CARTER
THE SUN IS warm on my face, the slight breeze ruffling my hair. A chipmunk darts out from behind a tree and stands on its hind legs, tilting its head as it looks at me. This is the third time he’s done this, like he wants something from me.
“I don’t have any food for you. I’m sorry, little buddy.”
I watch him climb a headstone only to slide down the other side of it, squeaking all the while like he’s having the time of his life. Dublin lifts his head off my lap, looking from me to the chipmunk then back again, like he wants to join in on the fun.
It’s quiet here today but I’d guess most people spend their Saturday mornings in bed, not with the dead.
Until a month ago, I’d been here once, seven-and-a-half years ago, the only day I had to be. For the most part, this isn’t where I feel my dad, and Olivia says that’s okay.
Yet here I am, sitting on a bench directly across from his grave, the same place I’ve been every day this week. Ironically, it’s been the only place I’ve found a sense of peace this week, other than in Olivia’s arms. Being at the house has been hard because it feels less like a home than it ever has. Everything is a reminder of the person missing that makes it a home.
When I woke with her cheek pressed to my chest on Thursday morning, I knew everything would be okay, but it was still hard to say good-bye, to watch her walk into that school for her last day before Cara whisked her away to the resort for some pampering. Which means the house is still empty, and Dublin and I are equally as grumpy about her absence.
So I spend my days here and at Hank’s. Hank is quiet, in the way I need rather than the way I hate. He lets me just be, lets me feel what I need to feel.
That I would have never met Hank if my dad didn’t die isn’t lost on me. I don’t know where I’d be without him; he’s consistently been there every step of the way in whatever capacity I’ve needed. He says he reads me like an instruction manual, which is exactly right. He knows what I need by the air I carry around with me when I’m with him. Sometimes it’s not what I want, but always what I need.
The time on my watch tells me I need to get home, so I stand and place my hand on the marble stone.
“I promise I’m going to make you proud, and myself. I love you.”
Dublin gives a little woof of agreement before we head back to the car, and I load him in the back. I don’t know why I bother; he hops up front the second I climb behind the wheel.
Adam’s truck is in the driveway when I get home, and he, Garrett, and Adam’s dog, Bear, are lounging on the front porch.
I had to change the lock code on my door. I get that people want to check up on me, and I appreciate it, but the constant visitors popping in and out became too much. Every time I came home it was to people sprawled out on couches, going through cupboards, eating at my counter.
It’s not necessarily that I mind, but that I’ve needed some space, a break from the voices constantly in my ear. I’ve needed to feel what I’ve needed to feel, and I can’t do that when I’m surrounded by people all the time who want to make sure I’m not feeling too much.
There was also the one photographer who followed me up the driveway postwalk with Dublin. Two hours later, there were pictures of me punching in three out of four numbers, followed by a photo of me screaming at him to get off my property. Talk about an invasion of privacy.
“When do we get lock code privileges back?” Garrett asks, following me inside.
“When you stop eating my chips when I’m not home.”
Dublin and Bear immediately engage in a wrestling match, right there in the middle of the hallway, and I make a mental note to ask Olivia if she feels like getting a second dog.
“It could be worse.” Garrett opens my pantry, pulls out a loaf of rye bread, and pops two slices in the toaster. “I could be eating your Oreos.”
“And then we’d be short a right-winger for next season.” I flail a hand toward him as he pulls out the peanut butter and jam. “Do you not have food at home?”
“Hung-wy again,” he mumbles around a spoonful of peanut butter.
Adam’s watching me, grinning.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He lifts a shoulder. “I’m just happy for you. And proud of you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I mumble. “It was Olivia.”
“That’s not true. You made the report. You put her first and you swallowed your pride and begged her to hold on while you figured it out.”
“Yeah, buddy.” Garrett smooshes his bread together and takes a massive bite, devouring half his sandwich as he slings an arm around my shoulders. “We’re proud of ya.” He snickers. “Plus, Adam was so mad when she-who-must-not-be-named called him from jail, he told her to go fuck herself and move back to Denver. Angry Adam is so rare, I cherish every moment I get with him.”
Adam’s face blazes as he rubs the back of his neck, but before he ducks his head, I catch sight of that smile, and fuck me, I smile too.
By the time the pups are with the sitter for the weekend, I’ve watched Garrett eat so much of my food that now I’m hungry too. I beg Adam to make a pit stop at McDonald’s, making sure to add something special for Hank, who’s already sitting on a bench out front of the nursing home, luggage by his feet, oversized Vipers Stanley Cup Champs hat on his head, beaming grin on his face.
