Read Online Ten Tiny Breaths 0.5 In Her Wake by K.A. Tucker - Free Book Online
Authors: K.A. Tucker
Ads: Link
can’t just walk away!” My dad yelling is such a rare sound, I have to wonder if he’s graduated beyond one glass of scotch a night.
“I can’t do it.”
“You have one year left of your degree!”
Yeah, one unbearably long year. I know myself well enough to know that I’m not getting up for class tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day. “And then what? It’s a fucking piece of paper.”
“A piece of paper that we’ve paid for!” My dad slams his fist against the table.
“Carter!” My mom’s yelling now too.
I knew there was a good chance I’d be facing this and yet I can’t deal with it. I stroll out of the kitchen and head for my room, tossing my bag on the ground and flopping into my bed, the feel of my cool pillow a relief.
A few minutes later, the door opens and shuts softly, and I know it’s my mom without looking. “I just need to stay here for a while, until I can get back on my feet.”
“I understand.” A soothing hand lands on the back of my head.
“Can you throw me a few projects? Stuff I can work on from home. Alone.”
“Yes. Okay.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I pause. “What were you and Dad talking about?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I can feel her choosing her words. “They need him in the Manhattan office. He’s going to look into a place to rent, seeing as he’s going to be there a lot.”
“I thought he said he’d never do that.” His partners have been trying to get him to move for years, but it was too big a risk to my mom’s agency, and it’s always been a rule for Carter Reynolds that he stays with his family.
I guess things have changed.
Chapter 8
Dec 31, 2008
“Hey, buddy! Glad you came.” I throw a hand up in time to catch Fitz’s friendly slap. “Beer?”
“Nah, I’m good. I can’t stay long.” My eyes survey the sea of familiar faces from high school. A lot of them I saw back in April at the funeral. That was eight months ago. They all look the same. With a full beard covering my face and at least twenty pounds less muscle, I’m sure they wouldn’t say the same about me.
I’d still be sitting in my boxer shorts and T-shirt had my mom not run into Fitz’s mom at the supermarket, who told her about the New Year’s party that Fitz was throwing. My mom guilt-tripped me into coming.
I obliged, with the plan to show my face and then bolt.
“So . . . What have you been up to? I hear you’re back in the neighborhood.” I don’t miss the way he shifts on his feet. He’s probably as uncomfortable as I am right now.
“Uh . . . you know. Just work and stuff.” It’s as though I’ve forgotten how to carry on a normal conversation. I just don’t know what to say to anyone anymore. That’s why I rarely leave home. The rec room has become my lair. I’ve even moved my bed down. It’s odd—I was always such an extrovert before, and rarely alone. But I can honestly say that I’ve come to appreciate the peace that solitude can provide. At least I can judge myself in privacy.
“All right, well . . .” Poor Fitz just wants to get away from me. “We’ve got burgers on the grill and the hockey game on in the living room. Help yourself to the stock in the fridge if you change your mind.”
Another hand slap and then Fitz is out, his steps fast and heading in the opposite direction of me.
I glance at my watch, giving myself five minutes before the front door sees my back. Five long minutes to kill. Luckily, the place is crammed with people and the music is loud. It’s easy to squeeze through the crowd with a nod and a smile without actually being forced to talk to anyone.
So, that’s what I do, weaving through room after room. It’s a big house, and Fitz’s parents have always been cool about him throwing parties here. Even in high school, they’d take off for New York City, five hours and change away, and let him do whatever he wanted, as long as the house was spotless by the time they came back the next day.
I
“I can’t do it.”
“You have one year left of your degree!”
Yeah, one unbearably long year. I know myself well enough to know that I’m not getting up for class tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day. “And then what? It’s a fucking piece of paper.”
“A piece of paper that we’ve paid for!” My dad slams his fist against the table.
“Carter!” My mom’s yelling now too.
I knew there was a good chance I’d be facing this and yet I can’t deal with it. I stroll out of the kitchen and head for my room, tossing my bag on the ground and flopping into my bed, the feel of my cool pillow a relief.
A few minutes later, the door opens and shuts softly, and I know it’s my mom without looking. “I just need to stay here for a while, until I can get back on my feet.”
“I understand.” A soothing hand lands on the back of my head.
“Can you throw me a few projects? Stuff I can work on from home. Alone.”
“Yes. Okay.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I pause. “What were you and Dad talking about?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I can feel her choosing her words. “They need him in the Manhattan office. He’s going to look into a place to rent, seeing as he’s going to be there a lot.”
“I thought he said he’d never do that.” His partners have been trying to get him to move for years, but it was too big a risk to my mom’s agency, and it’s always been a rule for Carter Reynolds that he stays with his family.
I guess things have changed.
Chapter 8
Dec 31, 2008
“Hey, buddy! Glad you came.” I throw a hand up in time to catch Fitz’s friendly slap. “Beer?”
“Nah, I’m good. I can’t stay long.” My eyes survey the sea of familiar faces from high school. A lot of them I saw back in April at the funeral. That was eight months ago. They all look the same. With a full beard covering my face and at least twenty pounds less muscle, I’m sure they wouldn’t say the same about me.
I’d still be sitting in my boxer shorts and T-shirt had my mom not run into Fitz’s mom at the supermarket, who told her about the New Year’s party that Fitz was throwing. My mom guilt-tripped me into coming.
I obliged, with the plan to show my face and then bolt.
“So . . . What have you been up to? I hear you’re back in the neighborhood.” I don’t miss the way he shifts on his feet. He’s probably as uncomfortable as I am right now.
“Uh . . . you know. Just work and stuff.” It’s as though I’ve forgotten how to carry on a normal conversation. I just don’t know what to say to anyone anymore. That’s why I rarely leave home. The rec room has become my lair. I’ve even moved my bed down. It’s odd—I was always such an extrovert before, and rarely alone. But I can honestly say that I’ve come to appreciate the peace that solitude can provide. At least I can judge myself in privacy.
“All right, well . . .” Poor Fitz just wants to get away from me. “We’ve got burgers on the grill and the hockey game on in the living room. Help yourself to the stock in the fridge if you change your mind.”
Another hand slap and then Fitz is out, his steps fast and heading in the opposite direction of me.
I glance at my watch, giving myself five minutes before the front door sees my back. Five long minutes to kill. Luckily, the place is crammed with people and the music is loud. It’s easy to squeeze through the crowd with a nod and a smile without actually being forced to talk to anyone.
So, that’s what I do, weaving through room after room. It’s a big house, and Fitz’s parents have always been cool about him throwing parties here. Even in high school, they’d take off for New York City, five hours and change away, and let him do whatever he wanted, as long as the house was spotless by the time they came back the next day.
I
Similar Books
