Carter (The Harlow Brothers Book 1) Read online

  “You know that’s not what I mean. But I get it. I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have.”

  “You do?” This is news to me, but then again, Bethany hardly talks about the men she’s with.

  “Yeah, I do, but we’re not talking about me. Look, I’m headed to Theo’s for a few hours, then I’ll come over, and we can talk more. Make sure to have alcohol, I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

  I laugh, knowing she’s right. “It’s a done deal. See you later.” I hang up and set my phone back down. I tap my fingers on the counter top, thinking about what Summer and Bethany said. They each have a point about me being alone. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever meet someone I want to try and have something serious with. Yeah, it sucks being alone with no one to share my life with, but at the same time, a part of me doesn’t want to be with someone. It sounds crazy and stupid, but I’ve tried to date. It never seems to work out.

  It’s as if I’m cheating on the memories of Shelby and I created together. I just can’t seem to make myself forget anything about her. It’s a blessing and a curse, one that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get rid of, or if I even want to.

  I wake up shaking, drenched in sweat. I toss the soaked covers off my body, and get out of bed trying to clear the nightmare out of my mind. I glance at the alarm clock on the small bed side table, seeing that it says 5:30am. I run my hand through my newly dyed dark brown hair and walk quietly to the hallway bathroom. I know Annie and William will be up in a few hours for church, but I don’t want them to know I’m still having nightmares. When I first got here, they plagued me every single night. It got so bad I would wake up screaming most nights. But lately, I’ve only been getting them a few times a week.

  Opening the bathroom door, I’m grateful it doesn’t creak, as I walk to the sink. I turn on the cold water then splash my face, trying to get my racing heart to calm down. “It’s just a dream. It’s not real,” saying to myself in the mirror. Drying my face off, I repeat the mantra a few more times before it sinks in. I’m still not sure why I’m still having dreams that are so vivid I can’t tell if they’re real or not. And it’s always the same one. It never changes, and I don’t know why that is. I gaze at myself, wondering if I’ll ever fully get over what I went through with Easton, and even though I’ve gained the much needed weight back, the light in my eyes has yet to return. Most days I’m okay but I still feel lost, and I have no idea how to fix that part of me. It’s as if something is just … missing. I turn away from the mirror, trying to put a stop to my overactive thoughts, and make my way downstairs. I decide since I’m up, I’ll start making breakfast, and hopefully it’ll help wash away the nightmare. Of the hopeless feelings that try to take over, and of the past memories that blend in with my time with Easton.

  I tiptoe, trying to avoid the spots on the stairs that make the most noise, and I’m glad for the street light outside. It makes it easier to walk to the kitchen in the dark. Once I get there, I turn on the light. I squint for a moment, letting my eyes adjust, and walk towards the sink. After washing and drying my hands, I start to get everything ready to make breakfast. I don’t do this very often. Mostly because Annie refuses to let me help, but at least she’s letting me watch her cook. I know Annie loves to cook for everyone, so I don’t protest too much about it. It’s the mornings like this when I’m able to do something nice for her and William. I quickly grab everything I need to start cooking and make a mental list of things I need to do today while I whisk up the eggs.

  Sunday is the day I make sure, while Annie and William are gone to church, to clean the entire house. If either one of them are here, they make sure I can’t get anything done. I’ve been doing a good job of getting the task finished while they’re gone for a few hours. It’s my way of giving back to them for letting me stay here, and helping me get back on my feet. I’ve also been secretly paying some of the bills with the new job I got about three months ago at the Waffle House in town. I was a little disappointed when I couldn’t find an open job for my degree, but I’m happy I at least have some sort of income now. It makes me feel less guilty knowing I’m helping Annie and William, and I also have some extra money left over to put into my new savings account. While working at the Waffle House isn’t my dream job, the manager’s nice enough to let me have Sundays off, and she’s been giving me all the shifts I can get. I repeat my mental list of things to do as I turn the bacon down on low heat.

  I pour the eggs into the other pan, and when I turn around to get the toast ready, I jump and hold in a scream when I see Annie sitting at the table. “You scared me,” I say with a huff.

