by Celeste, B.
When we’re both inside, he cranks up the heat and turns the vents to point on me. “You look like an icicle right now.”
I blush, but the warmth of my cheeks feels anything but. Putting my hands up to the heat, I rub them together for friction before letting out a tiny breath of relief. “I was sitting there for twenty minutes.”
He stares at me. “You should have tried finding someone,” he scolds, backing out of the spot. “Or calling a tow truck at least.”
I don’t want to tell him that I can’t afford another tow. My paychecks haven’t been great, and I was already forced to use some of Danny’s money to pay my half of the bills. I know it’s what the funds are there for, to keep a roof over Ainsley’s head and food in the fridge, but it feels wrong. Like dirty money somehow.
“I would have figured something out,” is all I can say, staring out the window as we drive through campus toward the main road.
After a long stretch of silence, he breaks it with a question I should have logically given him an answer to before shutting down. “Where do you live?”
Playing with the bag draped on my lap, I give him my address and watch him nod. It seems like an eternity before he opts to reach over and turn the radio on. It’s playing the type of rock songs that I remember Jesse always listening to.
It makes me smile. “Jesse got me into this band,” I tell him quietly, easing back into the seat and getting comfortable. “He’d tell me I didn’t have to listen to country all the time just because my parents liked it.”
He chuckles. “This was his favorite. We’d go out sometimes and he’d always be playing their CD until I wanted to smack him.”
Sounds like him. “Have you talked with him lately? I should probably check in, but we don’t really do that much these days.”
His face screws as he glances at me for a millisecond. “Why?”
I shrug. “We just don’t. We’re both busy and living our own lives. It’s not a big deal or anything. Jesse and I were never that close.”
His lips purse before he nods once. “He’s doing fine. Just got promoted at the shop he works at. I think his plans to start his own automotive business didn’t pan out, so he’s trying to get his boss to agree to a partnership.”
I try forcing my lips neutral, but they curve into a frown. Why didn’t I know Jesse wanted to own his own shop? It’s never come up in any conversations we’ve had in the past, and I doubt that was some new dream. “Oh. Cool.”
He must sense the shift in my mood. “I think he’s been busy. He and Ren have been in a weird place lately and he’s worked a lot to save up for—” His abrupt stop makes me turn to him and away from the scenery I’m watching pass us on the interstate leading to my house.
“What?”
He blows out a breath. “They, uh, have been trying for kids. It hasn’t been working out and it’s put a lot of stress on their marriage. Jesse’s been picking up more projects to pay for treatment for her.”
I blink. “Oh.”
Oh. My body tenses again as I shift my attention back out the passenger window. I know Carter is only answering my question, but it doesn’t stop the hurt from sinking in. It’s not like he intentionally said that to upset me, but I thought Jesse and I were at least in a place to know the basics. Kids is a big deal.
“Sorry,” he murmurs quietly.
“I asked.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m…” I shake my head. “He probably didn’t want to tell me because of everything that’s happened. After Danny’s funeral it felt sort of like this mutual interest wasn’t there anymore.”
He merges into a different lane to pass a car in front of us. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is.” We’re quiet for a moment. “I never knew they wanted kids. Once, he and Ren came by to see me around the holidays at my old apartment and they left in a weird mood. I thought it was because of Danny, but…”
Carter doesn’t say anything, leaving me to collect my thoughts for a moment. Are they upset with me because of Ainsley? It isn’t like Jesse and Danny were as close as we were.
“Maybe they’re upset with me.” I like Ren a lot. The last thing I want is her and my brother to have a problem with the guardianship I got for Ainsley. It was never expected. Kids was the last thing on my mind. But maybe that’s the problem. “It makes sense, I guess.”
Carter doesn’t seem to agree. “I’m sure they’re not upset with you. Why would they be? Look, they’re both just busy with a lot on their plates. Reach out. It couldn’t hurt.”
He’s right. But that doesn’t mean I’ll send a text and bite my nails until I get one back that isn’t more than a word or two like normal. Sometimes it’s better not to feed the disappointment and just assume the worst.
“He loves you,” Carter states. “And he—” Something hard smacks into my chest as the car fishtails on the road, causing my heartrate to spike and tears to instantly begin pouring down my eyes. It’s a response I can’t help as Carter evens out the vehicle without getting us into an accident, and I can’t control my ragged breathing.
I start hyperventilating as adrenaline courses through my veins. Glancing down, I see his forearm still held out in front of me in protection, with fresh teardrops on his jacket sleeve from the train wreck that is my existence.
He pulls over as soon as we get off the exit, turning his body to scope me out. His arm has since lowered, his hand now resting on my knee and squeezing as I try containing the tears. “Are you okay? Piper, look at me.”
I keep shaking my head, burying my face into my palms as I heave out another sob.
“It’s okay. We’re okay.”
But we’re not.
“D-Danny d-died in a c-car crash,” I manage to force out between suffocating cries, too worked up to be embarrassed that I’m bawling in front of him.
