Page 118 of Carson

I sigh, sitting down on the bed beside her. “Luna, you can stay here as long as you like, but …”

Tears begin to pool, confirming my fears are valid.

“I’m going to need you to leave this room once in a while.”

Her shoulders fall in relief.

“At least to go to the bathroom,” I add.

She nods, swallowing hard.

Jesse comes in with a tray filled with every kind of fucking breakfast food there is.

I snag a muffin and Jesse slaps my hand away, taking it from me.

“Go get your own.” She nods toward the door, and I take the hint. She wants to make sure for herself that Luna is okay. She also wants to know whose ass she needs to set on fire.

I pat Luna on the leg. “Tell Jesse what you need, and she and I will run over to the cabin and pack you a bag, yeah?”

She nods; those pesky little tears spill over her cheeks despite her best effort to keep them at bay.

I head down the stairs and stop in front of the table filled with enough food for an army. I know Carson will be here soon, and I know exactly how he’s going to feel. He’s going to blame himself for leaving her.

It’s not going to help when he finds out she doesn’t want to leave.

What I don’t know is how he’s going to feel about me not making her.

Jesse comes down a while later.

“I’ve got a list …” she says, waving it sadly.

“Let’s wait a few until my dad gets here. I don’t want to leave her alone.”

She nods, falling into the chair beside me. “She said she was tired.”

“Yeah,” I say, letting go of the breath I’d been holding.

“She seems okay.”

I give her a look, and she sighs.

“Okay, I get it now.”

“It only took you over thirty years.”

She waves me off. “If she’s hiding it, then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to be there for her.” I lean across the table. “Just like I was for you.”

“Well then.” She settles back in her chair. “She’ll be just fine.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Carson

When we pull up to the cabin, Dad and Jesse are coming out.

I throw my helmet on the ground and run toward them, slowing when I see folded-up pieces of paper blowing from a box on the ground. A butterfly-shaped one lands at my feet.