Sort of Normal

Chapter 15

Carter

When Boone picks me up the next day, he gives me a sheepish smile as he rubs the back of his neck. He only left my room a few hours ago, when the world was first waking up. I pretended not to hear him sneak out because I didn't want to ruin the magic of what happened last night. Kissing him and being with him … I never dreamed it could be real. I'm afraid if I think about it too much, it won't be. There'll be some sort of a glamour showing me what I want to see instead of reality.

I heard him scribble something on a notebook before he left, so the second he was gone I was up and checking what he wrote. It wasn't romantic, as I hoped, but it was still a big deal. The note was an assurance this wasn't going to be just another moment between us. In it, he told me he'd pick me up at nine to visit where his future business is.

"Good morning," he says. "Sleep well?"

I blush. "Very well. You?"

"Better than I ever have," he admits. "But I've got some bad news."

My heart drops. Here it is. Oh, God, this is the magic getting ruined. "What's that?"

"Last night was great … but it, uh, can't, you know, happen again." He pauses and works his jaw as he stops at a stop sign. "If I want to earn Gabe and Kara's respect, I can't do that with you under their roof. It ain't right or fair to them."

"What?"

He glances over at me. "You can't think last night was a good idea, Carter. That'll get me an execution notice if someone finds out."

"So you're saying last night was okay, just not in my house."

He nods slowly. "Exactly."

I fall back against my seat. "Oh, I thought—never mind."

"Wait, did you think I was telling you I don't want to see you anymore?" he asks. The car comes to a stop, and I worry he's decided to just stop in the middle of the road—he would be the one to do that—but instead he somehow parked us in front of a store without my noticing. "Is that what you thought?"

I try to come up with an excuse, but my mind goes blank.

"Carter."

"Yes, that's what I thought."

"Shit, I'm sorry," he murmurs. He reaches across the consul and lays his hand on my thigh. "I could've worded that better. See what I mean? I've got a learning curve here."

"Obviously I do, too."

"At least we're learning together, huh? Sort of like we're on an even playing field."

I guess that's good, although there's still that evil, vindictive side of me, which only comes out around Boone and wishes we weren't on level ground. I've always felt so behind and lost compared to him, so I wish this could be the one thing I'm good at.

"Is this the place?" I ask, successfully redirecting our conversation. I've passed this storefront a thousand times, but it's sort of a permanent fixture you forget about. I don't really remember a time when it's been in business, and it's one of those places that, even when it's owned, you don't expect it to be treated well. Hopefully it'll be different with Jason and Boone.

A grin spreads across Boone's face as he stares at the building. I don't think I've ever seen him beam like this. He's always been a kidder, trying to lighten up every situation, but this is different. He's … proud. "Yep, this is it. Jason's meeting us. This venture is going to be really good for all of us."

"Is it going to be weird with us … working together?"

"Not if we're together for the long haul. Even if we aren't, we'll make it work." He cups my chin and places a quick peck on my lips. "But I'm in it for the long haul."

It's hard for me not to yell, "Me too!" I want this to work also, but I'm not going to put myself in the position to lose ground by admitting it.

We both get out of the car and meet at the front. His fingers graze mine, then eventually tangling, faster than when he walked me home.

The door opens when we're close and Jason steps out. I asked Boone for his phone number so Kara and I could call him to thank him for being there yesterday. He barely even knows me, but he showed so much concern. Being business partners with him will be good for Boone. He hasn't had a lot of Jasons in his life. I need to keep reminding myself of that and remember there's a reason why Boone is the way he is. Fifty percent of it might be his own stupidity, but the other half is his upbringing.

"Hey, man," Boone says, giving him the ever so meaningful manly-chin-tilt greeting.

Jason, who doesn't really seem to care about looking cool, waves, then turns his attention to me. "How are you?"

"Better, thank you," I say. "Still a little shaken."

"Well, I'm glad Boone thought to offer you a job. You'll be a ton of help, and you'll be safer here.

