Page 74 of Trusting You
20
Locke
I wake from an awkward sprawl on the couch to the downstairs door banging open.
Blinking, grumbling, I fumble in the dark for my phone on the floor somewhere to check the time. Three a.m.
I put Lily to bed eight hours ago and have been crashed out ever since. Carter would’ve been proud of the bedtime routine—I followed it to a T. Scheduling is in my DNA, and I had that baby bathed, bottled, pajama’d, sleep sacked and in her crib by 7:15. And like Carter assured, Lily accepted it all with little fuss.
A checkbox in Carter’s column, for sure. Whatever she and Paige had done to help this little girl go to bed without screaming, I’m forever thankful for.
Paige.
She’s like a curse word in my mind. The instant I recall her, I think back on our night, what happened, and how I’m hiding it from Carter.
It’s crazy how concerned I am over what Carter might think. How she’d see me if I ever admitted to her how Paige and I came together in the first place. It’s bad enough Carter’s leaving for good in three weeks.
Speaking of…
The apartment door creaks open, light from the hallway pooling inside the dark interior where I’m hidden. The shadows still encase me as I see one leg flash inside, then a torso, then tangled hair.
I crack a smile as she trips over her own feet. The mermaid has washed ashore.
Quietly, she shuts the door. Then attempts to take her heels off, and succeeds after one precarious sideways lean that almost lands her on the floor. I’m tempted to help her, but I’m more entertained by what’s going to happen next.
Like she’s a cartoon burglar, Carter tiptoes across the floorboards.
It’s when she’s almost at Lily’s nursery that I think, Shit.
One thing I forgot to do was pick up all of Lily’s toys.
A squeak echoes across the main room, vibrating the airwaves and pulling at the corners of my mouth as Carter whisper-yells, “Shit!” and trips over her feet again, this time landing against the opposite wall and sliding down.
“Lachlan Hayes to the rescue,” I say, lifting from the couch.
Instead of polite relief over being lifted up from the floorboards, Carter screeches. I have enough time to say, “What the—” before she whacks my nose and I go down on the ground with her.
“Ow!” I whisper-shout, hand to my face. “Ow, fucking ow!”
She rolls over, I suppose to comfort me but instead splays out like a jellyfish on my chest. “Sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“No you’re not. You’re laughing.”
“I’m not. I’m-I’m catching my breath.”
Even though I can only see the top of her head, her shoulders are shaking with mirth.
“Have fun with my sister, did you?”
“Sure, so much.” Carter’s still laughing.
“You hit my nose.”
“You’re acting like I threw a football at it.”
“No, just your fist.”
“Are you bleeding?” She looks up, her eyes glittering through the dimness. “I can’t see.”