CARTER
HOPE IS one of those funny things, kind of like time.
Time either races or drags; I find there’s no in between. When things aren’t going the way you want them to, time stands still. You feel stuck, rooted in place, and your feet won’t lift to take the steps you need to move in the direction you want to go. These past twelve days, I’ve wanted one of two things: to either get the girl or get over the girl. The former was preferable, but with each day that dragged on, I would’ve taken either just to get rid of the heavy cloud hanging over my head.
And then she fucking smiled at me, and it’s like somebody hit the button on a stopwatch and time restarted, flew forward. Now I’m racing into the weekend, eager to see her.
Hope works the same way. Everything feels slow and dark without hope, a little like a night that never really ends while you search for the daylight, waiting for it to come.
And then suddenly you see her, the bright beam that blooms on her face, the way her chocolate eyes gleam as they lock with yours from across the room, and everything changes. The door swings open, showing you the sunshine outside, the hope, and you step right into it, feeling the warmth that touches your skin like the heat of her stare.
I’m still not a superfan of this brutal, biting cold, though.
“Why the fuck couldn’t we stay in your apartment?” I whine to Hank. “It’s too cold to be outside.”
“Dublin needs exercise.” His fingers tighten over my forearm as we amble down the street. “And you, quite frankly, need to quit all this bitchin’ you’ve been doing. This is why I always say that Jennie is the superior Beckett sibling.”
“Superior Beckett sibling, my ass,” I mutter, guiding Hank down to a bench in Stanley Park.
I’ve known Hank for over seven years now. We came across each other purely by chance, or so it seemed, at a time when I needed him most. He stopped me from making a mistake that could’ve fucked my life beyond repair and ended my career before it had really gotten started, and he’s been a constant ever since, one of my best friends despite the nearly sixty-year age gap. He’s my family, and there’s never been a part of me that hasn’t appreciated how lucky I am to have him in my life.
“You haven’t been yourself lately,” Hank speaks quietly, raising his coffee to his lips.
I stare out at the English Bay. The bitter winter we’ve been graced with so far has turned the water into sleek blue ice, and under the bright sun, all it does is glitter. I take a sip of my coffee, the hot liquid heating me as it goes down. “Not really.”
“Got that girl on your brain. The pretty brunette.”
I glance at him, a smile on my lips. There’s no point in asking him how he found out about Olivia; he keeps more tabs on me than the paparazzi. “I do.”
“You sleep with her?”
I huff a chuckle. “How the hell do you know that?”
His smile is proud, knowing. “You’re a manwhore, Mr. Beckett. You sleep with everyone.”
“Hey.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Play nice, old man.”
Hank chuckles, scrubbing a shaky hand over his jaw. “I can tell you like her.”
“I do.” Too much, probably. Too soon. I don’t know. Is this how this goes?
He gives Dublin’s ears a ruffle. “So, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I’m a manwhore who sleeps with everyone.”
Hank’s silence gives way to a too-broad grin. “Are you sure it’s not your ugly mug?”
I laugh, giving my head a shake. “I’m nice to look at and you know it.”
The week after we met, Hank asked if he could touch my face. He said it was something he liked to do to put a face to the voice. He also said he wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I still remember the impressed sound he made before he told me my features were perfectly symmetrical. When I laughed, his fingers slid across my dimples and he said, Ah. Dimples. That’s why you’re so popular with the ladies. But the best part? As soon as he was done, he told me the face-touching bit was a bunch of bullshit that Hollywood threw into movies to romanticize the visually impaired, and I’d fallen for it without a second thought. Not only was I pretty but gullible too.
“The lady on the sports channel says you’re the hottest thing since sliced bread. I think she must be blinder than I am.”
My chin hits my chest with my deep chuckle, and when I sigh, I skim my teeth across my lower lip. “Do you think her leaving was a sign that I’m better off alone?” The words taste foreign and sour, though up until a month ago I had no intention of ever wanting more.
Hank snorts. “I don’t believe that you’re actually such a cynic when it comes to love. You’ve got a big heart. You don’t really want to be alone the rest of your life, do you?”
“For a while there, I kinda thought I did,” I admit.
