by Lyla Grace
“Why do you assume it was because of a girl?”
“Isn’t it always?”
She laughs at my very general reasoning. “Her name is Savannah. Or as Carter called her, Savy.”
“Okay, that just makes me want to gag.”
“Of course it does. You’re in love with him,” Char says very matter of factly.
"Am not," I say. I sound like a child with my argument, which makes us both burst out laughing.
“He gave me the same bullshit lie last night. Jesus, you two need help.”
“Did he also tell you why he’s not speaking to me and why we can’t be together.”
She nods as she speaks, “Yep. And my previous statement still stands. Trust me, take it from someone who knows, love doesn’t come around often. When you feel it, you need to grab ahold of it and never let go.”
We pull into the driveway of a gorgeous home on what feels like endless acres of land. The view is breathtaking. “You have a beautiful home,” I tell her.
"Carter has a beautiful home; she corrects me. He lets us live in it."
“Us?” I ask.
We walk into the home, and Carter is sitting at the dining table, a little boy in a wheelchair across from him. As angry as he seemed last night, he sure looks at peace today. Nothing has changed with Cody so I can only assume that this little boy instills that in Carter, peace, and happiness. It's a gift that children have.
“Look who I found,” Char replies as she drops her bag on the table. “I hear she’s a movie star.”
Carter glances up from the Go-Fish cards he has in his hands to glare at his sister. "If Luke weren't here, I would have some choice words for you, Sis."
“Bad words?” the little boy asks.
“All the bad words,” Carter replies.
Char ruffles the little boy’s hair. “Don’t listen to your Uncle. He’s just in a bad mood. He hasn’t gotten any in a while.”
“Gotten any what?” the boy asks.
“Cereal. Your mom ate it all this morning,” Carter replies. Carter shakes his head at his sister. “Jesus, Char.”
“What? It’s true,” she laughs.
“Who are you?” the little boy asks. He moves toward me in his wheelchair with an ability no child his age should be able to.
I squat down and extend my hand to him. “I’m Lexie.”
“Are you Uncle Carter’s girlfriend?” he asks.
I look at Carter, then back at the little boy. “No, I’m his therapist. I’m here to help him make his arm better.”
"Oh." The little boy sounds disappointed in my response. "Do you want to be his girlfriend? He's the best Uncle ever," he tells me. "He's a lot of fun, and he's nice too. And he buys the best presents. If you will be his girlfriend, I'm sure he'd be extra nice to you."
The look on Carter's face is priceless. So much so that I almost want to say yes. But Carter gets lucky, and Char intervenes. "Come on, Luke, why don't we give Uncle Carter some privacy."
"Ugh. Fine. Just think about it okay?" Luke asks.
“I will,” I tell him as I stifle a laugh.
He follows Char into the kitchen.
“Cute wingman you got there,” I tell him.
“You have no idea,” Carter replies.
I saunter past him. “Oh, but I do.”
“Is it working?” Carter asks.
“Definitely.”
Carter begins to pace around the living room. My presence is making him uncomfortable. I'm just not quite sure why. Yes, he's pissed at me. Still, he's never behaved like this before.
“You okay?” I ask.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I just… Fuck.”
I rest my hand on his injured arm. “I know you think you can’t, but you can trust me.”
“Don’t you think I want to? Damn it, Lexie, I want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were.”
“They can,” I plead with him.
"How? Christ between you and Cody, my head is so messed up. I just…"
"I'm so sorry, Carter."
"I know you've told me."
I nod. He's right I have. It must be the millionth apology I've given him in the past few days despite knowing that it's not going to change anything or make him feel better. I hate seeing him in turmoil, and I don't know how to fix it.
“Now that I know you’re okay, I’ll just head back.”
With a definite purpose, escaping, I hurry to the front door. My hand in on the knob and I am about to blow this popsicle stand.
“Lexie, wait.”
I don't look at him, but I can see his eyes boring a hole in me. I can feel him come closer, the nearness of his body overheating my own.
His hand pushes the hair at my neck away, his lips close to my ear. "That's just it; I don't want you to go."
“I just want to make things easier on you.”
"I know." His lips graze the skin at the base of my neck. "And being this close to you, it's hard. All of me is hard Lexie. But I can't seem to stay away."
“What… what do you want me to do?”
“Hey Uncle Carter, can we play football?” a small voice shouts out.
I feel Carter’s head drop to my shoulder. “Yeah, bud, of course. Just give me a minute okay?”
I can hear Luke start cheering. He has nothing but love and adoration for Carter. It's obvious just by how Luke looks at him. "I'll go get the football," he shouts.
“I’ll see you later,” I tell him.
“Stay,” he replies.
“Are you sure?” I ask hesitantly.
"No," he laughs. "But I want you too, anyway."
He’s trying so hard.
I turn to him, doing everything in my power not to kiss him. "Okay, but if you get sick of me…"
“Send you back to my parent’s house with Cody? I don’t think so.” He backs away from me. “So, think you can toss a football?”
“With my eyes closed, Wallace.”
We steal Luke away from Char and head outside. With one hand, Carter tosses the ball to me with ease. "Let's see what you got, Princess."
