Prima Donna (17 page)

At the same time, he’d no sooner get on the highway to head down to St. Mark’s, and he’d start counting the minutes until Monday morning rolled around and he could see her again.

Damn
.

The other day when he’d crouched by her chair, he couldn’t think of anything else except how much he missed her, how much he wanted to be with her—and not just in bed. He wanted to take her for another ride on his bike, to sit next to her and eat grilled-cheese sandwiches, and to feel the way her whole body melted against him when he kissed her.

And holy mother of the sweet baby Jesus, he wanted to kiss her.

He’d been so distracted, crouched next to her that day, he let her scroll by Smith’s name twice before he even noticed, and when he finally stood to leave, he couldn’t help it, he had to touch her. It was selfish, but that’s what he was; always had been, always would be.

The second he got off the phone with Jules last night, all that mattered was getting to her. He didn’t give a shit that Jules told him she was fine or that Regan had a rule about sleepovers. Until he could see her, touch her, and know for himself that she was okay, nothing else mattered.

But when he finally got to her apartment…
ugh
…it was nothing short of torture. He couldn’t touch her, he couldn’t kiss her, and he sure as hell couldn’t climb under the quilt and hold her all night like he wanted to.

So instead, he’d climbed up on the bed beside her and kept watch, which might have sounded like a stupid thing to do, but he knew she’d tell everyone she was fine and that she didn’t need anything, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone when she was sick.

It was only the flu, and plenty of people managed through it alone all the time. He knew this; he also knew he was only asking for trouble by staying and a couple times he even tried to leave. He made it as far as the kitchen once, but then she’d moaned between snores, and he couldn’t do it. Instead, he climbed right back up on the bed beside her and forced himself to play Angry Birds—it was the only thing he could think of that would keep both his hands busy.

A good guy would have been long gone before she woke up, so it would at least look like he hadn’t spent the night, but once again, his selfishness won out. He wanted to see her first thing in the morning, half hoping she’d be such a troll that he wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of her. After all, she’d told Katie it took work to look the way she did.

She lied.

Even standing there in that ugly old robe, her hair looking like she’d walked through a category-four hurricane and her nose all red and raw, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Carter pushed off the wall and headed straight over to his cousin’s. Jayne was singing along to what was supposed to be a Springsteen song, but the way she sang it…yikes. She barely even blushed when he walked in, but at least she turned it down a little.

“Hey, Carter. Want some breakfast?”

“Mind if I use your shower first? Been kind of a long night.”

Jayne just waved him off down the hall to the room he’d used so many times before, where he always left a clean change of clothes, and where, thanks to Nick’s dad, there was always a couple dozen new toothbrushes laying around.

By the time he made it back to the kitchen, she’d poached him up a couple eggs and set them on the table with toast and coffee. She and Nick were so busy making eyes at each other, they didn’t even hear him walk into the room until he pulled his chair out.

“Oh. Hey.” Nick cleared his throat and grinned, first at Jayne, then Carter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Thought maybe you could use some help today.” A couple hours of swinging a hammer or doing some other kind of grunt work was usually all he needed to clear his head.

“Hell, yeah,” Nick said. “Kyle’s down with the flu and Delmar had to take Sharice into the city, so if you could help me hang drywall today, that’d be great.”

“I thought you subbed that out.”

“Normally I do, but after Judy Schwann told the Gilleys I boarded her house, they insisted I do it for them, too.”

“Good ol’ Judy,” Carter muttered. “That’ll teach you for being such a pushover.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Nick downed the rest of his coffee and carried his mug over to the sink. “I gotta go see a man about a horse, and then we’re outta here, so eat up.”

Jayne stayed at the table with him, rolling her mug between her palms. “I ran into Jules last night, she says Regan got sick yesterday.”

Carter nodded, reaching for another piece of toast.

“I can’t believe I’m asking this,” she said. “But would you please go check on her today? Jules said it was just the flu, but I’d feel better if you’d go—”

“She’s okay.”