“All right, fellas. I’ve got my snazziest suit ready to go, so if Cara decides to ditch Mr. Brodie at the last second, no worries; I can jump in to take his place.”
I’m fairly certain dealing with Cara on her wedding day would be enough to give my old friend a coronary. I’m worried about Emmett’s health and he’s an all-star athlete.
The wedding is at the Four Seasons in Whistler, about ninety minutes away. Cara booked the venue last summer even though they only got engaged six months ago. They’ve been planning their wedding since the day they met, though.
It sounds like I’m exaggerating. I’m not. I was there the night they met. Emmett called her Mrs. Brodie. To her face. Cara ate that shit right up and they’ve been pretty much inseparable from that day forward.
The hotel is bustling when we arrive. They’ve got something like 80 percent of the rooms rented to wedding guests. Though the rehearsal dinner tonight is only for the wedding party and immediate family, most of the guests are here for the weekend or longer.
I’m not sure if it’s off to a good or bad start when we find our way down to the reception space where Emmett’s said we can find him. He’s there, hiding in the corner with Olivia, and Cara’s walking around in a robe, slippers on, hair wrapped in a towel, screaming about fork placement and how the sunlight shining through the wall of windows is going to cause a glare on her face at the head table.
“But, Care.” Olivia takes a cautious step in her direction, but when Cara whirls around, Emmett yanks my tiny girl back to the corner with him. “It’s just that, um, it’s not even noon yet. It’ll be dinnertime tomorrow when you’re sitting here. The glare won’t be the same.” She pulls Emmett’s hand from her shoulder and steps up to the window, gesturing at the sky. “The sun will be over there, low enough in the sky that it should be a pretty shade of orange and pink by then.”
Cara blinks at Olivia. Six times. She approaches the window, gazing out, like she’s seeing what Olivia sees. Then she throws her arms around her bestie. “Oh, you’re right! Thank God.” She giggles like a hyena. “Kinda lost my head there for a minute.”
“Yeah, a minute,” Emmett mumbles, and immediately cowers back into the wall at the glare Cara shoots him. His gaze lands on the three of us, partially hidden by the door, and he tosses his head back with what sounds like a moan. “Oh fuck. Thank fucking God. I need some testosterone.”
Olivia’s entire face flushes red. She sweeps an arm out, knocking a napkin and several pieces of cutlery on the floor in a move that looks entirely intentional despite the way she claps a hand to her forehead. “Oh no. Would you look at that? So clumsy.” She drops to her knees, busying herself for way too long with picking everything up as Cara flutters across the room to us.
I had a feeling this would happen. We haven’t had much time to talk, to decide what our next step is since she’s been cooped up here with Cara for two nights already. I know what our next step is. Pretty sure she knows too. But I’d still like to get her alone so we can put this tension to rest.
“Oh goody! You’re here!” Cara kisses our cheeks before linking her arm through mine. “I’ve got big jobs for you boys. Big jobs.” She winks at me. “Nothing too big for you. You’ve got the most important job of all this weekend. Can’t have you being overworked.”
I highly doubt she’s going to cut me any slack where work is concerned, and I’m proven right when she leads us to a room filled with chairs.
She points to the stacks of chairs with white covers next to them. “I need these in the cocktail room for dinner tonight, covers on.” She points at the wooden chairs. “These you can do tomorrow morning. They’re going outside to the ceremony area.” She beckons us closer like she has a secret to tell. “Six inches between each chair. No more, no less. Got it?”
“Are you not paying somebody to do this for you?” Adam asks the question we all want answered.
“Yes, but I don’t trust them.”
Garrett’s eyes bug. “And you trust us?” He runs a hand through his hair before tugging on his T-shirt. “I don’t wanna be on the receiving end of your wrath if we fuck something up on your wedding day.”
“Do I trust you?” Drumming her fingers on her chin, Cara hums. “No, not really. But I’ll still love you after my wedding, so it’s best it’s you guys.” She grins, but it’s one of the scary ones, the kind that has us inching backward. “Plus, how hard can it be to set the chairs up perfectly? Just make me happy, that’s all I ask.” She pats our shoulders and dances away, giggling.
“I want to go home,” Adam whispers. “I’m scared.”
I clap a hand to his back. “We all are, buddy.”
Cara’s gorgeous tonight in her white lace. She’s glowing, happy and cheerful, and when she walked in here, she looked at the chairs and said “Good job, boys.”
I repeat, Cara said good job, boys. We high-fived the shit out of each other.