Taking the ball in my right hand, I chuck it at him – in perfect form.
“Damn, Princess, where’d you learn to throw like that?” he asks.
“Same place you did,” I tease him as I watch him toss the ball to Luke.
Carter's head turns in my direction. I'm worried that my joke was more of a reminder than anything else — a reminder that I am in fact, nothing more than his off-limits coach's daughter.
"I sure as hell would rather have practiced with you all these years," he says. His gorgeous smile is on his face, and it gives me hope that maybe he will be able to forgive me. At least enough that possibly, we could be friends.
I watch as Luke tosses the ball back to Carter. The kid is good, damn good.
“Great throw, Luke,” I cheer him on.
We continue our game a while longer until Char asks me to come in and help her with lunch.
“I hope you don’t mind me stealing you away,” she asks. “It’s just so rare that I have any girl time. Between taking care of Luke and Scott’s practice being so hectic.”
“Who’s Scott?”
"Scott is my husband and Luke's doctor. We met after Luke's accident." She sighs, clearly still having a difficult time talking about it. "Luke's dad took off the minute we found out about him not being able to walk again. He said he couldn't handle it. But, Scott? He stood by my side every step of the way. And, after my divorce was final, he asked me out. The rest is history." She pauses, then looks me in the eye. "How do you feel about Carter?"
“Oh, uh…”
“I need to know Lexie, please.”
“Carter is—” I pause, shocked by how easy the words came to me. No thought needed. I look out at him again; he’s lying on a blanket with Luke looking up at the clouds. He’s pointing to something and Luke is laughing. “He’s everything I ever wanted. In these few short weeks I…”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But, it does Lexie. I know Carter is pissed and I know there are some other hurdles you guys have to overcome, but when it’s right? It’s right. And I can see that with you two, it’s right. Lexie, I haven’t seen Carter look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“Not even Savannah?” I’m probing, looking for her to tell me no and validate his feelings for me when I know he won’t.
“Not even close.” She picks up the tray off the counter. “Come on; let’s get these boys their lunch.
∆ ∆ ∆
"You're good with him," Carter says as we drive back to his parent's house.
“He’s a great kid,” I reply.
“Do you want kids of your own?” he asks.
"Someday, but for now…" I pause. The reason we are in the situation we are, or at least part of it, is because I wasn't upfront about things. Maybe, if he sees I'm open and honest with him, we can find a way to build on that. "I had a miscarriage three years ago."
His shoulders relax, and the amount of concern and sadness in his eyes warms my heart. "God, Lex, I'm so sorry," he says.
"I appreciate it, but it's okay. I was not ready to be a mother. Hell, when I first found out, I wished for a miscarriage. I didn't want the baby. Then, when it happened…" I look up to the cloudy sky. "I couldn't believe what a huge loss it was, how much it hurt. I was sad, I felt guilty, and I didn't know how to cope. Then one day, I saw this post on Facespace for an organization looking for volunteers to cuddle sick babies who didn't have a home. So, I rushed over and signed up. The first baby I held was a little boy named Logan Rosman. There was just something about him; I felt an instant connection to him."
“That’s an amazing way to turn a negative into a positive,” Carter says. “I need to take a page from your book.”
That’s when the proverbial light bulb goes off in my head. “I think I know a way you can do that.”
Confusion and concern grace his handsome face. I am so thrilled with my idea; I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before. It's an excellent project for Carter to work on, repair his reputation while rehabbing his arm. It's a win, win for everyone. And maybe, just maybe, if my dad sees how well Carter and I work together, what a great team we are, then perhaps he'll break his no dating my daughter rule just this once.
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” he laughs.
“What if you started a sports program for kids with special needs like Luke and Logan,” I suggest. I am so thrilled and excited about my idea.
When I glance over at Carter, though…
Chapter 11 – Carter
Who the hell does she think she is? She meets Luke and just because he’s in a chair she assumes he’s special needs?
Maybe things between Lexie and I going South happened for a good reason. She’s obviously not the person I thought she was.
“Luke is not special needs,” I argue.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says. “I just meant…”
“I don’t give a damn what you meant,” I tell her. “People like you are the exact reason why I keep Luke hidden. He doesn’t need to be judged by the ignorant…”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Lexie shouts. “I am not judging, nor am I insulting Luke. He has a physical impairment that prohibits him from being involved in a lot of things that kids his age get to do. With your status, you could allow him those opportunities. A sports program for kids like him could get a lot of attention and support.”
“He doesn’t need more people staring at him,” I argue.
“He also doesn’t deserve to be hidden away,” she replies.
“It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.”
She directs her gaze out the window, and when we get back to my parent's house, she gets out of the truck and walks directly into the house and to her room.
I’m standing at the bottom of the stairs watching her disappear when my dad comes up next to me.
“Everything okay?” my dad asks.
“Just great,” I tell him.
He gives me that look, the one that tells you that the person you are lying to knows you better than you think they do. "She called Luke special needs, then suggested that I sponsor a sports program for ‘kids like him.'" He stands there, not saying anything. "What?"
