded on the phone…I hate to say it’s been like you’re going to a funeral, because of Paige and all, but it’s honestly how you sound. Dead inside. And I only just got you crawling out of the first grave.”
Sophie, in all her frankness, has me set to cry again. I pull her into another hug. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
Lily, finally drawing her attention away from toppling over every stack I’ve crafted for her screams gets up on her feet, and wanders to Sophie.
“Oh-em-gee, she walks!” Sophie claps, begging Lily to come closer and coming down to her level. “Hi, baby! Or should I say, small lady, since you’re sashaying now!”
Lily babbles and tips over into Sophie’s arms. Sophie stands and lifts Lily over her head.
“Come in, come in,” I usher Sophie inside, and only now notice that all she has with her is an unbuttoned plaid shirt, a white tee, and black jeans. “Where’s your stuff?”
“Downstairs. It’s a lot to lug up.” Sophie sets Lily down.
“How long are you planning on staying for?” I ask.
“A few days, or however long you need me.” Sophie finds my hand and squeezes. “I didn’t want to impose, but I also couldn’t leave you here, alone. Especially when you…well.” She gestures to Lily.
“When I board my own flight,” I finish quietly.
“Come. Come help,” Sophie says, pulling me to the door. “Lily’s fine on the floor for five seconds.”
We fly down the stairs, where I see a light blue duffel and—and a wrapped-up painting.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Sophie grabs it and starts heaving it up the stairs. “Grab my bag, would ya?”
I do, but it’s on automatic. “Soph, what did you bring?”
“A painting you told me not to ship you.”
I nearly miss a stair. “And you thought to bring it personally instead?”
“It’s beautiful, you know. And while you don’t think it is, I know someone that might.”
We’ve reached the top, where Lily, distracted once again by her blocks, has her back to us. But Sophie sets the wrapped painting next to her.
“I…that was painted in pure grief. Lily deserves more than that.”
Sophie stares at me levelly, then begins ripping the paper from the canvas.
“Soph, please don’t—”
“Cold, harsh action. That’s what you need, and it’s exactly what I’m here for. Unless you’d rather I splash ice water in your face instead.” She continues tearing.
I hold out a hand, but it’s weak. I have so little fight left.
In mere seconds, Sophie exposes the very face I’ve dreamed of, had nightmares about, and desperately wish was still with me.
Paige. Oh, Paige.
I forged her from water out of a sunset. Purple, pink, gold hues from the moment just before night hits. Mostly navy, mostly reflected stars. Her hair cascades with the coasting waves, the whitecaps forming each tendril.
She’s blue, so blue, and her eyes are closed. But she’s healthy, because I created her from memory, from the times we pulled all-nighters for exams, woke up hungover together, went to movies or binge-watched shows on our computer. Times when all I had to do was look across the room, and I’d see her.
“It’s too sad,” I choke out.
I’m rooted to the spot, turning to stone as Paige’s face comes to life in this apartment, in front of her daughter.
Lily, intrigued, smacks a hand against the canvas, then tries to climb it.
“Not the purpose of a painting, silly,” Sophie says, gently pushing Lily away. Sophie says to me, “I think Lily deserves this picture of her mother, don’t you?”
I’m unsure. I’m also well aware that Paige isn’t really anywhere in this apartment, except in ashes.
I lick my lips. “You’re trying to get me to say yes, but all I know of this painting is how to cry.”
“Lily doesn’t know that,” Sophie says lightly. “When she’s older, all she’ll see is a beautiful picture of her mom, cr
eated by you.”
My molars clank together, but I don’t argue.
“Settled, then,” Sophie says. “Where should I put it? Does Lil have a room?”
“She does. Over there, on the right.”
“Gotcha.”
Sophie disappears with the painting, but I stay in place, Sophie’s duffel at my feet, gazing longingly at Lily.
“There’s so much about you I don’t know yet,” I whisper. “How you’ll be when your older, the questions you’ll ask about your mom.”
“Bah!”
She lifts a laugh out of me. “Yes. Too right.”
I get down on my knees, reaching to hug Lily when there’s another knock at the door.
“Seriously?” I ask the air. I stand back up. “Who is it?”
“Ash,” comes the response. “Locke needs me to grab some shit.”
I roll my eyes, any effort at getting these men to stop swearing around Lily long diminished. “Hang on.”
For the second time, I unlock the deadbolt. This time, it’s a hulking, mean-looking dude in my purview. Out of all of them, this one scares me the most, even though he’s been intimidating, but polite. I suppose it’s all his muscles and tattoos. And his buzzcut.
“We’re just on our way to see him,” I say as Asher clunks in on motorcycle boots.
“I’d offer you a ride,” he says as he scans the apartment for no reason I can decipher. “But I’m on a bike.”
“Do you and Easton share?” I quip before I can stop myself. He pegs me over his shoulder.
“Ain’t nobody touches my bike but me.”
I raise my brows and say under my breath, “Duly noted.”
“I’ll be a sec. Just going into Locke’s room—oh, hey, little dude!”
Lily’s appeared from under the coffee table, crawling this time but giving an open-mouthed smile to Asher. Probably the only person in the world not in fear of him.
He picks her up and asks me, “Does she hate on anybody?”
Trusting You Page 27