  “I smelled bacon, and I knew you were up. Thought I’d keep you company.”

  I nod and take in a deep breath, telling myself to calm down. I hate that I’m still so jittery at every little thing. “Want some coffee?”

  “I can make it.” While Annie busies herself with that task, I grab the bread off the top of the microwave and slather some pieces with butter. I pop them in the toaster oven as Annie asks, “Did you have another nightmare?”

  I close my eyes, hating she knows. I try to hide it, but somehow she always seems to know. The breakfast was probably a dead giveaway, since I’m never up this early unless I have a nightmare. “Yes.” I turn around, leaning against the counter, and I watch her as she pulls two coffee mugs from the cabinet above the coffee pot.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Not really. “It’s always the same one.” I hope she doesn’t push me into talking about it. I have a hard enough time forgetting after I have one.

  “It might help if you tell me. I don’t want to push you or pry but,” she sighs as she pours us coffee, then looks to me. “You’re keeping everything bottled inside. I know you don’t want to remember, and I can’t imagine what it was like with that … man.” Annie shakes her head, and she takes a deep breath. For a moment I thought she was going to cuss, or say something nasty. I’ve never heard a bad word come out her mouth. “I just want you to know you can tell me anything. I think you know by now I’m never going to judge you, and maybe if you talk about those nightmares, I can help you figure out why you keep having them.”

  I glance down at my feet, not wanting to meet her gaze. She’s right, and I know she is. It’s just hard for me to open up, it’s always been that way. Growing up, I kept a lot of my feelings hidden, and maybe it is time I change that about myself. But it’s hard to break old habits. I turn around to stir the eggs, and hear the ping of the toaster. I open the toaster door, turn it off, and leave the toast inside as I try to explain to her about my reoccurring nightmare. “It’s always the same. I don’t understand why, but it never changes. I’m always back in South Carolina, with Easton. At first he’s happy, and I feel happy again. We’re outside his home, and it’s bright and sunny out.” I swallow hard, concentrating on getting the eggs done. This is the part I hate talking about. “Things … things drastically change in the dream. I don’t know why or what I did, but his face turns dark and his eyes grow cold. The sun suddenly disappears, and I flinch when the thunder starts. I feel so afraid of him. I feel hopeless, like I don’t matter, as he starts with his hateful words.” I take the eggs and bacon off the stove, turning off the heat as I do, but I can’t turn around yet. I place the food on the counter and shut my eyes, willing the tears away. I don’t want to cry over Easton and the shit he put me through. I want to be stronger than that, and I don’t want to give him all the power anymore. “He calls me worthless. He tells me how I’ll never get anywhere without him and with each word, I shrink back. Then suddenly without any warning, he’s right in my face. He’s yelling those damning words and then …” Slowly opening my eyes as I turn around, I push myself off the counter and grab the coffee Annie poured for me. Annie watches me the entire time, and when I sit down she grabs my hand. She squeezes it hard, encouraging me to go on. I look down at my coffee mug as I say, “That’s when he backhands me and knocks me do
wn. I fall on the cold hard ground as the thunder roars above us, then the rain starts pouring down. Easton stands over me, still yelling as I hold my hand to my stinging cheek. I ask him repeatedly to stop, but he doesn’t. But that isn’t the worst part.”