“How do you know?”

He took a bite of the toast, more for show than anything, but it might as well have been sand for all he tasted it. “I went over there last night—relax, I was just making sure she wasn’t bullshitting everyone and it wasn’t something serious.”

“How’s she doing?” Jay’s brow furrowed. “Wait a minute. You went over there last night?”

“Mm-hmm.” He hated that look; the one where he could almost see the pieces falling into place inside her brain, and no matter how much he hoped she’d leave it alone, he knew she wouldn’t.

“But you work a twenty-four-hour over Friday and Saturday, so how could you—”

“I called someone in to cover for me,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed squarely on his mug. “No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Jayne reached across the table and snapped her fingers in front of his face until he looked up at her. “But you
never
call someone in; you don’t miss shifts.”

“Yeah…well…” What was he supposed to say to that? Hell if he knew, so instead, he stood up, grabbed his dishes, and took them over to the sink, where he took his time rinsing them and stacking them in the dishwasher.

“What did Rossick and Julia say about you blowing off your shift for her last night? I mean, jeez, Carter, it’s just the flu, and if they even think there’s something going on between the two of you, it’s going to cost Regan her job and—”

“They don’t know.” Carter leaned back against the dishwasher and stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. “Why do you think I came here to shower this morning?”

“Oh,” she said, a second before the final piece fell into place. “
Oh!
You didn’t just go over there last night, you
stayed
there last night.”

Wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer.

“But she doesn’t let anyone stay over.”

“Yeah, well…” He lifted his shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I didn’t exactly ask permission.”

“You just
stayed
?” Jayne studied him for a long moment, her expression going from confused to annoyed that fast. “Oh, Carter, please don’t tell me you—”

“No! Nothing happened; she slept and I, uh, mostly played Angry Birds.” It wasn’t until he said it out loud that he realized how pathetic it sounded, but all he could do was rub his earlobe and grin stupidly. “I leveled up so much that I’m kicking Nick’s ass now, so that’s something.”

“Oh, Carter.” There was more sympathy in those two words than Carter heard from her the whole year he was sick. And the look on her face made it even worse, but before she could say anything more, Nick strode back into the room, buckling his coveralls as he walked.

“You ready? Let’s go.”

“Right. Thanks for breakfast, Jay.” Carter pushed away from the dishwasher, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Relax, it’s no big deal.”

Armed with a thermos of coffee and half a dozen of Jayne’s fresh cranberry muffins, they hopped in Nick’s truck and drove up to the worksite. Nick had always been a builder; when other kids his age were asking for new bikes or Super Nintendos, Nick only wanted Legos and Lincoln Logs. When other kids were spending their allowance on candy and Slurpees, Nick was down at the lumberyard buying supplies for his treehouse.

There wasn’t a building code he didn’t know, a blueprint he couldn’t read, or a construction problem he couldn’t fix.

Gilley’s house was fairly modest compared to some of the mausoleums he’d built, but size and budget never mattered to Nick. Every house was built with the same precision and attention to detail, which was why Carter wasn’t allowed to cut the boards or screw them to the frame; all he was allowed to do was hold the pieces in place while Nick did the work.

With the third ceiling board butted up against the stud, Carter steadied himself on the stilts as Nick shot the first screw through it.

“So,” he said, keeping his hand steady on the screw gun. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“What d’you mean?” Carter’s shoulder twitched, so they had to take a second to realign the board.

“I mean whatever it is you told Jayne was no big deal.” The screw gun fired twice before Nick spoke again. “If that was true, she wouldn’t have looked like that.”

“It’s nothing.” Finally free of the board, Carter clomped a few steps back, raised both hands in the air, and forced a pathetic attempt of a grin. “And before you aim that thing at me, I swear I haven’t done anything, I haven’t pissed her off or made her cry, and you can ask her if you don’t believe me.”

“I will. But if you didn’t do anything, then why’s she worried?”

