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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

arden

I stumble out of bed because I smell bacon.

I jolted awake with the fear that I had tried to cook something last night and forgotten it on the stove. But when I heard rustling and someone singing softly to themselves, I remembered it was a faux date night last night. I got drunk. On tequila. Carter brought me home.

Apparently, Carter didn’t leave.

I’m not used to other people being in my house.

I’m also not used to being hungover on tequila.

I groan, my temples pounding with the pain brought on by the cursed adult juice.

I emerge into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes. He’s still wearing the same clothes from last night, unpacking a bunch of food from take-out containers like he’s navigated his way around this apartment hundreds of times. It unnerves me how at home he looks.

His gaze snaps up to meet mine. “Morning, drunky pants.”

I wince, his voice sounding a bit too loud for the current state of my brain. “You stayed over? ”

He slows, a flash of uncertainty on his face. “Yeah…I hope that’s okay. You were drunk, and I didn’t want to leave you.”

I lean against the wall, squinting at him through the light. “Today isn’t one of your days, though.”

“Ah, you’re mistaken. This isn’t ‘faux boyfriend’ Forkerro in your house, unboxing your breakfast. This is ‘real friend’ Forkerro.”

Is that so?

“We’re friends now?” I ask. Unlikely.

He shoots me a look, one that’s paired with those stupid eyes that make it hard not to cave. “Don’t insult me. Once my mouth has touched yours, we’re friends.”

I bark a laugh. “You must have many friends, Mr. Forkerro.”

He makes a mocking face, but starts piling food onto plates anyway.

My stomach grumbles at the smell. I feel like I haven’t eaten in three days, but I vividly remember shovelling nuggets in my mouth at record speed last night.

That’s a talent of mine. I’m The Nugget Destroyer.

There was ketchup, too. Lots of it. My favourite.

I pull out one of the chairs at my small kitchen table and slide into it, watching him unpack each box while I hold my head up with the heel of my hand.

We eat together, at the table I never sit at, and talk as effortlessly as real friends would. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we are friends now. He isn’t the worst company, and he forces me to have fun, which I don’t typically let myself do. Maybe he’s good for me.

Not good for my headaches, though.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says when we’re done, getting to his feet to box up the food. He starts loading my fridge with the leftovers, and I don’t argue. I’ll eat that shit for days with a smile on my face.

“Thank you for breakfast,” I say, standing to walk him out .

He flashes a wink over his shoulder, shutting the fridge door. He steps forward then, his hand going to my bicep, walking right into my space. He presses a kiss to my forehead like it’s routine. Like he does something that sweet every day.

I’m stunned into a full-blown stillness as he vanishes from the room. I ignore the stupid feeling in my stomach that stirs awake at such a simple gesture. It’s been a while since I’ve had any male attention remotely close to this. It’s just my body reacting before my brain. That’s all.

Again, maybe he’s good for me.

I follow him to the front door, about to remind him I’m starting a string of night shifts, but my eyes catch on the edge of the coffee table and I stop dead in my tracks.

The corner of his face peeks up at me from one of the skewed papers in the pile, smiling and proud.

My throat goes dry.

Carter shoves his feet into his shoes and turns, pausing when my eyes snap back up to him.

His gaze drifts to the pile of his past discrepancies, all of those sins he committed before we knew each other.

He offers the saddest, most disappointed smile I have ever seen.

Shrugs a bit, as if it’s totally normal to find a case file about you in someone else’s home.

I feel like I just kicked a doberman puppy.

“Carter,” I whisper, stepping toward him, a plea in my voice.

“I hope you didn’t find what you were looking for,” he says, shrugging again. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, Red.”

“Carter, wait?—”

He smiles at me, no teeth and no sparkle in his eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

Then, he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

But he’s wrong. It is a big deal.

“Shit,” I hiss, running my hand over my forehead .

I’m too hungover for this.

I race back to my room, rip my phone off the charger, and call Whitney as fast as humanly possible. Autumn’s working today, so Whit’s my only option for quick advice. It takes way too many rings, but she finally answers, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Whit,” I say quickly.

“Hold on, I’m at the gym,” she says. “If I’m gasping for air, it’s because cardio is the devil.”

“I fucked up.”

A pause.

“What happened?”

“With Carter.”

“Shit,” she mutters. “How bad?”

“Noah showed up at the hospital the other day with a file folder on him,” I say, and Whitney lets out a long sigh. “I had it here and Carter slept over. He saw his entire criminal history just lying on my coffee table, like that’s what I choose to read before bed or something.”

“Hang on, hang on!” Whitney interrupts. “ Slept over? Did you fuck him? Oh, don’t look at me like that, sir. Are you afraid of women being sexually active?”

I slap my hand onto my face. Normally, I’d find this all funny, but my heart is racing and I feel horrible for that look I put on Carter’s face.

“No, I was just drunk, so he slept on the couch,” I grumble. “Shit, Whit. How bad does this look?”