"It's a pretty good idea," he says.
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shakes his head. "Not at all. Just think about it, about the possibilities. For Luke and you."
I have thought about it. I've thought about all the attention Luke would get if the world knew that he was my nephew, the stares, the whispers. He doesn't need that; he doesn't deserve it. And what the hell is he talking about the possibilities for me? What would any of this do for me? And how could he think that I was so selfish as to put Luke on display to benefit myself?
I'm still thinking about it when I wake up in the morning and when I knock on Lexie's bedroom door. The idea has…possibilities. I will give her that much. So, again, I knock, still no answer.
“Open the door, Lexie,” I shout.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Lexie: Text me the address; I will meet you there.
“Oh, come on, you can’t be serious.”
Lexie: Address. Now.
If that's how she wants to be, fine, I shoot her a text with the gym address and head out. Godforsaken, stubborn woman. I can't wait to see how she plans on conducting our therapy session if she isn't speaking to me.
Besides, aren't I the one that isn't speaking to her? After all, she is the one that lied to me for weeks about who she was. What reason does she have to be so angry?
I’m riding the bike when Lexie walks in with a fury. She drops her bag on the floor with a thud and marches over to me. I hop off the bike and stand in front of her. She points to the bench. Following her direction, I take a seat. Neither of us says a word. I know why I’m pissed, I’m not sure why she is though.
Her focus is solely on my shoulder. The way she is manipulating it, slowly easing it into a further range of motion, far surpasses any therapy I have received to this point. I knew that she smart, well versed in the treatment and training that I need. Maybe she can work miracles after all. My arm is sore, but it's a good sore, a feeling that tells me it's healing. She rubs down my shoulder, slowly runs her hand down my arm, then jerks it back. I turn to look at her, but she's already walking away.
“What the hell is your problem?” I ask as I come up behind her. When she doesn’t answer, I take a softer approach. Resting my hands on her arms, “Lex…”
“Let me go,” she demands.
“Not until we talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Too bad, Princess. You don’t have a choice.”
“Like hell, I don’t.” She moves out of my hold.
"Will you just listen to me, please?"
Defiant and a pain in my ass, she begins to walk away from me. I grab her arm and twirl her toward me. She begins to yell at me, but I don't hear it. I am lost in her and before I even realize what I'm doing, I have her against me, my lips crashing onto hers. Everything I have bottled up inside of me the past couple of days comes out in this kiss. I'm angry and turned on, and I want her so damn bad.
Luckily, she stops fighting me. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she deepens the kiss. God, I miss her. Much like the first night we met, I'm primed and ready to take her right here, right now. I highly doubt another sex tape is going to help either of us, though.
I pull back, my eyes focused on hers. “I need you, Lexie,” I tell her.
“I need you, too,” she replies.
Grabbing her hand, I drag her out of the gym and to my truck. Memories of that first night flood my mind. I help her inside. She pulls the belt over her, and I'm still staring.
"What?" she asks seeming, unsure of herself.
“You’re just…”
I can�
��t put it into words though. The way she makes me feel defies every other emotion I have ever experienced. Instead of speaking, I show her. I look deep into her eyes and kiss her, over and over.
“Somewhere… private,” she suggests.
I chuckle as I close the door to the vehicle. I’m not entirely sure I can wait until we get somewhere private.
I’m driving through town like a bat out of hell. I can’t risk her changing her mind, or me talking myself out of what I know is a mistake. The driveway at my parents is empty. Thank God.
I damn near pull her out of the truck. When I do, she steps into me, grabbing my face, and covering my lips with hers. I instantly react, my fingers digging into her hips, my erection pressed against her. We taste, touch, explore with unrelenting desire. I want more; no need it because I've waited too long for this.
“Go, upstairs now,” I order her. We barely make it to my room before we’re a frenzied mess of hands and kisses. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say between kisses.
“Probably not,” she agrees. Her hands drop to the waist of my pants. “But I have no intention of stopping.”
“I think I will literally die if I am not inside you soon.”
A playful smile on her face, "Well then, we should probably do something about that." I raise my eyebrows, urging her to continue. Her smile fades, and a dark, sexy haze casts over her eyes. "Fuck me, Carter."
“Is that what you want, Lex? For me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” she replies, her voice almost inaudible.
“Undress for me,” I command her as I ease the sling off of me.
She slides her shirt over her head. I let out a soft whistle at the sight of her. Slowly she steps out of her jeans and stands before me wearing nothing but her hot pink bra and panties. She reaches behind her back to unclasp the bra, her breasts thrusting toward me. I watch the material fall to the floor before my eyes snap back up and focus on her. "Damn. You are fucking gorgeous." She hooks her finger into the waistband of her panties and begins to slide them down. "Wait."
She stops, her eyes going wide as the words escape me. I sink to my knees before her. As desperately as I need her, I want to enjoy her. Knowing this shouldn't be happening, that I certainly can't let it happen again, I remind myself to take my time with her. I want to memorize every taste and touch. I cover the lace fabric of her panties with my mouth. "Perfect. Fucking. Perfect."