But it’s the stunning woman dressed in midnight blue satin with her dark hair draped down her back in big waves who I can’t take my eyes off. They follow her everywhere she goes, counting each glass of wine she brings to her lips, watching as she retrieves a piece of paper from her purse, lips moving as she reads, and then crumples it up and stuffs it away. This time though, she sighs, tosses her wine back, eyes squeezed shut, then stalks off to the bar.
To my surprise, she orders a glass of water.
I stick my chin over her shoulder as she reads her speech for the seventh time. “Just picture me naked.”
Olivia gasps, sloshing water over the bar when she jumps. She whacks me in the shoulder. “Jesus, Carter.”
“That’s the kind of reaction the sword of thunder aims to elicit when being pictured.” I lean closer, watching her cheeks flush as my voice drops. “A hint of surprise, a little bit of fear, and a fuckload of excitement.”
The corner of her mouth quirks, and before she can overthink, I pull out my phone.
“Hey,” she says softly, holding my forearm as she peeks over. “You got a new phone.”
“Uh-huh. Couldn’t see your gorgeous face through all the shattered glass.”
She smiles at the background, one I haven’t used before. She’s drowning in the bed, the blankets trying to swallow her whole, her curls a rumpled mess, but her smile as breathtaking as it’s always been.
I swipe through my photos, finding the one I took early this morning. “Dublin made you this picture,” I tell her as I drop the phone in her hand.
Dublin’s head is on her pillow, resting next to a blue pen drawing of a dog and a stick figure woman. Out of the dog’s mouth comes a speech bubble that says I miss u, Mommy. Woof!
Olivia’s entire face detonates with her bright smile, the laugh that bubbles in her throat nothing short of fucking magical. “Dublin drew this, huh?”
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “He’s a Beckett now. It only makes sense that he’d be an overachiever.”
Another laugh, and just as I consider stealing it right from her mouth, she wraps her arms around me. I hold her to me, reveling in the feeling of being so complete once again. Olivia rests her chin on my chest, gracing me with that goofy smile, and I brush my thumb over the corner of her mouth.
Adam’s voice comes over the microphone, requesting Olivia’s presence at the stand for her speech, and her face pales.
“Pretty sure my dinner’s about to make a reappearance.”
“If it does, I’ll whisk you away and hide you.” I press my lips to her nose. “You’ve got this.”
“Woo-hoo!” Cara pumps a fist through the air as Olivia takes the stage. “That’s my bestie! Go, girl!”
I see the apprehension from here, the nerves that eat at her, and when our eyes meet, I wink, and she smiles.
“They say there comes a time in everybody’s life when you meet your soul mate, the person who will love and cherish you for the rest of your life, hold you close and never let you go.”
The women in the crowd all aww and Emmett grins at Cara.
“For Cara, that day happened at seventeen when she met me.”
Emmett’s jaw drops and Cara smacks the table, hollering, “Hell yeah it did, baby!”
“I don’t know how in the world I got so lucky to land Cara as my roommate, but all five foot ten of her took one look at me, declared I was the perfect size for her to boss around, and then promptly shoved a shot of tequila into my hands. It was ten in the morning, and as terrified as I was, I knew I’d found my best friend.
“When Cara met Emmett, she came home in the middle of the night, jumped on top of me, and told me I needed to teach her everything I knew about hockey because she’d found her husband and apparently he was ‘really into hockey or something.’” Her air quotes are perfectly placed, impression of Cara spot-on. “Emmett, you asked Cara to go skating with you a total of four times before she finally agreed. That’s because I first spent three weeks teaching her to skate. At least half of that time was spent with her lying on the ice, complaining that she was too pretty to have to work so hard to impress a man.”
Cara lifts her palms and shrugs. “It’s true.”
“Emmett, Cara took one look at you and knew you were the one that was going to change her world.” Olivia’s eyes flicker to me before she licks her lips and looks down at the paper in her hands. “When you met, it was like two worlds colliding, an explosion of color. You met her wild with your calm, and you’ve drowned her in love every step of the way. The love you share has always been an inspiration to never settle for anything other than unrestrained passion, fierce obsession, a love that knows no bounds and only gets stronger every day.”
She draws in a quiet sniffle, swiping at her downcast eyes. When she looks up, her gaze meets mine. When she blinks, a single tear rolls down her cheek before she smiles at Cara and Emmett.
“A man who loves her as ferociously as you do is all I could ever ask for, for my best friend.” She raises her glass. “I know you two will live a long and happy life together, mainly because you didn’t kill each other throughout the wedding process, which is incredibly impressive considering who the bride is. I love you both endlessly.”
I watch two of my favorite people embrace my most favorite, and for the next hour I pretend like I’m not green with envy at the way Garrett and Adam and one of Emmett’s brothers keep spinning Olivia around the dance floor.
