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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

carter

Arden and I have officially made it through one month of pretending to be in a relationship.

It was technically not a full month, but I’m counting it as one.

She’s stuck it out for me like a champ, and this arrangement is working wonderfully, apart from the no sex thing.

I hadn’t realized how much I used sex to blow off steam, but now that I’m not having any of it, I’m more than aware that it was a crutch I leaned on.

My hand is cutting it for the time being, but I’m not quite sure how long that will last.

On the plus side, the guys love Arden. Every time I show up somewhere with her on my arm, I get warmer greetings than they ever give me when I show up solo.

Tom’s a bit standoffish toward her, but I imagine that’s because Morgan is in there, poisoning his mind.

He just avoids speaking to her altogether.

He’s an odd duck on a good day, anyway. Not my favourite teammate.

Plus, I’d rather him say nothing at all than say something that will make me have to hit him.

Boston watches us way too carefully for my liking.

I don’t typically lie to him, but Declan and Penny knowing the truth are already way too many people with the inside scoop.

I trust Boss, I just feel like the more people who know, the easier it’ll be to slip up.

He hasn’t said anything to me about her, but I don’t think he’s buying it.

I haul her around and pretend we’re together, and he bites his tongue and says nothing.

That’s Boss.

The public is eating this up. They’re on my side, posting pictures of me getting arrested and then photos of me walking with her to these banging songs. Like it’s understandable that I hit someone in her honour.

Collin has been quiet, which is a small blessing that might not last forever, and because of all that, the public tide is quickly turning away from what I did to who I’m with.

I couldn’t have planned it better.

Now, it’s the beginning of November, which means she’s spent the better part of October showing up for me.

My turn.

I lock the G-Wagon and head to her front door.

I’m using this as one of my three days, even though we won’t be doing much besides cleaning up the loose ends of our deal for the month.

I take up enough of her time as is, and the last time we went out with everyone, she looked so exhausted that I left the bar early and took her home to Stinky.

I knock on her door, and it flies open like she had been waiting on the other side.

I arch a brow. Her red hair is on the top of her head and she’s in this fucking sinful little outfit. Shorts and a matching short-sleeved top, both white with cherries all over them. As if her in white isn’t already an image I picture every time I close my eyes.

Worst of all? She has those thick-rimmed black glasses perched on the very tip of her freckled nose .

This looks like the start of a dirty movie.

“Is this you cashing in on rule four point five?”

She blinks up at me, and fuck—if that expression doesn’t seem incredibly more seductive when she looks like this .

Realization dawns on her face. “What? No . Why?”

I gesture to her outfit.

“These are pajamas,” she says sternly.

I cock a brow. “The hottest pajamas on earth, or what?”

She stares at me, pushes her glasses up her nose, and gives me a look. “It’s a shirt and shorts.”

She’s right. Technically. The shirt covers her chest and ends at the top of her bicep. It stops around her midriff, and those shorts sit high on her hips, but I can still see a sliver of her stomach and the entirety of those freckled legs. The messy bedhead is just fuel to the fire.

“Feel free to wear those more often,” I say, cracking a smile.

She rolls her eyes and pushes open the door, letting me through. I glance at the coffee table, littered with papers. She has another well-organized list resting on a pillow, with calculations and numbers scribbled in different colours. The house smells like lemon and bleach.

When she shuts the door behind us, she lets out a huff of breath that has me looking back at her. It’s a heavy sound, like she’s about to pull the rug out from under my feet.

I tense up. I’m not ready for her to terminate this deal. It’s going far too well to call it quits right now.

She swallows. “Carter, it’s a lot more than I thought.”

I relax a bit. That’s not a death sentence. That’s a manageable worry. As in, I don’t give fuck about the money.

I gesture to her work. “Let’s go through it.”

“I don’t think I can ask you to do this.”

“Red,” I say sternly, striding toward her. I reach up to cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me with that pouty mouth. I shake her head gently between my hands. “Relax, okay? Just give me a total.”

