by Pamela Ann
I think everyone had investigated that particular subject, but the very thought of Carter in that sense … Well, it just didn’t seem right to me.
“You’re insane.”
“Do everyone a favor and sleep with him. I think Bass will even owe you for life if you do.”
Was she serious? Carter was Brody’s best friend. If I had to move on to another man, I would love for that person to not be connected with Brody. Besides, Carter was battling his own demons. I felt for him because, in some ways, he and I were on the same boat—the outcast boat. The unrequited love boat.
“Are you about done, Trista? ‘Cause you seriously need to shut the fuck up and just enjoy this time. Lindsey might only get married once.”
“This is the second time, duh!”
Second marriage. Right.
Lindsey got married, got divorced, and got hitched again, all with the same man.
Lucky her.
Chapter Two
“What are you doing all alone here?” A male voice came from behind me.
Needing space from the crowd and Trista’s all-up-in-your-business attitude, I simply craved to be alone, minding my thoughts as I reflected on how my life had been and how far off I was from what I had intended to begin with.
Barely glancing at the newcomer, I wasn’t surprised to find Carter in this less lively corner of the yacht. I was sure seeing Emma moving on with her life and content without him was too much to bear.
“I needed some alone time,” I finally said before sending him a small smile, noting how off he seemed. “There’s just too much happiness everywhere. I needed to sort of get away from it.”
Recalling the day’s events, I felt a burst of happiness and pride as I remembered Lindsey’s beaming face, filled with mad love for her husband. What they felt for each other was genuine, and I couldn’t be happier she was finally at peace with herself. It was Dimitris who gradually cured her from her personal battles with the past. Love did conquer all.
Carter peered at me, thoughtful. “Too suffocating, isn’t it?”
I nodded, thinking the very same thing. “Something like that.” Shifting to my side so I was partially facing him, I sent him a worried frown. “Are you okay with her being here and all?” He obviously wasn’t fine, but someone had to ask. He and I weren’t considered close, despite growing up together, but we cared for each other’s wellbeing.
Carter let out a long sigh before popping his head from side to side like he normally did on the soccer field, making a cracking sound. “I’ve been better, but it’s my baby sister’s wedding; I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Anyone with eyes knew how much he doted on his sister. Though Lindsey could be a mighty bitch towards him, he always seemed to have a gentle way of reeling her in. It was rather sweet to see them interact with each other. They would bicker then laugh in the span of five minutes. It was endearing, really.
“She looks happy … I suppose that’s all we could ever ask for.”
Carter seemed stuck in his own reverie for a while. When he finally spoke, however, there was a catch to his voice. “She does, but no matter how you paint it, it doesn’t change the fact that though I’m happy deep down I’m still hurting.” He made a dry laugh, like it was funny that he was still reeling from the eviscerating pain Emma had inflicted on him. “It fucking does…” He made another dry laugh. “Who would’ve thought, you know? I went through women left and right, never once thinking one day I’d be the one in this position. Sorry… That was insensitive of me to say.” He cleared his throat, immediately remembering I was in the same position as him.
“No, no. Don’t apologize,” I vehemently insisted. “You have every right to voice your emotions.” To be honest, I liked the fact that he was opening up. It gave me a glimpse of the man behind the name and popularity that seemed to shadow him all his life. This … This was genuine.
And, given that we were speaking about such deep subjects, I couldn’t help delving into what my heart had been dying to know.
“How is he?” I asked in a small voice, hoping he could hear me and, at the same time, not hear me just in case he thought it was inappropriate, given the situation.
Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to mind. There was no look of shock or anything similar on his face. “Not good, as you can imagine.”
His answer was expected, but it did nothing to ebb my worry.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Of all the people who knew Brody, Carter was the right man to ask.
“Only time will tell.” He directed a meaningful look at me before adding, “He cares about you—he does—but he’s just too wrapped up with the past to see the present or the future.”
“Are you speaking for yourself or for him?”
“Him,” he responded with a strained voice. “Maybe both.” He snickered, admitting to his own uncertainty.
I was sure he wasn’t accustomed to showing people a glimpse of his vulnerable side, but I wasn’t just anyone. Besides, of all people, it wasn’t my place to judge.
“Do you think you’ll ever be over it?”
He remained pensive.
“If she asked you back now, would you be with her?”
“In a heartbeat,” he responded without having to pause. He meant it with every fiber of him, too.
“That’s—wow.” Beyond wow, actually. After all the hurt unfurled, he still had a lot more in him to continue loving Emma with such abandon. I was left speechless, really.
He snorted. “Yep. I’m all fucked up, and don’t I know it.”
“No, buddy, we’re fucked.”
“Weddings … God, how I hate them.”
Seriously. “I second that.”
For the first time since this trip, he gave me his fun-loving, usual Carter Mason smile, one without the strain of his heartache. “Hold on,” he said then quickly disappeared before returning in a span of minutes with two bottles of champagne in hand. “Let’s pop them together,” he said enthusiastically as he handed me a vintage and a butter knife.
