Carter embraced me tightly while I wept in his arms. I confided in him after he guided me to the couch. My upbringing revolved around being placed for adoption by my mother. Upon my initial arrival, Dale paid me little attention, and I felt immense pressure to excel in everything, fearing eviction. Gradually, Dale's attitude shifted, and he became my protector, harboring resentment toward our father. The reason behind this transformation eluded me, but I was appreciative. In my formative years, he was my savior and closest companion. When he finished high school, our father presented him with a choice: pursue further education or self-sufficiency upon graduation; he opted for the Air Force and was stationed in Texas. His departure left me profoundly isolated and yearning for companionship. Consequently, I clung to anyone who displayed kindness, including Mr. Perez, my father's business partner at the time. Mr. Perez's gestures, such as compliments, gifts, and spending time together, gradually escalated to inappropriate touching. Despite recognizing the impropriety, I allowed it to persist due to my fear of losing his attention.
The revelation occurred when Dale unexpectedly returned home and caught Mr. Perez inappropriately interacting with me. Dale intervened fiercely, rescuing me from the situation and subjecting Mr. Perez to a severe beating. While Dale contemplated expelling me, he reached an agreement with Mr. Perez: no legal action in exchange for relinquishing a share of the auto dealership he co-owned with my father. My father chose to ignore the incident, effectively erasing Mr. Perez from our lives. This event further fueled Dale's resentment toward our father. As I graduated, Dale encouraged me to attend college in Texas to remain close to him. Ashamed of the incident Dale witnessed, I eagerly complied, allowing Dale to assume a significant role in my life.
My perspective shifted upon uncovering a distressing truth: I was adopted by my father after he cheated on Dale's mother and discovered I wasn't biologically related. The most painful aspect was Dale's awareness of this fact all along. I felt manipulated, like a pawn in my father and Dale's complex dynamics.
Carter consoled me, his touch soothing as I recounted my story.
"Katy, I'm deeply sorry," he expressed, his hand gently rubbing my arms. I wiped away tears, gaining control over my emotions.
"There's no reason for you to apologize. You've been my unwavering support, even through your own struggles," I stated, my voice tinged with frustration. Pushing him away, I continued, "I didn't share my burdens because I didn't want your sympathy, and I still don't."
"Katy, every challenge I faced, I faced with my family and you by my side. You confronted your hardships alone. I only wish I could have reciprocated the support you gave me." Carter persisted, his voice filled with understanding.
"You were always there for me. The mere thought that you might harbor such feelings… you can't fathom how much that meant to me," I declared, locking eyes with him.
I yearn to recapture that feeling, unburdened by shame, guilt, or pain. Just our shared longing for each other. My lips met his, urging his mouth to open as my tongue teased its entrance. He responded eagerly, pulling me closer, our tongues engaging in a passionate dance. His kiss mirrored my fervor, equally forceful and ravenous. Every fiber of my being craved him, and I straddled his lap, craving more of his touch.
"We should stop," he gasped, turning his lips away from mine. Ignoring his plea, I trailed my lips along his neck, eliciting groans as my mouth caressed his skin—his taste surpassing my memory. I hungered for more, unable to get enough. My halter top was discarded in haste, but a fleeting glimpse of his anguished expression as he saw my lacy bra broke my trance. Fumbling to cover myself, embarrassment flooded over me.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I apologize," I stammered. Doubt clouded my mind—nobody could want me with all the issues I carry.
"Katy, please… Just hold on a moment," he groaned, his hands steadying my hips as I shifted to disentangle myself. Through the fabric of his jeans, I felt his arousal throb against me.
Curiosity swelled as I gazed up at him, puzzled by his sudden restraint.
"I don't want to exploit the situation," he confessed, his eyes locked with mine.
My gaze drifted to his t-shirt, words escaping me. He misunderstood—I craved exactly what he offered. But how could I convince him? Should I press into his desire, let him feel my own longing, and ask for what I crave? He dressed me, his touch soothing as he stroked my back. Lost in thought, pondering my next move, he guided me to the couch beside him.
"Is there something you need?" His voice was soft, drawing my attention. I met his dark gaze, and all-consuming thoughts of our passionate encounter consumed me, the vision of him taking me on the couch overpowering my mind.
"You—" My phone interrupted, its ring echoing in the room, breaking the charged atmosphere. Both of us looked at it, and the moment shattered. Josiah's name appeared, and my cheeks flushed, as if he had walked in on us post-encounter. I was almost certain he had tipped off my brother and ruined my plans with Carter.
"No, I'm fine. I'm sorry you got pulled into all of this," I murmured, silencing the ringer, avoiding the interruption.
