Book IV of the UNC Series
Carter Blake has a bone-deep hatred for the world-and especially for the people in it. All he wants is to keep his head down, focus on school and basketball, and avoid the mess of human connection. After enduring years of...
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The air conditioner buzzes as soft, cool air blasts through the vent, sending a shiver down my spine. But despite the briskness of the vented space, Carter's palms are warm and clammy as he clenches them into fists, squeezing my hand in the process.
Tipping my head, I furrow my brows as I stare at him, studying the curve of his prickly jaw. I love the feel of his stubble; though I know he prefers a clean shave, the scratch of his stubbled hair is chilling against my palms. My gaze roams over to his lips that he folds into his mouth as he works his jaw, clenching and grinding his molars.
Carter isn't fond of the person who interrupted our visit, and I wonder what she did to earn his ire.
My eyes unwittingly slide toward the short woman standing before us. She's taller than me, so I shouldn't be calling her short, but compared to Carter, who stands past six feet, everyone appears petite. Her dark hair is dull and lifeless, hanging limply around her shoulders. Her pale skin stretches across her thin figure. I know what being homeless, without a proper food source, looks like. And this lady seems worse than that. Her sunken cheeks and protruding collarbones are visible through her jacket.
She's basically skin and bones, but her warm brown eyes glow when they study Carter. They soften but also seem a little hesitant, almost like she's happy to see him but scared simultaneously. As she takes the time to roam her gaze over his stature, her attention snags on me.
However, Carter doesn't give her a chance to study me, tugging me further behind him to hide me away.
I stare at his back in confusion as questions upon questions race through my mind. Why is he hiding me away from her? Who is she, and why is Carter so angry to see her?
However, one of my questions gets answered immediately when Carter finally speaks. "Mom." There's a wealth of emotion in his voice behind that one word.
My eyes widen, my breathing halting in my throat as I glimpse around his arm to inspect the lady before us. Did he call her Mom? I see no resemblance between the two, and I wonder if that means he took after his dad more. I gape at his mom as I remember what he said a few weeks ago.
How he fought because of her, and suddenly more questions sprout in my mind.
At Carter's acknowledgement of her, his mom takes a hesitant step back, a soft smile consuming her face. She wrings her hands before her, tugging at her nimble fingers. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean? I can't come here anymore?" Carter replies with so much hatred in his tone.
"No, it's just—Carsen said you don't come here," she gulps, her throat rolling like she's nervous.
"Well, I've decided to now."
Carter's mom's eyes shift, and I can't help but let my eyes follow hers, wondering if she's perhaps meeting someone here.
