Fearsome (16 page)

Carson tosses the oven mitts on the counter and comes closer to me with concern in his sharp blue eyes. “Jesus, no. I never thought you weren’t worthy of being with Dylan. You’re too good for him. I was worried that he was too needy and it would be too much of a burden for you. And I—”

“What?” I ask, studying his expression.

He thinks for a minute before responding with a well-crafted, safe answer.

“You’re very young, Jess. Dylan does not have his depression under control. It’s not something you should feel obligated to endure or try to fix. Dylan isn’t trying hard enough to help himself, so it’s not fair that he subjects other people—you—to this.”

“That’s not very nice. Dylan deserves help with his illness, and it was horrible for me to not take his calls over the last two weeks.”

“You misunderstand me. Dylan has received a great deal of medical help and help from our friends. He’s the one who keeps rejecting it or taking himself off medication. When things are good, Dylan sabotages the treatment. I don’t want to see you get sucked into Dylan’s emotional rollercoaster.”

“You can’t make those decisions for me. What if I want to be involved? What if I like him so much, I want to help?”

“You like him that much?” Carson mumbles and runs his hand slowly through his hair. It falls in lanky spikes around his face. I can tell he is worried as he casts his eyes down before taking both of my hands in his. “Dylan’s feelings for you are real, even if he might blow them out of proportion. It’s part of his nature to be overly dramatic, high on life, before he crashes. It’s a horrible thing to watch, it’s even worse to be a… don’t take this the wrong way… a pawn in his game of life.”

That hurts. I try to pull my hands from his, but he grips them tighter. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That came out wrong. Dylan doesn’t intentionally use people, but he becomes attached in an unhealthy way and they become like accessories for him. I know that I sound mean, but I’m trying to explain that Dylan doesn’t realize what he’s doing. He doesn’t see what we see. He’s an emotional tornado that grabs everything that isn’t tied down and pulls them into the eye of the Dylan storm and tosses them around like a rag doll. I’d hate myself if he did that to you.”

“I thought you were worried about
me
hurting Dylan. You thought I was a lousy influence,” I say, letting him hold my hands longer.

“I was hoping to discourage a relationship between you two, to avoid this very scenario.”

“Sixty-five million,” I whisper to myself.

“Are you scared?” Carson asks. “You whisper larger figures when you’re anxious about something.”

“How do you know that? I don’t think I’ve even made the connection between my emotional state and my whispering,” I say, perplexed.

“Like I told you before, you did that when you were a kid, usually when you were worried about something. Then I noticed it again when you first arrived here a month ago, you did it all the time. It’s not hard to connect the dots.”

“Sometimes you amaze me, Carson Blackard.” I begin to smile.

He seems pleased when I say that.

“This is not the Carson I met in Archie’s office on my first day. You barged by me like I was nobody.”

“Oh, I knew who you were. Believe me, the minute I saw you outside Archie’s office, everything I knew about Jessica Channing was bombarding my brain. I didn’t know how it would affect me to see you in person again after so many years. I was—”

“Were we like a family that one summer?” I query excitedly. My mind is racing with explanations. I don’t let Carson respond. “Is that why Dylan latched on to me? When you saw me, did it feel like a long lost sister was returning home?” I sound very hopeful, like someone who always wanted siblings.

Carson grips my hands tighter and pulls me into his chest then looks down at me with exasperation. “Not once have I thought of you as my sister. Do not confuse me with someone you think is like a brother.” Ouch. He’s tough.

We’re so close our eyes are inches apart. I can see a thin white scar by his ear which is hidden by a lock of hair. My gaze drops from his magnificent eyes to his seductive lips. Carson doesn’t have the adorable cuteness of Dylan; he’s a bundle of steely masculinity with little interest or talent in being a playful flirt like Dylan. Yet I am naïve and presumptuous, entertaining such ideas that Carson could ever take an interest in me. He is merely putting me in my place, prompting me to stay on track with his goal of helping and protecting his brother. He must have taken my reaction as discomfort because he loosens his grip and then lets go of me altogether.