But Carter isn’t just some random guy who teaches me and offered me a ride home. He knows me—the old me. The version of me who loved Danny and knew what kind of amazing person he was growing up. That kind of connection has me dropping my hand on his and squeezing until the tears subside nearly ten minutes later.
And he stays quiet and lets me calm down without saying a word through it all, just keeps his hand underneath mine, draped on my knee, with nothing but the radio and the rush of passing cars to fill the silence.
I finally look at him, eyes blurring my vision and sore as I wipe at them. “I miss him, Carter. I miss him so much.”
His hand flips and takes mine in his, tightening his hold once. Just once. But that small, comforting gesture is everything. “I know you do, Piper.”
He doesn’t say he misses him too.
But I can see it in his eyes.
When we finally arrive at my house, he studies the outside and lone light on upstairs that must be from Easton’s room. I don’t mention my roommate, or Ainsley, or Danny. I just say, “Thank you” and feel his heavy gaze on my every step until I’m locked inside my house.
Chapter Fourteen
The sweet smell of maple bacon lures me into the kitchen, tired eyes scoping out the way Easton towers over the stove and Ainsley stabs into eggs at the counter. I blink a few times before walking to the full coffee pot, watching my roommate take the pieces of bacon and slide them onto a napkin-covered plate beside him.
“Morning,” he murmurs, focused on finishing the eggs that sizzle on the pan over.
My eyes study the whole scene curiously, wondering why he’s cooking breakfast. “Uh, hey. Is that real bacon?”
One of his brows quirks. “Yeah.”
“But you’re vegetarian.” It seems stupid to point out to someone what food preferences they have, but I’m a little lost. It’s not the first time he’s cooked something, it’s just usually tied to an apology or bad mood he’s in. “Did you have a good night?”
He grumbles something under his breath before flicking off the burners. “Just thought I’d make breakfast. That so bad?”
I quickly shake my head, brining my full mug of coffee over to the seat by Ainsley and sitting down as he sets a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me. My stomach grumbles loudly over the mouthwatering smell as I pick up a fork and look at Ainsley. “Did you just get up?”
She hesitates, looks at Easton who’s not paying us any attention, before signing yes. I smile at the use of a word we learned over the course of weeks, knowing we still have a long way to go. But it’s better than a head nod or shake or tugging on my clothes when she wants something.
“Didn’t see your car,” he notes, sliding eggs from the frying pan onto a new plate. I stab some of my eggs and watch him grab the stool at the end, picking up a glass of water and sipping it while watching me expectedly.
Oh. “I got a ride home from somebody. My car broke down on campus.” Eyes widening, I murmur a curse and look around for my phone, only to remember I left it in my room. “I need to call someone to look at it.”
His eyes stay locked on my face. “I can.”
I blink. “You’re a mechanic?”
“I know a thing or two.”
Contemplating it, I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’ll call my dad after I’m done eating. I’m just glad Jenna had Ainsley. It was … the weather was pretty bad.”
“I can look at the car. I’m closer.”
How he knows that is beyond me. I don’t remember telling him where my hometown is. Then again, it’s probably not hard to assume that wherever it is isn’t as close as our house is to campus. Still. “Easton, it’s fine. Plus, don’t you have work today? My dad can come look at it later on.”
His head cocks. “And how are you going to get to campus?”
Damn. He has me there. “Uh…”
Sighing, he picks up his fork. “I’ll drive you. The shop doesn’t open until later anyway.”
I glance at Ainsley. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience to you or anything. Ains needs to get to school, then me to campus—”
All he says is, “Better get eating then.”
And all I can do is shut up and stare.
The hood on my car is up with my roommate bundled up in layers that hides his tattoos well. For some reason, it saddens me. Then again, the girls that pass by in swarms and glance at his toned butt that’s bent over the front as he looks at the engine garners enough attention—add ink and he’ll never get away without getting passed more phone numbers than he’ll know what to do with.
Grinding my teeth, I reposition my bag strap and watch him carefully. I know nothing about cars beside where to put windshield washer fluid in, and how to check my oil. If I ever got a flat tire I’d be screwed. Everything else? It’s why I have my Dad and a roadside assistance card.
“You can go,” he tells me, standing up and looking at me from around the hood. “I think I know what’s wrong. Wouldn’t want to make you late.”
I frown. “I feel bad ditching you.”
“You’re not going to be much help standing around,” he points out. I make a face at the blunt statement knowing it’s true. He gestures for me to go, making my shoulders drop a little.
“Thank you. For everything.” I take a step away, then stop again and turn. “I’ll make it up to you. Dinner or something.”
He just nods once before turning his back to me and focusing on the car again. When I give him a once-over, I swear the corners of his lips are tilted up into a tiny smile.
I find myself smiling too.
When I arrive at Carter’s room before class begins, I drop my bag next to his on the front table and greet him like usual. I don’t want to mention last night, though I know I should thank him again. He didn’t have to give me a ride home, which would have saved him from having to comfort me after my breakdown.
“Want to lead the discussion today?” he asks, giving me an out like he knew I needed it. Or maybe he’s not even thinking about last night.