“Because that’s what Jay does.” Carter snorted and rubbed his dusty hands hard over his face. “She thinks I’m a dog even when I’m completely innocent.”

“No she doesn’t, she just worries about you, that’s all.” Nick pulled the measuring tape out of his pocket and held the end out to Carter. “But completely innocent? Somehow I doubt that, ’cause I’ve never seen her look at you like that before.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit. Looked like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hug you or punch you.”

Carter tried to force a chuckle, but the sound died halfway up his throat, trampled over by his rising irritation. He pressed the end of the tape to the edge of the board and waited, but Nick didn’t move.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Maybe I can help.”

“Jesus, Nick. Are we gonna work or have a therapy session? ’Cause if you don’t need my help, I’ve got other things I could be doing.”

“Yeah? Like what?” With slow, deliberate movements, Nick marked the board, ran his knife down the side of the straight edge, and snapped off the piece he didn’t need. “The only time you ever offer to help is when you’re hiding out from someone, and it’s usually the girl you picked up the night before.”

“Whatever,” Carter muttered, yanking the cut board upright.

“So it is a girl.” Nick hooked the screw gun onto his tool belt and helped Carter hoist the board up to the ceiling where they eased it into place. “Do I know her?”

“Can you focus here for a second please?”

“That’s a yes.”

“It’s a nothing,” Carter ground out. “Now are you gonna use that screw gun or are we just gonna stand here staring at each other all day?”

“Is that what Jayne’s worried about?” Nick waited until Carter had the board balanced, then moved to the corner to fire the first screw. But he didn’t; there was nothing but silence for a couple seconds. “Jesus, Carter, are you screwing around with Maya now?”

“What? No!”

“Ellie?”

“God no!”

“Who then?” Finally the gun fired once, then stopped again. “Holy shit! It’s not Regan, is it?”

Carter was pretty sure it was the unbalanced weight of the drywall, held straight above his head, that made his arms twitch like that, but unless he wanted a four-by-six-foot piece of plaster crashing down on both of them, he needed Nick to focus. Instead, his cousin just stood there staring at him and shaking his head slowly.

“It
is
Regan, isn’t it?”

“Uh, Nick…the board? It’s getting kinda heavy.”

“Jeez, Carter, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Nick.
Seriously
. Screw the damn board in.”

“And you told Jayne? Are you nuts?”

“For Christ’s sake, screw the fuckin’ board in!”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the gun fired again in rapid succession, and Carter could finally lower his arms.

“You and Regan?” The look on Nick’s face was nothing short of dumbfounded. “I thought that was just a one-time thing.”

“So did I,” Carter grunted. “I mean it was.”

“Are you and her still—”

“No! It’s nothing.” Should’ve kept his big mouth shut. “I’m just being an idiot.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Nick shook his head in disbelief. “Jayne always said a girl would get to you one day, but going by the usual type you go out with, we thought it’d be someone like…like…”

“Like who?”

“Like
not
Regan!” Nick swiped his arm across his forehead and grunted. “I mean, shit, man, she straight up told you she didn’t want—”

Carter didn’t know if it was the look he gave Nick or what, but something stopped him in mid-sentence. Instead of dropping the subject, though, he just shrugged and changed lanes.

“I’m just sayin’…”

“I know.” Carter picked up the measuring tape and held the end out to Nick, who completely ignored it.

“She
works for you
and you know Jules’ll skin you alive if she finds out you’re still horning up on her.”

“I know.”

“And you were the one who told me the only reason they agreed to hire her was because you both said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“
Yeah,
I know. It’s not a problem. Here!” He wiggled the tape, but Nick continued to ignore it.

“I mean, even if Regan wanted to hook up with you,
which she doesn’t,
it would probably mean giving up her job and from what Jayne says, she needs it pretty badly, so…”

“I know.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Carter ground his teeth together and just stared back at Nick.

“Seriously, man, no matter how this plays out, one of you is going to get screwed—and not in a good way. And while you know Jayne and I got your back, she’ll kill you if you hurt one of her friends.”