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CHAPTER TWELVE

carter

It’s like I put an idea out into the universe, the notion of a life I don’t actually live, and it rose to the challenge.

Like the stars aligned or something. The woman who I desperately need to publicly act like my girlfriend kissed me in a crowded room, asked me to take her home, and is now in my passenger seat.

I can work with this.

I glance at her on the way to her place. “So, you kissed me.”

She rolls her eyes. Still doesn’t look at me, though.

“Does that mean you’re agreeing to my favour?”

Her head snaps in my direction. “Absolutely not. That was just me getting you out of trouble. Reimbursement for getting you into it the other night.”

I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, my hope deflating a bit. I look at the road instead of her, because she’s wrong. Dead wrong. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

All she does is shrug. Fiery little thing, she is. A bit snappy for no good reason, but I can see the size of that heart from a mile off. Even if she tries to hide it. It’s bleeding all over my G-Wagon, so I know it’s there. She saved my ass, didn’t she ?

She feels bad that I got in trouble for throwing a punch over her. Like she’s the one who folded my fist and smashed it into Collin’s nose. That’s his name, by the way. Suit Guy. Collin Donahue. It was written in all the documents that had my pending assault charges attached.

She still says nothing.

“It wasn’t, Red.”

“I know,” she mutters, but by the way she’s back to glaring out the window, I’m not sure she does. “I just don’t want you to lose your job, alright? Sue me.”

“Spoken like a true, fake girlfriend.”

“Which I am not,” she reminds me, leaning her head against the seat to glare at me.

“Could be, though.”

“Won’t be,” she says, flashing me the fakest smile on this planet. It’s kind of hot. Not sure what that says about me. Looks like she’d destroy me and have fun doing it, and something in me wants to face that challenge.

I sniff a laugh, shaking my head. I pull my focus back to the road, letting a pocket of silence stretch between us.

I like seeing how people do in silence. I am not good at it, myself.

Not in the slightest. I think my head’s too loud to enjoy quiet.

I have to fight not to keep talking in moments like the one we’re in right now. It makes my skin crawl.

Arden seems comfortable in the silence. Acts like she belongs there. She doesn’t fidget or talk, doesn't ask to turn the music up, she just exists.

“The next right, up here,” she says about five minutes later, pointing out the window.

I was hoping she wouldn’t say that. I was hoping we’d drive straight through this part of town to another part. A different part. Literally any other part .

I don’t love this area. I’m not particularly comfortable dropping a lady off somewhere like this, especially on her own.

Can’t say that though. It’s not polite.

“Left at the blue house.”

I follow her directions, my hand tightening on the steering wheel a bit with each turn.

Fuck, I hate this area. I wouldn’t even like parking my car here, and I’m supposed to drop her off? Leave her to it? Hope that nobody breaks in and hurts her in the middle of the night?

This apartment complex is the backdrop of every murder scene in America.

“Right here.” Her tone is different now. A bit quiet. More guarded.

I risk a glance at her. She won’t look at me anymore, and I think that’s because she saw my feelings written all over my face. Her shoulders are tight, lips pressed together. Her hand is already on the door, like she’s going to bolt the second that I put this vehicle in park.

I pull up to her building and stop the car. Like I expected, she moves to leave.

“Arden, wait.”

She freezes, slowly turning to look at me with those impenetrable brown eyes.

I glance over at her apartment complex. I hate myself for it before I say it, because I know exactly what’s going to happen. I know how she’s going to react, and it’s going to shoot my plan out of the sky before it even takes flight. But I can’t let her go inside without making sure she’ll be okay.

“Are you safe here?” I ask.

Yep. Wrong thing to say entirely.

Her eyes narrow into slits. She jams her finger in the seat belt buckle so forcefully that it literally snaps off her body. “In my home? ”

“Hey,” I say, reaching for her. She jolts out of my grasp, giving me the most brutal glare I’ve ever had launched my way. I’ve faced many angry, ridiculously large hockey players in my life and those looks pale in comparison to this one. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“No?”

“No,” I repeat. “You got a security system?”

“Carter, shut up,” she snaps, and I do. My mouth literally slams shut because she has this air about her.

The kind that makes you want to listen to what she wants and give it to her.

“I know it’s not the mansions or the penthouses you’ve had the luxury of living in, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. ”

I don’t doubt that, but that’s not what I meant.

“It’s just that this is a bad area of town,” I continue, trying to explain myself.

Wrong thing to say. Again.

“My god, you’re insufferable!” she seethes, and she pushes her door open, nearly throwing herself out of the vehicle to get away from me.

She whirls around the moment her feet are on the pavement, all red hair and steam rolling off her back.

“Don’t even think about walking me to the door!

Homeless Joe might stab you on the way. He lives behind the bushes. Hates blonds.”

God, I hope that’s a joke.

I let out a long breath through my nose. “Arden.”

“Drive safe, Carter. I hope for your sake that this car is bulletproof,” she snaps, and slams the fucking shit out of my door.

I flinch, thinking about my baby and how she definitely didn’t deserve that. I pat her steering wheel to try and soothe the sting. She shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of her father .

Arden storms all the way down the small path leading to her door.

She lives in one of those buildings made up of four units, where everyone has a front door on the street that leads right into their home.

I hate that. Less security than having one main entrance that everyone has to pass through in order to get to someone’s door.

I know she told me not to walk her in, but she didn’t say I couldn’t sit here until she’s safely inside.

So, I do. I watch her march to her door, watch her glare over her shoulder at me, and for a moment, I think she’s going to stand outside until I leave—even if it takes all night.

I’d probably still sit here anyway. In a game of pissing contests, I rarely lose.

She jams her key in the lock and storms inside, slamming her front door as violently as she did my car. When I finally see the lights turn on through the little window above her door, I let out a long, deep breath.

She might be certifiably crazy.

I would know. It takes one to know one.

Hot though.

My phone buzzes, so I check it before pulling away. A small, stupid part of me thinks that it’s going to be her, choosing to continue this fight. But it’s not. It’s someone just as cute, though.

Lowesy

She seems to like you.

Me

Nope. Hates me more than she did yesterday.

Lowesy

You have a talent for fucking things up, Fork.

Me

Please, still love me.

Lowesy

Always.