  I get the courage to look at Annie, and my heart clenches when I see tears in her eyes. It kills me knowing she’s having to hear this, and there’s not a thing she could’ve done to stop it. To stop any of the bullshit I had to face on a daily basis. “Carter is there.” I watch her frown, confusion written all over her face. “I know. It’s something I can’t wrap my head around. He’s there standing off to the side. Easton never sees him, but I do. He’s twenty years old in my dream, and it’s crazy that he looks exactly like he did when I last saw him. Annie …” My voice breaks for a moment, and I run a hand through my hair. I gaze at her, and I know she can see and feel my pain. “I call for him. Every single time. I yell and plead for him. Annie, I call for him until my throat is raw and hoarse. I reach for him, begging him to help me, to save me. Easton begins to beat me, he kicks me in my ribs over and over, but my eyes never leave Carter’s. My tears mix with the rain, but the vilest part of it …” A tear slides down my face, and I quickly wipe it away. I clear my throat, trying to get a handle on my emotions. Once I feel in better control of myself, I finish telling her my dream. “Carter turns his back on me. I’m being beaten and I fear it’ll never stop, but he just walks away. And every time he does, I scream the most agonizing scream I can. Because it kills me. It’s the part when I wake up, I feel as though I’ve lost my heart and a part of my soul. I don’t understand it. I haven’t seen Carter in thirteen years. Why would I have nightmares about him now? Why would he be in my nightmares with Easton?”

  “It could be a number of reasons,” she starts. I wipe the tear that rolls down my cheek as she continues. “But I think it’s because of how you and Carter left things.” I glance down at my cooling coffee, really taking in what she’s saying. It’s possible and since I told her the entire story of why I left a few weeks ago, she would be the best one to make sense of it all. An outsider opinion is always best when trying to figure everything out. “What you and Carter had, it was special. Love like that doesn’t just go away, and knowing neither one of you had that closure. It’s no wonder why you’re dreaming about him. And thank you for talking to me about what’s going on in that head of yours.” I glance up seeing her smile, and I’m glad I told her. I do feel better about it, and I certainly have a different aspect on my reoccurring nightmare.

  “Thank you for listening. I know it’s not easy to listen to all the horrible things I went through, but I’m glad I have you to talk to again.” We sit and talk about normal things for a while, and I think it’s Annie’s way of taking my mind off my nightmare and the feelings I’m experiencing. I have to admit, I have no clue how I went so long without Annie. She’s the mother I’ve always wanted, and she does everything in her power to help me and everyone around her. I hate knowing it’s my own fault for not keeping in touch for all those years, and I know there’s nothing I can do to get them back. I can only enjoy the time I have with her and William now.

  Annie talks on and on about her new knitting club, and she gets up to refill her coffee mug. I love how she’s so animated when she talks, and I can tell she’s proud of her newfound hobby. She laughs as she tells me about some of her mishaps, and I can’t control my laughter when she talks about another lady who is just as bad. “You should’ve seen her face, it was priceless. I swear I thought she’d made a sock.” I place a hand under my chin as she says, “Poor woman. We all thought it was the smallest sock, but turns out, she was making a glove of some sort.” She laughs some more, seeming to think more of the memory.

  “Sounds like I need to stop by just to watch y’all,” I say, trying to control my laughter.

  “Oh, you’ll definitely get a kick out of it.” I watch as she turns to make her plate of almost forgotten food when she says, “I forgot to ask you. Did you ever finish that paperwork about your new social security card?”

  “Yeah. I talked to a very nice woman a few days ago, and she was more than happy to help me get everything in order to change my name back.” I’d made the decision a few weeks ago to change my last name back to my maiden name. I couldn’t have my name being Carrington any longer, and I feel it’s going to help me more in the long run to put the past behind me.

  “That’s great news. I think it’s just what you needed.” I nod, completely agreeing with her. Annie places a plate down in front of me and sits down.

  “Where’s yours?” I ask. It still amazes me how Annie always puts everyone first. It’s humbling and comforting that I know someone isn’t thinking about themselves like I’m used to.

  “I’ll eat once William decides to wake up. Go on, eat your breakfast.”

  I smile and say, “Yes, ma’am.” We sit in a comfortable silence while I eat, but I know as soon as William comes into the kitchen. It’s not the fact he made any noise, it’s the look in Annie’s eyes as she sees him. It makes my heart swell knowing how much she cares and loves him. I slowly push my plate away as William walks over to Annie and sweetly kisses her on the forehead.