Until the man finds out where I work now. Boone thinks this is going to be the magical cure-all, but I disagree. The man was desperate, and desperate people will do anything to get what they want. Even if Boone and Jason are here, it might not be enough to scare him off. Worse, there's also the chance neither of them will be here when he shows up again.

I smile at Jason, trying to make it seem as though I were agreeing, but my lips feel numb and forced.

Boone rests his hands on my lower back as he guides me inside. "How'd you get a hold of the keys?" he asks Jason.

"I talked with the realtor and told her we'd buy it, but we just want an extra look."

"How did Alex take the news."

Jason rubs his freckled arm. His cheeks turn a color which matches his hair. "She was kind of the one who persuaded me to say yes. You know I'm into the idea—I'm the one who brought it up—I'm just … I don't know …"

"Hey, you've got a family," Boone tells him. "You've got a whole hell of a lot more to lose if this goes south."

Do you want a family someday? I don't know why that pops into my head to ask. Would Boone be as worried about a business venture as Jason is if he had one? Does he want kids and a house and a dog and all of the other stuff I thought only happened on TV? He's been chasing me, but what if he doesn't know what he wants beyond that? What if he doesn't want the movie-esque life? Because I do. I want what I could've had if I'd been raised from the beginning by Kara and Gabe. I want to give my future children the life I never had.

I wander off because the weight of all those thoughts is too much. If I'm not careful, my sensor will temporarily short out, and I'll spill everything right in front of Jason. I'll want to be put down right then and there. We're not even to the naming-this-between-us step. I'm way too ahead of myself.

The good thing about the building is it was clearly a hardware store before, with what could be a general supply area and a back door leading to a small warehouse. Boone said they'd eventually like to make it a store in addition to the services they're going to offer. First thing's first is to make sure their venture is a successful one.

He told me about his plans last night, whispering excitedly as he held me. I felt just as excited because it was dark and I could let my guard down. Hearing him talk about the building and the business made me believe it could all happen. On top of it all, he sounded so mature, as though he really knew what he was doing and was prepared for it.

"So, that'll probably be your office."

I jump and turn around. Boone approaches me slowly with his hands up before he slips them to my hips. He's been extra careful about not scaring me, which is good. This morning I got up to go grab a drink and just running into Gabe nearly gave me a heart attack. Even when it's someone safe, I still feel out of control.

I hold my breath, then let it out. I need to focus on being relaxed. It's Boone and—while it's always an emotional roller coaster when it comes to him—he would never hurt me physically. I cover his hands with my own and let my back melt against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, and it calms me. The warmth of him brings me back to the present.

"Sorry," he says.

"It's okay," I tell him. I hate how I've made both him and Gabe feel bad for doing something that normally wouldn't bother me. "It's nice and spacious here."

I didn't even realize it, but I'm standing in the doorway of an office-sized room at the very back of the store. This area must have been an addition because the wall with the door on it is brick like the outside of the building. I can visualize painting the white walls terracotta to accent the brick to make it warm and inviting. I never imagined having my own office.

"We'll get you a desk and some shelves and whatever else you want." He points to the two doors, which are on either side of mine. "We'll be in here, but probably not much until we hire some other service techs. We'll be too busy solving all of the world's issues."

"You've got to solve your own, first," I say, playfully nudging him with my shoulder then kissing the underside of his jaw. "So, what exactly will be in my job description?"

"Well, I was thinking you'll have to let me kiss you at least once every fifteen …"

"Boone," I say.

"Well, pretty girl, that's my long-term goal for the rest of our lives. But as for here, I guess we'd like you to assume the role of our secretary for now. Schedule our appointments, keep us updated about what problems are coming our way, and maybe handle some of the bills. Eventually, maybe you could be the manager when we're up and running. That something you'd be interested in?"

"Bossing people around? Yes."

He laughs. "Be honest with me if that's not what you want."

"No, I do. The gas station wasn't enough for me, and I think that this will be fun—challenging. It'll give me a chance to do anything I want. Like maybe I can handle advertising or get a little creative for you guys."