Carter clasped my hand, his grip reassuring.
"I mean it. Whenever you need me—" His sentence was cut short by the phone ringing once more.
An exasperated sigh escaped me as Josiah's number flashed again. Irritation settled in. Carter released my hand.
"Answer it. I'll see you later this week," Carter declared, rising from his seat. I watched him depart, then powered down my phone before retreating to bed.
*****
Given my dysfunctional family, my friends became my pillars of support, evolving into a surrogate family. However, discord or disagreements with them took a toll on me. I opted not to respond to Josiah's calls on Monday morning, instead texting him to give me space. His relentless barrage of calls and messages confirmed my suspicion that he had a hand in orchestrating my brother's ambush. While I intended to forgive him eventually, I thought it wouldn't hurt to let him experience some anxiety. Moreover, I aimed to assert myself and not be a pushover anymore.
Oddly, I hadn't heard from my brother yet, which surprised me. Although he said he'd wait for me to initiate contact, I harbored doubts that he would truly adhere to that commitment. My mixed emotions swirled between relief and disappointment. While I had expressed my exhaustion with our family's chaos, did that mean I desired to sever ties? I grappled with uncertainty.
Carter reached out to me on Monday evening via text, inquiring about my well-being. I thanked him for his concern but maintained a dismissive tone. I wanted him to desire me as intensely as I desired him. Our passionate encounter on Sunday fueled vivid fantasies of us together, and I was eager to turn those fantasies into reality. However, I refrained from discussing it, understanding Carter's tendency to overanalyze situations. His meticulous nature, which made him an exceptional architect, led him to carefully evaluate the repercussions and benefits of every decision. I had witnessed this firsthand during our initial kiss; he took weeks to process it. Although it initially worried me, I grew to accept his need for introspection and patience.
"Can we talk?" Roxanna approached me Wednesday morning, her request precluding her departure for work. Leon had already left the house.
"Of course, what's on your mind?"
"Do you know why I was upset on Sunday?"
A sigh escaped me. "I have an inkling. I realize the situation with Caroline and Marcus is unconventional, but I assure you, she isn't saying anything negative about you. I doubt they even converse." I suspected she wanted to discuss this privately, away from Leon's presence.
She regarded me with a meaningful gaze. "No, it has nothing to do with Caroline. I couldn't care less about her affairs, and she's aware better than to involve me. This pertains to you."
Pardon me? I was taken aback.
"Katy, I appreciate your body positivism, but it's crucial to be mindful of your attire."
I was genuinely surprised. "What's wrong with how I dress?"
"In that white dress on Sunday, it was inappropriate—both in front of Leon and CJ." She emphasized.
The tank top dress I wore to sleep was a tad short, yet it provided more coverage than swimsuit bottoms.
"But it wasn't just about the swimsuit," I ventured, truly perplexed.
"A swimsuit is intended for swimming. It offers padding. The thin fabric of that dress left little to the imagination."
"I apologize," I mumbled, my face flushing with embarrassment. Criticism always made me feel inept, as if I couldn't get anything right.
"I recognize your intentions weren't malicious, or I would have addressed it immediately," Roxanna assured me, her expression leaving me uncertain whether she was joking or not. "It's a matter of respect," she concluded.
I nodded. "So, is that why Leon was distant?" I recalled his demeanor when I returned, his refusal to meet my gaze.
"Yes, precisely. I reprimanded him later. Don't misunderstand me; I comprehend that men will look. It wasn't the first time he's glanced your way."
I gasped, taken aback. What? Had I been utterly clueless?
"He kept staring at you. I waited to see when Leon would avert his gaze, but he didn't. He would have continued if Carter hadn't intervened and smacked him," Roxanna explained.
"What?!?!" I exclaimed, shocked at having missed all of this.
"That's right. After Carter finally tore his gaze from you, he realized Leon was still staring and gave him a smack on the back of his head," Roxanna recounted, a small smile gracing her lips. A giggle escaped me at the confirmation of Carter's lingering attraction and the mental image of him scolding Leon. Our laughter bubbled forth.
Once our amusement subsided, I met her gaze earnestly.
"I truly had no idea. As you said, I would never intentionally do something like that. I'm sorry. In the future, please just take me aside and let me know. You know, the only person I want checking me out is Carter."
"Understood. Just maintain some elegance. We'll go shopping soon. I don't know why I expected otherwise after your shopping excursion with Caroline, the… well, you know."
"'Slore'?" I inquired.
"Short for 'slut whore.' It's the only explanation for her involvement with Marcus. She enjoys it and gets paid," she quipped.
I laughed at her candidness.