  “Good morning. Smells good down here,” he says and begins to make his own plate. Annie gets up and does the same as I place my empty plate and coffee mug in the sink. I lean against the counter as they take a seat at the table, and listen to them talk about nothing in particular. I can’t help but feel like an outsider looking in when they are so wrapped up in each other. It’s not a bad feeling. It’s more of a longing, an unfilled part of me that wishes I had that. I remember having that once. Thankfully, my phone starts ringing, pulling my thoughts away from those unwelcome emotions.

  I frown as I make my way to the living room where I left my phone charging the night before. Caden thought it would be a good idea for me to have one, and I’m still undecided if it was a good idea. I went a long time without one and now, I’m more annoyed when work calls, or when Caden texts me. Since it’s still early in the morning, I already know it’s work that’s calling. And my suspicions are confirmed when I answer.

  After a few moments on the phone, I hang up and turn to Annie and William. “That was Stephanie. She needs me to work a few hours today. Do y’all mind if I use the truck today?”

  I know what William is going to say before he does. “Of course you can. I’ve told you to use it anytime you need to.”

  “Thank you. I should be back around two or three.”

  “Do you need anything from town? We’re going to stop by the store before we come home,” Annie asks. I tell her no and head upstairs to get ready for a busy shift. I already know if Stephanie’s calling me in, it’s going to be chaotic. Sunday mornings are usually the busiest, but I’m glad for the extra money. I’m also glad I know it’s going to be busy. Those hours are the best thing for me since it quietens my thoughts, and helps me get a reprieve if only for a small about of time.

  Busy isn’t the word I’d use to describe how my shift is going. More along the lines of a damn mad-house. It’s insanely busy, overcrowded, and I’ve been hiding in the back washing dishes for over two hours. Since being back home, I’ve managed to not run into anyone I knew. It’s mostly because I’ve become a hermit, choosing to stay at Annie and William’s versus taking the risk of meeting anyone I’d rather not see. But I know my hiding in the back is coming to an end as I see Stephanie looking around the restaurant. I know all the available waitresses are already filling orders left and right, and I feel bad that I’m taking the coward’s way out. On the other hand, I’d much rather stay in the back with the comfort of washing dishes. “Shit,” I say when Stephanie and I lock eyes. She all but runs to me, and I step away from my never ending pile of dishes and dry my hands off.

  “Shelby, I need you out front.” She must see the scared look on my face as she quickly adds, “Just serve coffee. We’re drowning in customers.” I nod, not wanting to go out
of my comfort bubble. She swiftly goes back out to the thick crowd, and I tighten my ponytail then put my apron on. It’s not that I have a problem taking orders, I would just rather not be around all these people. It makes me remember the times when Easton would make me go with him to all those boring charity events just to show off. It was his thing to let everyone know how successful he was, and how much of a Stepford wife I’d become.

  I don’t want to be reminded of that shit.

  But no matter what I feel, I need this job, and I’ll do whatever I need to so I can keep it. At least until something better comes along. I suck in a long and much needed breath, and make my way behind the counter. It’s like a maze with so many workers, but I manage to get to the coffee makers unscathed. Once prepared, I put on a fake smile and start making rounds to the occupied tables and booths. I nod and politely speak only when necessary trying to hurry, and make everyone happy with getting their morning caffeine buzz.

  Hours later, my feet and legs are killing me. No matter how many times I poured coffee or got something for the customer, it was never ending. Most days when I work, I’m in the back not really dealing with the needy customers, and I already wish I could go back in my hole. I did sneak away for a few moments for a bathroom break, but now it’s time for me to get back to it. I look up at the clock, and sigh loudly when I notice it’s barely after twelve. I quickly glance around the corner, seeing more people making their way inside. It’s as if everyone decided they had to come eat here of all days. People are beginning to crowd at the front counter, getting a seat wherever they can. I can feel my heart beginning to race, and the urge to run. I don’t do very well with crowds anymore, and I clench my jaw reminding myself I have to have my job. I can’t very well run out the door and still expect to get paid. I push the uneasy feeling down as I walk behind the counter again to make more coffee. I bump into a few workers, and almost fall flat on my face trying to avoid being burned by the cook swinging around a hot plate. It’s like an obstacle course just to get a mere five feet to my destination.