“Sure. Where we left off?”
He grabs his textbook and flips to a bookmarked page. Like me, he color-codes the chapters with Post-It tabs. His eyes scan over the page before he hands it to me and points toward a highlighted chapter. “I think we’ll start off with a pop quiz based on this section to make sure they read. Then we’ll begin with any last remarks on Wednesday’s discussion.”
I nod and read over the text to memorize the topic. I’d been reading up on it the other night but got distracted when Easton knocked on my bedroom door. Even though nothing happened between us that night, I never went back to the passage because I couldn’t stop thinking about how East and I had talked before he left.
Just talked.
About … nothing.
“Piper?”
I blink at Carter, cheeks heating. “Huh?”
Amusement flickers across his face as he leans against the blank whiteboard. “You okay? You spaced out on me.”
“Oh.” I wave it off. “Yeah. I was thinking about homework, that’s all. Speaking of, these guys have their first paper due soon, right?”
His head bobs. “Correct. I’ll need your help grading them. I figured we could choose a day that works best for both of us and go over a grading rubric then split the papers in half to grade.”
After agreeing, we let the oncoming students fill the room and break any conversation. The pop quiz seemingly puts a damper on everyone’s Friday as Carter writes the questions on the board and tells everyone to take out a sheet of paper to answer them on.
Based on the pinched faces and minimal writing, I’m pretty sure nobody did the assigned reading. It makes me think back to my freshman year, where I color-coded everything and wrote two sets of notes to get lectures in my head. I did readings ahead of time and studied way too hard when I knew exams were approaching.
I was always serious about schoolwork and grades, which is a huge reason I hated going to parties with Jenna. She’d bust me out of my dorm room and drag me along by guilting me about never seeing her because I was too busy worrying about getting A’s in class.
Looking back now, I realize I might have been too focused. How much did I miss out on because I thought nothing could be more important than homework? Danny used to tease me whenever I called him to complain about a party I went to by force, telling me I should stop complaining and have fun for a change.
“Enjoy things while they last, Pipe. It won’t last forever,” he’d always say.
And God was he right.
The fifty-minute period goes by smoothly, though conversation was limited after everyone turned in their quizzes. Carter would intervene and ask someone to speak up or reiterate a point I made to get dialogue flowing.
When class ends and almost everyone files out in grumbled murmurs and talk of skipping the rest of their classes, Carter walks over to the table and pulls out something from his bag. I’m grabbing my things the same time he’s holding out a plastic card toward me. Hesitantly, I take it and examine the words on the front.
“Why am I holding a gift card?”
“So you can eat at the restaurant you left before getting your food,” he answers simply, turning away to pack up his things.
What?
Staring at his back, I begin to reply when one of his students walks up to us. “Professor Ford? I was wondering if I could set up a time to talk to you about the first writing assignment.”
Carter turns to her with pressed lips. “It isn’t due for almost two weeks.”
The poor girl’s cheeks redden. “Yeah, but … uh, I wanted to make sure I’m understanding it. My scholarship depends on my grades, so I need to keep them up.”
Pressing my lips together, I stare down at the gift card while Carter tells her to meet him during office hours tomorrow. She nods and then looks at me with a timid smile before leaving. I can’t help but feel bad for her.
“She was flirting.”
He pauses. “What?”
I bob my head. “I don’t care how important school is to someone, you don’t try getting one-on-one time
with a professor two weeks before something is due unless you want time alone with them for another reason. I’d know. I used to be that person.” Eyes widening, I quickly backtrack. “I mean the person who always got work done early, not the person who wanted special one on one time with a professor.”
There’s no refraining my laughter when his face scrunches with discomfort. “I’m practically old enough to be her father.”
Shrugging nonchalantly, I readjust my bag and try handing him back the card. “I’m sure you are, grandpa, but people don’t care about that if they think you’re attractive. My best friend is obsessed with Jeff Goldblum. See my point?” I shake the gift card at him. “I’m not taking this. I can go back there and eat whenever I want with my own money.”
He sighs, not reaching for the object I want him to take back. “Piper, the restaurant insisted on me giving it to you. I think they assumed the worst when you left before receiving your meal. I’ve had it for a while and just never got a chance to give it to you.”
“Oh.” Slowly, I lower my arm. “Are you sure you don’t want it? My time is kind of limited, so I don’t go out very often.”
Cringing at how pathetic that sounds, I play it off by giving him a friendly smile. He’s probably figured out as much considering I have a little girl to take care of on top of school.
“It’s yours,” he insists, draping his bag over his shoulder and nodding toward the door. We’re quiet for a moment as we walk toward the exit, before he says, “Why does she like Jeff Goldblum?”
Snickering, I shake my head. “She’s obsessed with the Jurassic Park movies. I keep telling her that the guy is creepy, but then she just spams my messages with pictures of him. One time, she drunk dialed me and started rambling on about what a Zaddy he is because she’d binge-watched all the movies after consuming her weight in rum.”
He stops. “A … what?”