I frowned at the utensil before I took it reluctantly, unsure what to do.
“Umm, I’ve never done this before.” It was better to voice it now instead of looking like a total idiot if I accidently splattered all of its contents on my beautiful dress or, better yet, all over him.
He threw me an amused look. “Whatever you do, don’t ever shake it, yeah?”
“Uh-huh. And then what?”
He took a moment before finally conceding that I wouldn’t be the best candidate to open a bottle of champagne, so he took it upon himself to open one at a time. Once he passed the first one off to me, he then lifted the bottle right above us, seeming silly.
“Here’s to us. May we find our true path in life.”
“Jesus, can you sound any more depressing, Carter?”
“Fuck… Okay, I’ll try again.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s roll with the punches and swim with the tides. Whatever happens, let’s hope we won’t be set aside.”
Ha. How fitting.
“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”
“It’s a golden secret of mine.” He made a hearty laugh, looking too hot for his own good. “Chicks dig the brooding type. Cracking jokes doesn’t automatically attract the opposite sex.”
“I beg to differ.”
Not one to argue, he simply said, “So, what’s been going on with you?”
Like there was anything really new with me. In case he didn’t notice, I was the least exciting one out of the bunch.
“Not much. Same old, same old. And you? I heard about the perfume incident.”
His demeanor darkened, not towards me, but back to his thoughts. The pain re-emerged in his dark eyes.
“Seems like everyone did apparently.”
“What was that all about?” My question came out lightly, but there was a force behind it. I wanted to pick his brain and see if he was still stuck there, in that dingy, dark hole. I wasn’t one to shy aw
ay from a conflicting subject since I’d had my fair share of ugliness.
Taking a hefty amount of gulps from the bottle, he didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “This and that.”
“You’re pretty vague there, buddy.” I was concerned. Besides, it seemed as if everyone was busy with their own lives these days, and the ones who didn’t have a significant other… Well, we mattered, too.
“It was just one of those things. Shit happens.”
“Doesn’t it always?”
He tried to shrug it off, but I knew better. He was still there, crawling his way out. It was a daily struggle. It was something you couldn’t shake off when you grew tired of it, because the moment it latched on, it was like a leech, sucking your blood out consistently until you had none to give. It would drain your energy, your daily motivation to get out there and live the kind of life you had dreamed for yourself. It would take it all away … slowly, persistently until you were stripped from everything you once were. It choked your breath, numbing you from any emotions while you watched your world pass you by.
Heartbreak didn’t only apply to one organ, but to the rest of your body and soul, too. It viciously gutted you, broke you. Coping with the aftermath was the most critical part because the numbness within was something you had to learn to live with on a daily basis. It would not leave you even if you were asleep; your subconscious would sprout and taint the very thing you used to escape from reality.
I was a byproduct of survival. I had been to Hell and back, and in my darkest days, the urge to give in to my demons and let them take over was still a struggle. Every day was a test, and I admit, I was getting too exhausted to keep on fighting. That was why I liked to surround myself with friends. That way, I didn’t have to think about the temptation of what it would be like to surrender to the Devil himself.
At peace with my camaraderie with Carter, I felt as though he and I had reached a different chapter in our lives, a different level of respect and understanding. It was as if our friendship was finally solidified, and I liked believing he and I would get through this dark phase of our lives.
Feeling a little sentimental, I made a slight move, nudging him on his shoulder. “Damn, I never thought I’d have a meaningful conversation with you. I’ve known you all my life, yet this is the first time I’ve had a conversation with you sober.” Heck, it was a milestone come to think of it.
He puffed out in denial, “That’s bullshit.”
“I’m totally serious. You were always drunk.” Had he not noticed the amount of beer his household consumed? They barely had anything in their fridge that wasn’t labeled ‘Drink Responsibly.’
“Well, maybe because you don’t come around often, and when you do, you’re always tagging around Brody.”
He had a point, but…
“You could be right about that, but I’m telling you, Carter Mason, you’re a certified booze junkie and a notorious man-whore.”
The light in his eyes reemerged before he busted out in a good laugh. “It’s like that, huh? I see … I see how it is.” He gave another round of guffawing before he nodded towards me. “You’re great, Amber. Don’t think otherwise.”
Instead of responding, I simply gave a smile, truly wanting to believe him, but it was hard to break a habit of always putting myself down. When someone gave me a compliment, I could never shake it off. I had to think twice about it before trying to accept it.
It was a feat to admit it even to myself, but my self-esteem was tattered, and I wasn’t sure how I could reshape it into something positive. Maybe my obsession with Brody masked all the ugliness in my world, because whenever he was around, I could only focus on how my heart would rapidly accelerate, making me feel completely alive and so passionate it was hard not to get addicted to the feeling.
Lost in the sea of tumultuous thoughts, my mind wandered to the one night that had sealed the deal for me.
Chapter Three
Approximately six years ago…
It was one of those balmy California summers where everyone gathered around the beach and their swimming pools to cool off. Donning their cute, sexy scraps of bikinis, they sipped their beverage, laughing and enjoying a lazy, hazy afternoon.
