Don't Look Back(75)

My heart thumped heavily. “You did?”

He nodded. “Do you know what’s happening in three weeks?”

“Um, the end of April?”

“Yeah, that and prom.”

I stared at him.

With his eyes on my face, he laughed. “You look a little shocked by that.”

“I just... haven’t thought of prom.”

“I figured as much.” He scooted over, and his entire leg pressed against mine. “I know a lot is going on, and going to the prom might seem stupid, but I think it’s what you need.”

“It is?”

“Yes, and there’s something else you need.”

There were a lot of things that I needed. My eyes searched his face, and for the hundredth time, I wanted to kick myself for not seeing him before for who he was. “What?”

Carson tucked my hair behind my ear, his hand lingering against my cheek for the briefest second. “You need me to take you to the dance.”

I opened my mouth, but there were no words. A sudden rush of images of being invited to dances in the past flashed in rapid succession. Hide-and-seek invites, a card stuck in roses, a large banner spread across the baseball diamond. All of them intricate setups, but for some reason, Carson inviting me to the tree house to ask me pulled at my heartstrings.

Carson lowered his chin. “Usually, I can figure people out by the looks on their faces, but I have no clue what you’re thinking. Good idea? Bad. Terrible?”

I stared to laugh, but it was choked off as reality came crashing back. “It’s a wonderful idea, but I can’t go with you.”

“I’ll admit. I’m kind of confused.” He leaned back, resting his hands on his knees. “You think it’s a wonderful idea, but you can’t go with me?”

“Yes. No.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

He gave me a small, thin smile. “Yeah, I don’t. Care to explain?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to go to the dance with me.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, Sam? Wait.” Understanding colored his tone. “Is it because of the police investigating Cassie’s... murder? And you think you did it.” “Car—”

“You did not kill Cassie, Sam. Okay? Get that through that thick—albeit cute—skull of yours. You’re not a murderer.”

“It’s not just that. I’m ... I’m sort of messed up.”

He stared at me. “Aren’t we all?”

“No, not like this.” I lowered my eyes, fidgeting. “I’m really messed up, Carson.”

There was a heavy sigh. “You’re stressed out and—”

“I had to see a therapist today!” I said, probably a little louder than I should have. Tucking my legs against my chest, I forced my voice lower. “Last night ... last night I woke up and I thought there was someone in my room. I thought he was touching me. And no one was there, Carson.”

“Okay.” His voice was gruff. “It could be stress. Or it could be a memory. You’ve said that some of the memories were like they were really happening, right?”

I laughed, and it was the wrong thing to do, because it sounded all kinds of wrong. “That’s not all. Those notes I’d been finding? They’re in my handwriting. I’ve been writing notes to myself and not even remembering it.”

“Sam—”

“Please don’t say something to make me feel better about all this.” I fought to swallow the tears, clearing my throat twice. “I left school early today to meet with a shrink. I’m going to be on meds. So I know something is wrong with me—more than just stress.”

After my speech, silence descended between us. I was doing everything to keep from crying, because out of everyone, what he thought of me had come to mean so much. Prom was definitely out of the question. Who wanted to take Insanity Sam? Our friendship might also go down the drain. Hell, I was surprised he was still sitting here.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’m going to say something, and I’m only going to say it once, and then this is done.”

I lifted my wet lashes. Here it comes. Preparing for what I was sure would be probably the nicest rejection in the history of mankind, I nodded and got ready to bolt through the tree house opening.

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with Cassie,” he said. “And you have got to stop living your life as if you did.”

I blinked, waiting for the rest.

He spread his hands along my cheeks. “I don’t care if you have to see a shrink or go on medication, Sam. I’m being serious. That doesn’t change that I’ve always thought you are an amazing person.”

Through bleary eyes, I searched his face for signs that he was joking. “How can you say that—”

“When you wouldn’t give me the time of day for years?” He laughed. “Remember, Sam, you had your moments. And those moments outshone everything else.”

“You’re perfect,” I whispered, blinking back tears.

Carson snorted. “I’m far from perfect.”

I didn’t believe that.

“So is it a yes or no?” he asked, moving his hands down my cheeks, so that his thumbs curved along my bottom lip, sending a shiver through me, lessening the very real fact that I was a hundred percent certifiable. “Will you go to prom with me?”