She pushes that bottom lip out and, motherfucker, I truly wish I was here for rule four-point-five. Universe? If you’re still listening, please align our birthday charts together and tell me that it ends in real sex with my fake girlfriend.

“It’s thirty-two thousand.”

Steep, but I had assumed it would be more. I nod. “Okay. Will it be thirty-two thousand every month?”

If it is, I still won’t care.

She shakes her head in my hands. “No, I had to pay for his transfer to the new home, but then there were deposits involved in the move. It just gets out of hand so quickly. This isn’t even touching the debt from before. I can ask Serena and Anya to?—”

“Red,” I say again, dropping my hands from her face. “Just show me how to pay these bills, okay?”

Her lip wobbles a bit, and she shakes her head again. Her voice comes out in this sad, broken little whisper. “It’s too much, Carter.”

The only thing going through my head right now has nothing to do with the bills or how much they will cost me.

It’s about how fucking bad I want to kiss that mouth.

I’ve kissed it. Multiple times now. But never for real.

I have a feeling Arden’s real kisses are way better than her fake ones.

I bet they move mountains or some shit. I want to find out for myself.

The money has never been a concern for me. It was the easiest part of this arrangement.

“How much are we expecting per month?”

“He needs to be in a home. He needs a one-to-one caregiver. It’s going to be in the high thousands.” Her lip shakes again.

“That’s fine,” I say with an easy smile. I reach up to place a hand on the side of her neck. I’m trying to ground her, if she’d fucking let me. “Just tell me how to pay them. I’m not worried about it.”

Her eyes shut. I don’t want her to cry, but she’s teetering on the edge of a full-blown meltdown. It’s become very obvious that nobody takes care of Arden. Nobody has since her mom was around. She’s not used to this. She doesn’t want to let me do this for her, but tough shit—I’m doing it anyway.

I lean down and press my mouth to her head as I wind my arm around her back and give her a little squeeze. She melts into me, sucking in a trembling breath that might be the only thing stopping her from crumbling in my arms.

We go through the bills for the month, and since Arden is an organized little thing, I’m fully aware that something is amiss here.

When she gets up to pour us both a glass of wine, I open one of the coffee table drawers and find what I was expecting.

Colour-coded file folders that make up the total of her outstanding bills.

For the month, her dad’s medical bills might be thirty-two thousand dollars, but she has outstanding bills that are nearing two-hundred thousand dollars, and that’s with what crappy insurance her father has in place.

I feel my stomach clench at the red ‘past due’ stamps on some of these pages, but I can see where she’s made the minimum payments to keep the debt collectors off her back.

I skim the blue folder and stifle a sigh.

Student loans. Another crisp thirty-five thousand that she’s only managed to pay back two grand on since she graduated.

Again, the minimum payments are being made, but the interest is seriously screwing her.

I take out my phone and snap pictures of the documents.

I hear a cabinet shut somewhere in the kitchen, so I quickly shove the folders back in the drawer and close it. I grab her hand-made list and pretend to study it.

When she passes me the glass of red wine, I glance up at her.

She already gave me all the relevant phone numbers and paperwork, and she told me that she advised the office that I might be calling and handling the finances for the next little while. It’ll make it easier. Less red tape to cut through.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about that blue folder.

I look at her and see a woman who is so sure of herself, who is tough beyond measure.

Yet, she’s suffocating under the weight of all this shit and she refuses to ask for help.

I had to bulldoze my way into her life and practically force her to accept this.

I can’t imagine all the other crap that she keeps to herself, stuff that I’m unaware of.

I don’t want her to have to worry about money anymore.

She already has to worry about her dad and about taking care of her sisters.

She should be able to just exist as a woman in her late twenties, enjoying life without all this additional stress on her shoulders.

She should be worried about what colour drapes she’ll get, moving out of this area, or where to go on vacation. She deserves that.

“You can back out, Carter,” she says, crossing her legs. She must have taken my silence as hesitancy. “I won’t hold it against you.”

I lean back against the couch and place my wine on the table. “I still need a faux girlfriend, Red.”

She shoots me a look, but her lip pulls upward into a soft smile.