“That’s no way to live your life. You’re a good kid, Carter. You have a lot to offer someone, and while it’s important to be able to be happy on your own, having another person to amplify that happiness, to share it with along with all the other special moments, that’s what life’s all about. That’s where it really starts to get fun.”
“I might hurt her.” As angry as I’ve been with her walking away, as confused as I’ve felt, I understand too. I haven’t given her much of a reason to trust me. I’ve pursued her relentlessly and taken whatever bits of her she was willing to give up each time, and then when I decided I wanted her for more than one night, I expected her to take me at face value. I never gave her the certainty she wanted, the security she needed. I just asked her to close her eyes and jump.
“Hurting someone and getting hurt are risks you take in love.”
My head rolls over my shoulders with a groan. “Stop saying that word.”
Hank smiles, clapping a hand down on my knee. “I love saying love. It’s my favorite word.” He claps my knee. “So tell me why today is different.”
“Different? What do you mean?”
“Well, we covered why you haven’t been yourself lately, but today? Today you’re a little bit more yourself.”
My chest expands as I think about yesterday, how I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the confirmation that my feelings were very real stacked behind the way my entire body buzzed at her proximity, the way I longed to just fucking…touch her. Brush my knuckles along her cheekbone, lace my fingers through hers. Anything.
“I saw her last night. Only for two minutes, but she smiled at me. Three times she smiled at me. And she let me open the car door for her, and she waved good-bye, and I…I think that’s good, right? I think it means she might give me a chance. Do you think she’s gonna give me a chance?”
Hank chuckles softly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. It’s not only the girl that needs to give you a chance; it’s yourself. So, tell me…you gonna win her back?”
I grin at him, squeezing his hand. “Do I ever lose?”
“Not typically, no, as much as I hate to admit it. I’ve never met a more pompous man.”
“You love me.” I’m still grinning like a jackass and I know he can hear it.
Hank sighs. “I do. And I’ll love you more if you add another beautiful lady to my life.”
“I’m trying. I promise.”
“Well, try harder. The Carter Beckett I know fights for what he wants and doesn’t take no for an answer.” He twists my way, those hazy blues drifting over me. “Unless you’ve gone soft. Have you gone soft, Carter?”
“Hell no.”
“Then get your ass in gear and get your woman.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
“I’m blind in both eyes. I don’t wear a patch.”
“What? I wasn’t—forget it.” I wave him off. He’s ridiculous, making us a perfect pair. “You’re unreal.”
“You love me,” he parrots my words back to me.
“I do.”
“Then you’ll get me Thai food for dinner tonight and make that girl your woman.”
I salute Dublin, who cocks his adorable golden head at me, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “Thai food and a saucy, mistrusting woman, coming right up.”
It’s just before seven as I stand out on the cold, dark street, looking up at the theater. It’s a Friday night, which means the place is packed, and I’m kicking myself for being here. Going to the movies in public seemed worth it when Olivia was going to be sitting beside me, but now I’m alone, and it hits me for the first time that alone isn’t at all what I want to be.
And yet here I am anyway, and I don’t know why. Maybe I was holding onto hope that things would get sorted in time for our first date, that she would still show up. That I would get to sit next to her and whisper irritating things in her ear and make her laugh, and when it was good and dark, I’d slip my hand around hers, lace our fingers together and feel the way she’d melt into me.
I don’t know.
Instead, I pull my toque over my head and walk through the front doors, hoping nobody notices me.
“Just the one?” the kid behind the counter asks as he scans the ticket on my phone. “You’ve got two tickets there.”
I slip my fingers up the side of my toque, scratching my head. “Yeah, um—”
“Two, please and thank you.”
I twirl at the soft voice, and my heart tries to escape out my throat when my gaze lands on the tiny brunette who’s been occupying every free bit of space in my head. She peers up at me from beneath her thick lashes, her stare unsteady, unsure, but hopeful.
She licks her lips and takes a tentative step forward, hands wringing at her stomach, and when she opens her mouth to say something, I beat her to it.
“You came.”
A beam like sunshine explodes across Olivia’s face, and I swear she’s radiating from the inside out.
“Hi, Carter.”