Desperately needing to get away from my problems, I sought out a pool party that was thrown in the Spanish-style mansion of Brody’s parents in Montecito.
It was also one of those rare moments where Lindsey wasn’t around, and Brody was being chased by the girls from school he flirted back with ceaselessly. Hormones raged and it was a given that, if Carter, Brody, or Cooper chose you to be their “girl,” you were the lucky one. They were dubbed the hot, sexy trinity, and every girl I knew wanted them, any one of them. The girls could have the rest because I only wanted one—the one I had been secretly in love with since middle school or maybe even way before that. Who the hell knew?
My parents were being their usual rotten selves, and that night, things had somehow escalated to a breaking point. I was an only child, one they had then kept pointing out that I wasn’t planned, that they had gotten married because my mother had gotten pregnant, and back in their heyday, it was imperative for a man to marry the girl. Since Mom came from an influential family background, my father had been left no choice in the matter. Shotgun marriage, it sure was.
I wasn’t sure what was worse, really: to be born into a family who couldn’t care less if I vanished or died somewhere or to be endlessly criticized for not being smart enough, pretty enough to be granted a sprinkle of attention. It seemed the only time they cared was when I got in trouble.
It began when I angrily beat up my cousin Benson, who was two years older than me, with a heavy, silver hairbrush because he wouldn’t stop mocking me. Back then, my anger had been channeled into a lot of throwing and destructive things, but it was the first incident that I had hurt someone intentionally. My anger coiled and rolled off me as if I was possessed by it. I couldn’t control it; the deep-seated need to keep on going was inevitable. It gnawed at me, blinding me from what I had truly become. So, in the shroud of its darkness, I didn’t realize what had happened until Benson was shaken to his core, his eyes glassed with tears as he look at me with that big, painful gaze of his. In it, I found something—he was terrified of me. For the first time, I had found a way to make him halt his demeaning taunts, and I felt empowered by it.
His forehead was cut open, and it drew a deep crimson-colored blood trail, somehow freezing me in amazement at how easily I could actually hurt anyone even at such a young age. Benson’s mother, my mother’s sister, obviously was hysterical and didn’t waste any time before she started lecturing and shrieking at my mother’s incompetence, blaming her for my lack of respect and foul attitude.
At first, I was mortified at what I had done, but in the end, I realized that, by doing such awful things, it reflected on her and my father. In some weird way, it got a reaction from her, letting her know I had inflicted hurt the way she and my dad consistently did without remorse.
This was one of the focal points where I became accustomed to the word and lifestyle known as addiction.
“Hey there, Amberini.”
Upon hearing his warm, deep, honeyed voice, the war—the pain and all the painful things that were compressed in my chest—immediately vanished.
“Hey,” I meekly replied, barely giving him a glance.
Brody … He was here, and all would be fine.
Composing myself, I tried to look less eager than most women around there, those who didn’t even dare mask their intentions with him.
Amberini—it was a nickname he used to tease me when no one was around. I wasn’t sure why, but he never called me that when any of our friends were in hearing distance. I was simply too happy that he had a name for me. It felt like it was our secret, so I didn’t dare ask what was with the name.
He came up close, standing next to me, and I felt his hand touch the side of my hip before he leaned close to my ear. “Everything okay? You look glum.” His
voice was teasing, but there was evident concern in there, as well.
“Just stuff…” Showing vulnerability wasn’t what I was about, yet hearing him ask if I was okay turned me into a puddle of goo-goo shit.
“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me,” he persisted with his calming voice, urging me to open up to him.
I shrugged, contemplating if I should or shouldn’t. “Family stuff. It’s no big deal, really.” Admitting a part of my problem was a major deal for me; however, I wasn’t prepared just yet to divulge the kind of ugliness I was sure he had never been exposed to. Hiding things and running away from them was what I was accustomed to; talking about it wasn’t.
Still holding me close, he used his strength to maneuver me out of the pool area and into the garden section of his home, somewhere quiet, somewhere he could grill me to open up to him.
“Family stuff can be the biggest deal most of the time,” he finally said as we started to walk around the green, lush haven littered with palm trees and all sorts of pretty, exotic-looking flowers.
One thing I knew was that Brody had a way to bring out my emotions. He did it better than Trista or any of my friends, maybe because I loved him. Today, I wasn’t sure why, but I felt as though I just couldn’t talk about it. I simply wanted to forget them and everything in between.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Wanting to eagerly brush this whole thing off, I threw a brave smile at him. It was one that should tell him I was fine, that he had nothing to worry about. “Why don’t you go ahead and party? People will be looking for you soon.”
Around the pool area was already chaotic and loud, and I found myself being comforted by the noise of it—the laughter and plain, simple fun of being young and reckless.
“I don’t really care for the party.” His gaze didn’t waver, zeroing in on me as though he could see through my façade of bravery. “Something tells me you’re not okay, so I’m staying and keeping you company, instead. This can take all night you know, and I just want to tell you I won’t care if it does.”