I might not have known her for long, but I know her all the same.

This has to be a business transaction. This is an opportunity that is equally beneficial for both of us.

That’s how she needs me to play this so that she’ll accept it. So, I will.

“How is it? ”

I glance at her. “How is what?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip, holding her wine glass close to her chest. “Having money? What’s it like?”

I press my lips together, eyes skirting over her face. I wish I could lie to her. I wish I could tell her that money ruins the greater things in life, that it doesn’t impact the very fabric of who you are, that it doesn’t change much besides the material stuff that makes life a bit more fun.

But that’s a lie. Money makes everything a hell of a lot easier. It’s the cheat code for life. Money can buy you a lot of things, and I truly believe happiness is one of them. Anyone who tells you differently is lying to your face.

It could have paid off her dad’s bills years ago.

It could have given her a much nicer, much safer place to live.

It could have allowed her to take some days off.

“I’ve lived a very comfortable life,” I tell her, and she rests her chin on her knee, listening. “Money is a blessing. I’ve never wanted for much. Always had a bank account to fall back on. Not waking up every morning having to fight to make ends meet is a luxury I know I’m lucky to have.”

She swallows and looks down at her red painted toes.

“I’m sorry life has been so hard for you, Red.”

Her eyes flutter shut at that. Her shoulders droop, like those words had weight.

“You are a remarkable woman. Money or no money.”

Her gaze snaps up to mine, that plump bottom lip wobbling again. With a weighted sigh, she brings her wine to her lips and takes a big, long gulp.

“It just feels like I’m never going to get to live , you know?”

I watch her. She fidgets with her feet and the stem of her wine glass, but doesn’t look at me.

I don’t push her, I know she’s gearing up to talk.

To get whatever she wants to say off her chest. She might not realize it, but she’s taking me up on the deal I made with her in the car.

If she’s ready to scream, I’m ready to listen.

“I imagined being in my twenties and spending my money on concert tickets for the artists that I love, throwing it at passion projects, travelling the world before I have more responsibilities.” She pauses, swallows, and looks up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“I just didn’t expect to have so many responsibilities before leaving middle school. ”

I lean my head back against the couch and listen.

“I was burying my mom before I ever buried feelings for a boy. I was being belittled and bullied by my father before I was being picked on at school. I was stressing out about money before I was even old enough to make any.”

Fuck.

She sucks in this big, shaky breath and breathes out a broken laugh.

“I was a woman before I was ever allowed to be a girl, Carter.” Her tear-filled eyes meet mine, and I force a sad smile. I don’t understand what she’s been through, but I believe her. “I mourn for that little girl every single day of my life.”

Yeah, that’s all I can handle being this far away from her.

I run my hand over my face and skirt down the couch.

She’s on the loveseat, but I don’t give a shit.

I take her hand, pull her off it, and sit myself down.

I tug her onto my lap, and remarkably, she lets me.

She puts her wine glass on the side table and, with no prompting, winds her arms around my neck.

I hold her because she needs it, and after hearing that, I want to.

“I wish I could go back in time and change that for you,” I tell her, and it’s true.

I hate that this insanely strong woman was born from such a tormented and mistreated little girl.

“ And I’m not going to pretend to get it, because I don’t, but I will tell you one thing.

I’m allowed to, by the way, because I grew up with two of the best women in the world. ”

Mom and Ari. The whole reason my heart beats in my chest.

“I know good women when I meet them. You’re a good woman, Red. A fucking incredible one. An amazing sister. And even if you don’t think so, the best daughter in the world.”

She shakes against me, so I hold her tighter, letting her hide her face over my shoulder.

“And your mom would be so proud of you.”

That’s what does it.

I physically hear her heart break. It explodes inside her and comes out of her mouth in the most daunting and painful cry. She shakes her head, clinging to me like she’ll bottle all this back up again if she doesn’t. I think she’s desperate to feel it this time. In a place where she’s safe.

So we sit there.

I stare at those bills on the table, and she lets out tears she’s been holding in since she was eleven.