Page 12 of Carter

What the hell?

I discarded my glass of ice water on a small table and hurried toward the dance floor where Savannah had stripped out of her burgundy dress and a man, I didn’t know, with long, curly blond hair was fondling her from behind.

I removed my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders as soon as I reached her and pushed the man away with my hand.

“Back off, you dick.”

Savannah gazed at me, her pupils dilated and her cheeks red.

“What did you give her?” I asked the man.

“Nothing,” he said raising his hands in surrender. “She was already plastered when she came to get me.”

A high-pitched laugh exited Savannah’s mouth.

“Whatever.” I brought my attention to her. “Sav, come with me,” I said in her ear, close enough so no one could hear our conversation. “We need to get you to our room. What did you take?”

Savannah smiled. A devilish smile showing her extra-white teeth. “A blue pill.”

I blinked. What the hell? “Why?” My insides tightened in a ball, the knots multiplying. The desire to punch anyone or anything standing in my way grew bigger by the second.

Lava boiled in my veins.

My heart thundered in my chest, its pounding almost deafening.

All my muscles flexed.

I was about to explode.

Savannah raised her voice. “Because, Carter Hills, you’re no fun. You ignore me all the time at home but collect girlfriends everywhere we go. I’m done being an arm candy, a prize in your life, that you show off to look good.”

The knots in my stomach turned into a ball of red-hot rage.

Could smoke come out of my eyes?

When did my life become one big joke?

I inhaled, but it did nothing to cool the anger smoldering inside me.

If only the floor could open and suck me in.

I pasted a calm mask over my face—or I hoped I had—and led my girlfriend away.

We were almost at the elevator door when Savannah squirmed out of my grip. “Don’t touch me, Carter. I’m a big girl. And I’m sure someone here would fuck me since you don’t.” I stood there, frozen, while she lurched back toward the party.

It took a few seconds for me to react. Once I did, I stormed after Savannah and clasped her elbow, pulling her into my arms. Leaning in, I whispered in her ear. “Don’t make a scene here. You’re not in the right state of mind. Now let’s go.” My words sounded harsh. They gave her no place to argue.

The night was over.

I exhaled, trying very hard to keep my fury locked in.

Without another word, we reached our room on the thirty-seventh floor.

In the bathroom, I helped an intoxicated Savannah into the shower once I removed my jacket and her lacy underwear, her balled-up dress discarded on the counter. After undressing, I slid in the glass box behind her. Savannah said nothing as I washed her hair and massaged her back, trying to ease the air between us. She purred under my touch. The remnants of my anger melted away, flushed by the hot water.

A million scenarios ran through my mind. Some, where I flew back to Tennessee tonight—for good—after telling her I was done with our relationship.

Others, where we found our peace and learned to be together without tearing each other apart.