"That would be great. Your bozo co-workers are about as creative as a rock with edges."

"Hey, I heard that!" Jason calls from the front of the store. "You should see the flowers I drew with my daughter yesterday. Pretty creative, if you ask me."

Boone squeezes me tighter and buries his face in my neck, muffling a laugh.

#

Carter, 17

Boone, 20

"So I don't know about you, but I hate this class," the girl whom I'm paired up with in Spanish class says. I think she's a grade below me, and I don't know what her real name is, only that she chose Cecilia as her Spanish name. Everyone in the class—probably the whole school—already knows she hates this class. She's been very vocal about it. "Don't you?"

I raise my eyebrows. "It doesn't really matter. We have to take it. It's a required class." I kind of hate every class, so why should I specify that, yes, I hate this class? That'd be like picking favorites. I think it'd be more original to ask me if I like a class.

She clucks her tongue disapprovingly. Obviously, she's officially decided I'm the worst partner ever. Hopefully she doesn't realize how bad I am at Spanish or else she'll hate me more than this class. I can't even pronounce the name I chose for myself right.

We're supposed to be matching up Spanish words with their definition, sort of like a puzzle. Most pairs are already almost finished. The incentive to win is a free pass from the next test, which I need. Kara's help is the reason why I've at least got a B-, and without the pass, we have a long night of studying ahead of us.

"Cecilia y Luciana, trabajen más rápido," our teacher says as he passes by our desk.

Cecelia gives him a blank stare, but I know what he's saying. He's told me to work faster so many times I'm to the point where it's next best phrase to "May I use the bathroom?"

I move around the cards just for effect. I hate being called out; it only brings attention to me. I've never really had many—well, any—friends at school, and I've found it's best to remain unnoticed.

The intercom makes a loud beep, signaling someone's about to speak. "Please send Carter Hart to the main office," the school secretary says, her nasal tone making the other students cringe.

"All right, she'll be down shortly," our teacher calls back.

I squint up at the ceiling. The only times I've ever gotten called through the intercom were when I forgot my lunch and when I had to leave early for a doctor's appointment. I don't know why I'm being called today, unless something came up at home. Hopefully Kara and Gabe are okay. Maybe I forgot something, or they thought I forgot something. Maybe they just want to save me from Spanish.

They're cool, but not that cool.

"Luciana, puedes irte," the teacher says.

That's a new phrase I definitely don't know. Still, I'll bet he's telling me to get a move on. At least I won't have to solve the puzzle or deal with Cecilia.

I quickly gather my things since I don't know how long this will take. Then I head out into the hallway and toward the front office. I immediately see Gabe standing at the front desk, watching for me. He's wearing the dress pants and tie he usually wears in when he's making rounds. There's something about his expressions that is sending off alarm bells in my head. He's not just pale and a little sweaty, but he's grimacing, and his normally bright eyes are clouded with concern.

Fear.

"Gabe? Where's Kara? Is she okay?" I ask when I'm inside the office.

"She's fine—she's going to meet us. She called me, and I was closer to you." He lets out a long breath, then steps closer to me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and bends down to my level. "It's Declan. He overdosed again."

I should be used to this by now. Only I'm not, and I don't think I ever will be, not when every time feels as though it were going to be the last. What if this is the time he dies? When was the last time I spoke to him—told him I loved him? What if I would've tried harder to get him to quit? Or maybe I shouldn't have been so hard on him. Maybe I should just learn to love him the way he is for as long as I can.

No, I can't do that. That would be like letting his addiction defeat me, too.

"Is he …" I choke into a sob.

"He's alive."

#

I feel as though I were six years old as I clutch Gabe's hand and let him lead me down the hall they said Declan's room is in. Even though Gabe said he's okay, I can't really believe it until I see him.

"You know what we're about to walk in on," Gabe says to me quietly. "They've probably got him hooked up to just about everything, and he's probably on something to get him off the drugs."

