Crushed (Torn #7)(17)

“Coming!” I yelled across the room before I strode towards it, opening it with mild abandon. “Hey, you, what’s up?”

Carter beamed, still dressed in his casual attire with his dress shirt unbuttoned from the top with pushed back sleeves. He looked scruffy and sexy, all in one hot, steaming package.

“Hey, Linds mentioned that you’re heading back home soon. When do you think you’re planning to go?” He gave me an intent look.

“Tomorrow.” Stepping aside to let him inside the room, I sighed before responding to him. “You?”

“The day after,” he instantly replied just as I was shutting the door behind him.

I immediately went towards the small, cozy settee across the room that sat next to a little balcony.

Carter followed before taking the opposite white-patterned, wingback chair across from me.

“Well, I was thinking, why don’t I fly out with you?” he asked before I even had the chance to get comfortable in my chair.

I paused, frowning at him. “You sure? Wouldn’t that be too weird?”

“How so?” He shrugged before glancing towards the floor. “I really don’t want to hang around out here with Emma. I know Trista’s going to be here, as well, but you know, her boyfriend is Bass’s best friend, and with you gone, I won’t have anyone around who’s kind of neutral and not on his side.”

He meant Bass. I hadn’t realized he was that uncomfortable. Now I felt bad for him. If given a choice, I doubted he would have stayed for this long had it not been for Lindsey begging him to hang around. Their aunt and uncle had already left earlier that morning since those two were busy with their businesses.

“I don’t know. I suppose, if you’re okay with it, then I am, too, I guess.”

Carter beamed. “At least you won’t have to sit next to some random fat dude with a flatulence problem. Instead, you get to sit next to me. Lucky you.” He winked at me, laughing.

I bunched up my nose, chuckling with him. “God, you better not be farting, Carter, or I’m going to make the long flight a living hell for you.”

Sharing this moment with him, it showed me how I missed this Carter—the fun, happy-go-lucky one and not the brooding, dark, and mysterious one he had been.

I truly hoped that someday he would find someone who could love him and whom he could love back the way he had Emma. Some people might argue that finding that sort of love twice in one lifetime would be difficult, but I was completely optimistic. Surely he couldn’t be stuck loving one woman for the rest of his life? That would seriously be cruel. Besides, the same thing applied to me—if I had to love Brody for the rest of my life, then I was f*uked.

Thank goodness I was still optimistic about the future. I was single after all. So what if I had to kiss more frogs than intended before finding my prince? The only goal was to keep going and too keep looking.

I admitted, I was ready to really try this time, to spread my wings and try to be available to men—all but one. I wouldn’t run back to Brody whenever it was convenient for him. I was done with that.





Chapter Eight





We boarded an early flight from Athens to London, and then, from London, we got onto a straight flight all the way to Los Angeles. Sleepy goodbyes were exchanged before we left Athens after a party that went on until the wee hours of the morning. We were so exhausted I was absolutely tempted to move the flight, but Carter was adamant we keep the original schedule, because heck, he couldn’t wait to jet out of there as soon as possible.

Giving in to his request since I felt bad for the guy, we ended up sticking to our original flight, and I ended up sleeping all four hours away. With the alcohol still running through my body, I was lethargic and wanted to simply doze off, so I didn’t pay much attention to him.

The same thing happened when we changed planes. I was a walking zombie, sporting glasses inside the terminal as he guided me. It was like leading a blind person, but it was his price to pay for making me take the earlier flights, knowing I was still hungover.

I supposed the only consolation was that Carter was actually rather patient, making fun of me as we went yet never uttering a complaint about me. It was probably because he had a little sister and was used to all women’s antics. It was pretty much old news to him.

The second I got onto the plane and buckled my seatbelt, I didn’t even waste a breath waiting for him to finish putting his carry-on away in the above compartment before I was out like a light.

I thought it was about six hours into the flight, somewhere across the Atlantic Ocean, when I sparked back to life, peeking out of my closed lids to find Carter Mason reading a damn novel.

“Uh, since when did you start reading?” I asked awkwardly then yawned as he threw me an amused look.

“Let’s see, I think it was when I learned how to read my name after learning my ABCs.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I groaned, laughing with him. “I meant, you know”—I pointed out the obvious paperback he was holding—“that.”

He closed his book, showing me the front cover with the bold title emblazoned on it: Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk.

“Damn, Amber, I don’t know if I should be insulted or take that as a minor compliment.” He arched his perfect-looking, dark brow at me.