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” she says. “If you explain the truth of it, I’m sure he’ll understand. Noah sticks his nose in our business more than he should. Remember Pete? Noah would pull him over every time he saw his car on the road and give him a hard time. He’s a fucking pest. ”

“I shouldn’t have taken it. I should have just told Noah to get fucked.”

“I mean, he did break a guy’s nose when he barely knew you,” Whit counters.

“We’re women. There is nothing wrong with a little background check.

If someone’s going to murder us, it’s going to be a man.

Statistics are even higher if that man has a violent past or if he’s romantically involved with us. ”

Okay, that’s true, but I still hated that expression on his face.

He looked at me like he expected more of me.

Like I was the one person who didn’t stare at him like he was some violent fiend who can’t stop hitting people for fun.

Like I was the one person who finally understood him.

Or, like he was disappointed in himself for being someone who scared me enough to have those papers in my home. That one hurts even worse.

“I have to go.”

Because he’s not. He doesn’t scare me.

“Okay, text me.”

I hang up and immediately dial Carter.

He answers quickly. “Hello?”

“Carter.”

“Red.”

“Can you come back here?”

He pauses for a second. “Is something wrong?”

I run my hand through my hair. “Are you too far? Just…quickly. Can you swing back around?”

“Arden, what happened?”

“Nothing, I just…If you don’t have somewhere to be. Please.”

“I’ll be five minutes.”

I’m waiting on the curb when his G-Wagon pulls up. He gets out of the car and walks around it quickly, dark glasses on his face, brow furrowed in concern .

“Arden—?” He pulls the sunglasses off his nose to gauge what’s wrong.

I launch myself at him. I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him in a very real, very vulnerable way.

It’s the only thing that feels like the right thing to do.

Carter freezes completely for a moment, stunned by the initiation of contact, but after a breath, he winds his arms around my back and squeezes me gently to his chest.

“I know you’re a good person,” I say quietly, my voice trembling. “Noah does that for any guy me and the girls get involved with. I didn’t see anything in there that scared me, and I don’t think you’re the same person you were when you were younger. Okay?”

His hands still on my back.

“Red, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I say, pulling back. I study his face, grateful to see a bit of relief in the lines around his eyes. “I didn’t like the look on your face when you left. Carter Forkerro being sad made me feel sad. I physically never want to see that from you again.”

“I’m not sad. I get it,” he says, huffing a laugh. “Fake or not, you’re spending a lot of time with me. I think Noah had ill intentions with that gameplay, but I don’t blame you. Hell, I’m happy you’re someone who would look into a guy’s history. That’s important.”

I frown. “Ill intentions?”

“Yeah,” he says, stepping back and burying his hands in his pockets. “Noah is purposely inserting himself into your love life. It was clear that night at Icebox and it’s clear based on those papers that he doesn’t want you with me. I don’t think he wants you with anyone, to be quite frank.”

I stare up at him. He doesn’t know Noah, so he doesn’t get it. It’s not like that. Never has been .

“If you’re into him, that might sound charming, but I’d be careful,” he says, his smile slowly dwindling. “I might punch stupid people who do stupid things, but that kind of shit is controlling and borderline stalking, Red. That’s the actual threat.”

“I’m not into Noah,” I tell him. Not at all.

“Alright,” he says with a nod. “But Noah is into you. Just…keep that in mind.”

He does the same thing with Whitney and Autumn. I don’t think he’s into me, I just think he’s…protective, in a different way than Carter is.

“Are we fighting?” I ask quietly.

Carter’s face cracks with that beaming grin I missed seeing on his face for the ten minutes that it was gone. “What?”

“Is this our first fight as a faux couple?” I ask again, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Because I don’t like this feeling.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“Okay.” I dip my chin and let out a little breath. “That’s good.”

“Did you call me back here to make sure we weren’t fighting?”

“No, I called you back here to apologize.”

He arches a brow. “Funny. I don’t think I heard the words ‘ I’m sorry .’”

I glare up at him, but he’s smiling again and it’s contagious. He reaches forward, tucks a strand of red hair behind my ear, and lowers his head until we’re eye level. He scoops my face in his hands and holds it gently between his palms.

“I accept your apology, Mrs. Faux Forkerro.”

I grimace. “Well, I’m thinking about taking it back now.”

He barks out a laugh. “Too late. No givesies backsies. ”

“Yeah, I’m definitely taking it back. Apology revoked,” I decide, nodding between his hands.

“Not the way it works,” he chides, shaking his head.

“I’m not sorry anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He smiles, dropping his hands from my face. He takes a few backward steps toward his vehicle, his smile bright and back to normal.

“I’ll see you in a few days?” I ask, and there’s a hopeful twinge in my voice that I loathe. After three night shifts and one away game.

He flashes me a wink, nods, and pulls his sunglasses onto his face. “Counting down the seconds, girlfriend!”