No amount of drugs meant to curb his addiction will help. My brother will be clean while he's in the hospital, and the second he's out, he won't be able to refuse a fix.

I stop right before his door and try to prepare myself. Gabe squeezes my hand and then lets go. There's nothing to say, really. He can't tell me Declan will be okay. Even if he survives his overdose, he's never really going to be okay. All I can do is try to keep my emotions at bay—armor up for this never-ending battle.

When I'm ready, I walk in. There are tubes everywhere, including one to help him breathe. His skin is pale and looks like it's been beaten then stretched over his bones. He's not awake, but he's in restraints. He's always violent coming out of his overdoses.

Kara is sitting at his side, absently rubbing her hand up and down his arm, which is covered in scabs and sores. She looks up when I walk in and immediately stands, opens her arms, and comes toward me.

"Hey, sweetie," she says as she envelopes me in a hug that smells like strawberries. I hug her back, while Gabe's hand rubs at my back. "The doctor came by and said he doesn't expect Dec to wake up for a few days."

"That'll be good—at least he won't have to go through as much of the withdrawal," I say, even though it's not like it matters. "Where was he found?"

A throat clears from the corner of the room. Without checking, I know it's Boone. I know it by the way my body starts to tingle and how my heart feels about thirty thousand different emotions ranging from love to hate to pissed off to perfect. I pull away from Kara to look at him.

I haven't seen him since he told me our kiss meant nothing. I can honestly say time doesn't heal all wounds. He looks thinner, but more bulky in muscle mass, and his hair is long enough to pull back. He's wearing black athletic shorts and a T-shirt with grease stains all over it. I try to take in everything but his apologetic, wounded-dog eyes. I'm not ready to forgive him.

"I found him," he explains, his voice rough. "I hadn't seen him for a while, so I went to some of his haunts. I found him in an abandoned house—no one else was there. I don't know how long he was out of it."

"It's a good thing you went looking," Kara tells him.

A pang hits my chest. I should've been looking, too. I've just gotten so tired of all the worrying and fear when there's really nothing I can do. Tired or not, abandoning him hasn't taken away my guilt. From now on, I need to be better. Even if he doesn't care, I need to make the effort.

"He was alone?" I ask.

He nods. "Someone must've been there recently, but I'll guess they all scattered when they realized he overdosed. Didn't want to be there when the cops showed."

How strong does your addiction have to be to make you more worried about your own self-preservation than a person who is literally dying right in front of you? Has Declan been in a reversed-situation? Has someone died or almost died because he's cared more about himself?

I don't have time to process the thought before bile rises up in my throat and I make a mad dash for the bathroom. I hurl myself at the toilet bowl just in time. All of the contents of my stomach and my emotions rise up and topple out.

Footsteps follow behind me, groping for my hair and lifting it away from my neck. “It’s okay, Carter. Let it all out,” Kara says soothingly.

Someone else follows in behind her. There’s enough room for everyone because it’s a sizable hospital bathroom, meant for a nurse and patient to be able to move around in. I know it’s Boone because he whispers, “Junebug,” under his breath and takes post on my other side. He rubs small circles into my back. Elsewhere, I can hear Gabe calling out to a nurse asking for a bottled water and nausea medicine.

“He’s not alone now,” Kara continues. “He has all of us. We love him, and he needs a lot of love if he’s going to get through this.”

Hideous crocodile tears start rolling down my cheeks and plop into the bile-ridden toilet. “I’m sorry,” I say.

Kara pulls me away from the toilet and into her arms. Boone flushes the toilet. We’re all sitting on the tiled floor, huddled together. Boon is still massaging my back.

“Why are you sorry?” she asks.

“Because I’m s-so stupid—I’m m-making this about m-me,” I manage.

Kara shakes her head. “You’re allowed to feel this way, Carter. Honestly, it’s better to get this out now rather than when he’s awake. You want to be strong for him, don’t you?”

I nod.

“Then you have to be weak right now.” She leans back, presses a kiss against my head. I notice that she’s crying, too. “We can all be weak together.”