“Your aunt talked about you plenty. I knew what you looked like in junior high, high school, and I saw enough photos of you from college to know exactly who you were when I walked into Archie’s office. Whatever your aunt had in private photos, she had more in public documents. Things that Archie would find on the Internet; school achievements, awards, anything and everything.”

“How did she get all these photos of me? Did my mother send them?”

“Hell, no. Gin’s relationship with your parents was so fucked up. Sorry. Gin hired a private detective to keep tabs on you.”

“Seriously?”

“You lived in New York City, isn’t that the perfect place to have someone followed without them ever knowing?”

“True, tourists with cameras are everywhere. A man or woman carrying a full-size SLR camera wouldn’t turn a head. They could be a tourist, a journalist, a TV crew, a crime scene photographer. Hmm. Weird.”

“We should get going soon.” Carson begins clearing the counters and putting dirty dishes in the sink.

His fluctuating moods keep my mind preoccupied while we clean the kitchen. One minute he’s very attentive, sometimes thoughtful like his brother and then the next minute he’s scolding me like I’m a misbehaving child. It occurs to me that he is torn between accepting me as an adult now and maintaining some kind of guardianship over Dylan and his illness without driving his brother away. That seems to be the crux of it all.

I have to accept Carson’s words as truth. I know so little about him, but if he’s telling me that Dylan suffers from serious bouts of depression and erratic behavior, then I have to honor Carson’s wishes. His brother has an illness and I can either be a hindrance or a help with his wellbeing. If Carson is attempting to scare me away with the reality of Dylan’s prognosis, then Carson knows less about me than he thinks.

I may be a late bloomer when it comes to relationships and people in general, however, in my short time here, I have developed some feelings for Dylan. At first, I thought it was a crush, falling for a handsome guy that I thought was out of my league, although to be fair to myself, I am a cautious person when it comes to men.

Being much younger than my classmates and work colleagues has taught me to be careful when it comes to deciphering the overtures of men. Youth has worked against me in the arena of love and I have had to deal with a greater learning curve than most women.

When I replay the scenes with Dylan over in my mind, as well as Carson’s revelation about Dylan, they have made me see this serendipitous moment for what it is. Dylan does care about me and Carson is making it clear that he sees me as an adult, not a child; a woman mature enough to be with Dylan and to help him. I’m sure I can love Dylan or rather, I can let myself fall in love.

I watch Carson’s back as he does the dishes while, at the same time, I formulate a new resolve to be a different woman, a stronger person.

“You okay there?” Carson asks, watching me daydream in the middle of drying a mixing bowl.

I step towards him to hand off the bowl, catching one rubber flip-flop on top of the other and stumbling right into him. Carson catches me in a tight grip as the metal bowl clangs across the floor.

“Barnacles!” I exclaim.

He laughs. “Yeah, you’re real fine.” He holds me tightly and pulls me back up. “You need to wear real shoes or you’re going to get injured in your own home.”

Home.

“Yeah, yeah.” I laugh and push away from his grasp.

I could berate myself over and over for getting gushy over a man saving me, but I have to look at Carson in a new light. I need him as a friend because he’s right. I have a new home, new friends and a potential new man that is good despite coming with some baggage. After all, who doesn’t have some type of baggage? I have two critical, demanding parents that repel my friends, I have a job that bores the bejeezus out of anyone who asks me about it, and socially I’m not known for my exciting affairs. I was the nerdy wallflower who happened to inherit a couple of good genes; pretty and smart. It’s time to make good on them.

Before we leave for Lois’s party, I take a quick shower and change into a summer dress. Carson waits impatiently downstairs so there’s no time for make-up or taming my hair.

My dress twirls up over my thighs as I run barefoot down the stairs. Carson lets out a low whistle, so I quickly brush the linen fabric down with my hands to cover myself up, although it’s not anything he hasn’t seen before.

“Nice legs,” he says in a sexy voice that I don’t think was intentional.

I will just have to accept that I view Carson as a lusty man. Every time he speaks to me or flips his hammer in his hands, I think everything about his body and gruff personality exudes a dynamic masculinity. I look away from him and search for my dressy sandals in the hall closet.

“I can drive myself to Lois’s house. That way you can go home and change,” I offer.

“Change? Why do I want to change?” Carson’s holding both pies and his keys.