She’s sipping a glass of sparkling wine when I step up beside her.
“You look like you could use a bath.”
One dark brow lifts. “Do I? Because I was thinking I’ve gotten less than twenty hours of sleep in the last week and I desperately need to go upstairs and pass out.”
“You definitely need a bath first.”
She hides her smile behind the rim of her glass, finishing her wine before she lets me set it down. I lace my fingers through hers and tug her down the hallway, ushering her into the first elevator that opens. We ride in silence, Olivia trying to bite back her grin while I wink at her in the reflection of the mirrored walls.
“How do you know which room is mine?” she asks as I lead her to her door.
“I have connections.”
“Is your connection named Cara?”
“Hmm…” I pluck her key card from her hand, swiping it through the door. “Rings a bell, but I can’t be sure.”
Another giggle. I swear I’m living for these tonight.
“Go take your dress off,” I tell her, urging her into the room before I step into the bathroom. “I’ll run you the Carter Beckett specialty bath. Extra relaxing and all that shit.”
I crank the faucet on the bath, keeping my hand in the water until it runs nearly scalding, the way she likes it. I feel her behind me as I dump some lavender bubble bath into the water, watching it foam as it quickly fills. Standing, I turn to find Olivia in the doorway, still fully dressed, watching me.
“Naughty girl,” I tsk, crouching at her feet. I take her ankle in my hand, removing her strappy black heels one by one, and smile to myself at the way she sinks three inches, hands gripping my shoulders to keep steady. “You remember what happens to naughty girls, don’t you?”
“They get punished.” A cheeky smile crawls up her face as her eyes dance. “Over your lap or on their knees.”
I husk a laugh as I stand, though the truth is I’m not in the punishing mood. I don’t think Olivia is, either, but it’s fun to pretend, to be ourselves again. When I have Olivia next, I’m going to take my time. I’ll spend my entire night loving on her, worshipping her, and in the morning, well, she’ll still have trouble walking, but I’ll feed her breakfast in bed.
So instead, I twirl her around to find that dainty zipper.
“Can I?”
Her skin warms. “Yes.”
The zipper slides with ease, blue satin falling away and revealing the milky skin I’ve kissed every inch of, marked with love, and when it reaches the swell of her ass, I suck in a sharp breath.
I don’t mean to take it any further than this, but then I spy the mark I left on her skin with my mouth the last time we made love, right there, curving around her waist. Before I know it, I’m pulling the straps of her dress down her arms, satin slipping over her hips, pooling at her feet.
Dropping to my knees, I slide my hands into the lace on either side of her hips and press my lips to the little bruise. Olivia gasps lowly, creamy skin erupting in goose bumps as her hands find mine, holding on for dear life.
“Let go, sweetheart,” I request, and she does, letting me slip her underwear down her legs.
I want to stand before her and drink her in, all of her, appreciate every inch of the body I love. But this is about so much more than that, and I won’t rush her into this.
So I take her hand and lead her over to the tub. She steps inside, sinking down into the bubbly water, and I disappear out into the living room. I return a few minutes later, setting down a steaming mug of tea on the edge of the tub as my knees hit the plush bath mat.
“I wish you could stay, Carter.”
“So do I.” But we both know I can’t. I’m responsible for the groom tonight, and there’s a request for help from Adam waiting on my phone, an attached picture of Cara standing on a chair, Emmett looking like he’s about to catch her.
I sweep her hair over her shoulder, trailing my fingers along her skin on the way, touching the tiny freckles that decorate it. She’s beautiful, my perfect companion, like we were made at the same time, two halves of a whole meant to find and complete each other one day.
I drop my head, trying to ease the pain that’s already well-buried itself in my chest this past week. When I look up at Olivia, all I can do is try my damnedest not to cry. “I know what it’s like to live without you. That’s something I never wanted to experience.”
And I’ll be damned if I ever put either of us in that position again.
“Carter,” Olivia whispers, her fingers fluttering over my cheekbone, threading through my hair. “I want to come home.”
My heart stutters. “Yeah?”
She smiles. “Yeah.”
Her teeth tug at her bottom lip before she leans forward, pressing her mouth to mine. It’s tentative at first, slow as she tests the waters, and when my fingers sink into her hair, her mouth opens on a whimper.
It takes everything in me to pull apart, to press my lips to her forehead and stand.
“I’ll see you at the altar,” I tell her with a smile, and my heart swells at the way her face bursts like sunshine.
“Carter.” Olivia’s timid voice drifts across the bathroom, turning me around at the doorway. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Ollie girl.”
