As Dead As It Gets

But what about what I wanted? What about the things that were important to me?

Suddenly, what I wanted was not to even be in that house.

“Wait,” I said, turning my head and setting my hands on his shoulders—firmly, but not quite pushing him away. “No.”

He stopped and looked at me questioningly.

“I’m going to go,” I said. “I really have a lot of work to do, and I’m not getting it done here.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “You’re leaving? Because I don’t feel like watching you sit and use my computer and ignore me?”

Okay, yeah, it was his computer. But if he couldn’t find something else to do for a half hour while I worked on something that I’d made it really clear was important to me—

I mean, I could put up with it. I’d been putting up with it for nearly two months.

But why should I?

“Alexis,” Jared said sharply. “You’re acting like a child.”

Everything in my body that had been warm and tingly turned cold when I heard the edge in his voice.

I gave him a sideways glance. He was looking at me as if I were crazy.

“You know what I mean,” he said, softening. “Don’t overreact.”

I heard Elliot’s words in my head: Find the people who treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Tell everyone else to go to hell.

Forget this. I reached for my camera. “I’m not overreacting, Jared. I’m leaving.”

“Please don’t.”

“I have to.” I knelt to put the scattered books in my bag. “I’ll give you a call later…or tomorrow.”

But when I turned for the door, I found him standing squarely in my way.

A moment passed between us.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Can’t we behave like grown-ups?” His jaw trembled, like he was losing patience with me. “I don’t understand. Things were completely fine two minutes ago.”

Yeah, fine for him. Not for me.

“I am behaving like a grown-up,” I said. “I’m going to go get some work done. Like a grown-up.”

“You know what? Fine. Do it here. I don’t care. I’ll just find something else to do.” But he didn’t say it like he meant it. He said it like he wanted me to hear, in every word, how irrational I was being and how wrong I was.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, reaching behind him and putting my hand on the doorknob. “I’ll go to the library.”

He looked down at me, his expression businesslike. “I would really prefer it if you would be mature for once, Alexis.”

I stared at him. What would I do if he refused to move?

Don’t be paranoid, I told myself. He wouldn’t refuse to move.

Except…he didn’t move.

And then my phone rang, making us both jump. I grabbed it from my pocket and answered without checking the caller ID. I’d have happily had a heart-to-heart with Agent Hasan at that moment if it meant getting out of that house.

I was vividly aware that Jared was watching me, so I forced myself to play it cool. “Hello?”

“Alexis?”

It took me a second to place the voice. “Carter?”

A wave of irritation flashed through Jared’s eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you busy?”

“Um…” I looked at Jared. “No.”

“Okay. I have something for you. I mean, for you and the yearbook. I was thinking maybe I could run it over after di

“Where are you right now?” I asked.

“What? I’m home right now, but—”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll be right over.”

“Really? Are you sure? Okay,” Carter said. “If you want to. See you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye.” I slid the phone into my pocket.

Jared’s face had fallen; his mouth turned down at the corners, and all of the tension had gone out of his body, from his jaw to his shoulders to his hands. “Please, Alexis—can’t you stay? I’m really sorry. I know I can be a jerk. I’ve always liked being the center of attention.” He gave a weak half laugh. “I mean, my mom used to tell me I should have a spotlight installed in a hat so I could wear it around.”

I relaxed a little, taken aback by this first-ever mention of his mother. “Jared…what happened to your mom?”

“Happened to her?” He looked puzzled. “She’s in Colorado with my stepfather.”

Oh.

“So could you please just stay?”

Back up a second. If his mother was alive and well, then what was his pain, his baggage? I felt oddly like I’d been misled, although that wasn’t true at all. I’d just assumed. And obviously I’d assumed wrong.

So that meant there was something else he was hiding from me?

“No,” I said. “I can’t. We can talk later.”

I slipped around him and left, shutting the door behind me.

THE “SOMETHING” CARTER HAD FOR ME ended up being a vintage Surrey High sweatshirt that he’d seen at a garage sale.

“I mentioned it to Elliot,” he said, laying it out on the couch so I could see it, “and she said she thought it would be cool to have a picture of it in the yearbook. I think it’s from the forties.”

I stared down at the sweatshirt, trying to focus. But I couldn’t really get over the fact that I was standing in Carter’s house—in his living room—for the first time since October.

“It’s great,” I said.

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty cool.”

Since I’d just proclaimed it “great,” I thought it might be wise to actually take a look. It had really baggy sleeves and tight cuffs, and the neckline was so high and tight it seemed like it would choke you. There was a threadbare red S on the front with a small embroidered eagle above it.

“All right,” I said, scooping it up. “Thanks. I’ll get it back to you soon. Or Marley will.”

“No rush.” Carter followed me into the foyer. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

I shrugged. No need to tell him that the primary reason I’d agreed to come was that I wanted an excuse to get out of Jared’s house. “No problem.”

He brightened. “Thanks. So you’re really into yearbook, huh? That’s nice. I mean, I’m glad. They’re good people.”

I glanced around. “Where’s Zoe?”

“Um…” Carter stood awkwardly, with his hands shoved into his pockets. “She’s…home, I guess? I don’t really know.”

I reached for the doorknob. “Okay, see you later.”

“I’ll walk you out.” He hurried to open the door for me. Then he followed me to the driveway, where my car was parked next to his. “Is this yours?”

“Yeah, I got it for Christmas.”

He stood back and looked it over. “It’s really…brown.”

“Go ahead, say it,” I said. “It’s ugly.”

“I’d never say that.”

“Not out loud, at least.”

And then he was giving me that impish Carter look, and my heart felt like two pieces of Velcro being ripped apart.

“It drives,” I said. “That’s what matters.”

“Does it have a name?”

I opened the passenger door and set the sweatshirt on the front seat before I looked at him. “A name?”

“All cars have names.”

“Does yours?”

“Of course.”

It was a cool afternoon, and I was begi

But instead, he automatically took off his own sweatshirt. As he brought it near my shoulders, I flinched, and he stopped short.

The cold made me shake from my toes to the top of my head, but I said, “Don’t. Please.”

He nodded and backed off, looking abashed and a little disoriented. I felt the same way. Gestures like that had been second nature to us once, but now it was too personal, too much of a reminder of what we’d had.

What we’d lost.

“So,” I said through my chattering teeth. “What’s your car’s name?”

“Ayn Rand.”

I had to laugh. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” he said. “What, is that dumb?”

“It’s…unusual,” I said. “I don’t think you could call it dumb.”

He was watching me closely. “It’s good to see you smiling.”