“Because it’s a party. Don’t you want to look nice?”

“We’re not going to a ball. This is how I always look. I think everyone is used to me as I am,” he says. “Why? Do you think I look bad?”

Of course not. He is splendid. However, I can’t arrive at the party with Carson if I want to see Dylan.

It’s as if Carson can read my thoughts as I bite my lip and ponder the situation. “It’s fine,” he says rather forcefully. “This isn’t a date and no one will think it is, so don’t worry; we can go together.”

“I’m not worried what other people think,” I say in a huff. I lock the front door and take one of the pies from him. I walk rapidly to his truck with him right on my heels. Seriously, I feel like one of his big boots is going to crush me.

The pies are still warm as they rest in my lap, making me perspire even more. We ride in silence as I resist the urge to glance over at Carson. I suspect he’s aware of my plan to renew my interest in Dylan. If Carson thought he’d sway me otherwise, his strategy has done the opposite. I’m eager to see Dylan and I’m pretty sure that Carson is on to me. His deep sighs periodically break the quiet tension.

I laugh to myself. I have the world’s laziest dog,
Hangover
, I have a quasi-boyfriend who is too cute and unstable for his own good—
Hotty
—and my new protector or guardian, who I can only think of as
Lusty
. What a cast of characters.

Eighteen

“Why are you so jumpy?” Carson asks when we pull in on the grassy area where everyone else has parked in front of Lois’s quaint farmhouse.

There are guests milling around the front porch and admiring the gardens around the side of the house. I search the unrecognizable faces.

“He’ll be here,” Carson says harshly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you’re jittery as all hell. Dylan will be here.” Carson slams his door before walking around the truck to meet me by my door. I’m not moving towards the house; I’m frozen there, holding two pies.

“How do you know? I wasn’t very nice to him the last few weeks. I wouldn’t even speak to him.”

“He’s not angry at you,” Carson reassures me. “He blames me for coming between you two, but even then, Dylan is a very forgiving guy. Even on his worst day, he doesn’t hold grudges.”

“Good. I’m going to give Lois the pies and look for Dylan.” I head for the party without waiting for him, though I do hear him utter a terse
“fine”
behind me.

I make my way through the crowded porch and living room, nodding to people who say hello. I am searching for Lois so I can hand off these damn pies, but I’m really looking for any sign of a head with golden curls, any sign of Dylan. Lois comes out of the kitchen and puts out her two hands, reaching for my pies.

“Look at you! How pretty you are! I’ll take these to the buffet table,” she greets. “Where’s Carson?”

“He’s not far behind. Probably on the porch or out in that living room crowd,” I answer, my head bobbing around, looking for Dylan.

“Oh,” Lois starts. “Well…”

“Well, what?”

“Didn’t you come with Carson?”

“Yes. We made the pies together and he drove me over here.”

She looks pleased at that and then I realize she assumes I’m
with
Carson.

“We’re not on a date, Lois. Carson was my ride.”

“Okay, dear.” Lois sighs.

“Have you seen Dylan?”

“I think he may be out milling around the garden,” she answers, sounding disappointed.

Lois’s garden on the side of the house isn’t your average sprinkling of flower plots. The area of the garden is vast, covering much more land than her home. The entrance of the garden is adorned with abstract stone sculptures and white fairy lights wired through the trees and hedges.

I enter the sanctuary and am immediately dazzled by what I see. A magnificent, old fountain lights up in muted shades of pink arches of water over its three tiers. The fountain is the focal point and large enough that twenty people could climb in it if they got drunk enough and daringly stupid. I imagine my old roommates Kate and Marissa doing this. I realize then that in my mind I have referred to them as my
old
roommates. Have I decided to stay in Hera?

Various garden paths lead away from the fountain where different beds of roses and lilies are in abundance. There are also a number of herbal plots that send an aromatic blend of lavender and thyme across the pleasant evening air. I can’t see the entire garden from the entrance, it’s too large. The paths go off into hidden areas where other party guests have settled themselves on stone benches or delightful antique swings. I can’t see everyone, but I can hear laughter and conversation rise up from the tall hedges that create a wonderful mystery maze.