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C A R T E R

The sunlight falling over my face through the windows breaks my sleep first. I squeeze my eyes, bringing a hand up to shield them from the early morning notoriety. Pain shoots up as I try to move my other arm, causing me to realize that there is an extra weight over it. I blink, looking down at the softness that is attached to my body.

Amaya is on the floor with me, sharing the mat. My heart stills when I take in her solemn presence beside me. A heavy quilt, one which I remember putting over her after I carried her to the other side of the bed, now covers us both. Her dress has ridden up in her sleep, leaving the soft, creamy flesh of her thighs bare to my eyes. I know I shouldn't be staring but I do so shamelessly.

It is difficult to stop once I start to recall having run my hands over and over through those thighs as I ate her out. If we could rewind five years, this would have been our morning routine - my face between her legs as I woke her up with my tongue. She loved that.

Not that she would now.

I lift my hand at the thought that I might accidentally end up touching her inappropriately. My other arm remains trapped under her head. I don't remember when she came down here either. I must have been in a deep sleep. Just the thought that Amaya Sommers was sharing a room with me was enough to bring me peace last night. Even now, the muscles in my body want to curl up behind her, hold her body to me as I hide my face in the crook of her neck.

As Dawson already said once, I am hopeless when it comes to her.

I groan when my attempts to pull my hand out slowly from under her fail. She shifts instead, murmuring something in her sleep as she twists around. I suck in a breath while she turns to face me, her hands wrapping over my torso and she lays her head on my chest, right over the place where my heart is supposed to be.

If it is still there, I wish it all the luck because I have stopped inhaling air. Amaya's flowery perfume is the only thing that hits my nose, sending the blood in my body rushing to my head. She is touching me in the most inappropriate ways in her sleep, her legs sliding between mine as she rests her mouth right on my chest. The heat of her body is inviting, tempting me in sinful ways.

"Fucking hell..." I grumble, raising both of my hands over my head as I glance at the crown of my head.

She appears so calm this way. Her face is lost in dreams, a soothing air taking over her whole body. She breathes softly, unknown to the fact that she is killing me with this intimacy this early in the morning. I take a glance at the clock on the wall, seeing the time reading close to 7 am. It is early but the office hours start at nine. We both have to be there on time.

However, I have no intention of waking her up. At least in her sleep, she still likes me enough to surrender herself to me. My heart is pounding in my chest. The more she shifts, the faster it beats. My hands remain suspended in the air, making me appear cartoonish. I don't give a damn. This is what I have missed for all these years. Us.

Suddenly, my dreams break as Amaya's eyes snap open. She stays frozen for some time and then slowly tilts her head up, her gaze landing on me.

"Fuck!' she curses, tearing herself away from me and sitting up.

She drags her body down the mat and onto the floor, her palms resting flat on both sides of her body. Her chest rises and falls fast as she gives me a mortified look. I remain speechless, taking my time to get up from my lying position. The quilt surrounds her leg as color rushes in her cheeks. I almost forgot how breathtaking Amaya looked in the mornings just after she woke up.

She looks breathtaking even now, causing parts of my body to become torturously hot, craving to touch her.

"Hey," I manage to let out. "Good morning."

Her eyes move over me, taking in the sheets, and the more she looks on, the redder her face gets. She swallows a gulp, shaking her head and getting up from the floor.

"Why didn't you wake me up, Carter?" she complains without even wishing me a good morning.

Her movements are frantic as she reaches for her handbag which I kept on the bedside table last night. While I rise from the floor, I find her taking out her phone. She types on the screen hurriedly and then puts the phone to her ear. I stand there looking like a lost puppy as she turns to me, a worried look getting her whole face.

"Hello, Mom?" she says over the phone. "Is Parker up? Is he okay?"

Her questions are frantic, making me wonder about how worried she must be for the son we both know is safe with his grandparents. She runs her fingers frantically through her long brunette locks, her face appearing fixed to the expression of permanent stress.

I have only been a father for a week now and it makes me ashamed of myself, knowing that I am the reason behind her obsessive worry for Parker. I swear, if only I had known that she was pregnant the day I left, I would have chosen a different path for us altogether. I would have taken both of us away. We would have been lost from the world, hidden but I would have kept her safe on my own merits and not depending on my grandfather.

"Oh...okay...Tell him Mommy will be home soon," Amaya says and then cuts the call.

She picks up her handbag, slings it over her shoulder, and looks at me, her lips parted slightly like she has just realized that there is someone else in the room too.

"Is Parker okay?" I ask her, my voice raspy and sleep-infused.

She blinks and then nods, looking away from me. "Thank you for letting me sleep here last night. I appreciate that, Carter."

Fuck! She is saying that like I did her a favor. That's not true. She did me a favor by accepting to share the room with me. She might think it is not a huge thing considering we shared the same bed for four years but for me, last night was a step closer to getting her back.

"Won't you stay for breakfast?"

She blinks some more, probably thinking my question to be absolutely stupid after everything that went between us in the elevator last night. My eyes fall on the ring on her finger, making me clench my fists, my body growing rigid at her impassive gaze.

"No, thanks for offering," she replies in a formal tone.

We stare at each other, both of us looking out of place and without words. Five years and we are finally alone, together, yet distanced from each other. She had once seen the boy I was behind my walls. Now, I have rebuilt the walls between us and it fucking kills me that I can no longer reach her.

"Hm...I have to go." She purses her lips, seeming uncomfortable by my stare. "See you at the office, Carter."

She doesn't wait for me to say something back as she struts towards the door, pulls it open, and walks out. I stand in my place, realizing too late that I am letting her go again.

"Amaya, wait!"

I run to the hall, watching her step into the private elevator. She hears me and turns, her sight finding mine just as I reach the elevator too. The doors shut, however, just at that moment, giving me one last glance at her face before the elevator indicates its descent.

I missed her again.

The sound of slow clapping from behind me catches my ears. I spin on my heels, seeing a sleepy-faced Dawson with his suit gone and just in his white shirt, being the performer of the act. He has a bemused look on his face and is on his knees on the couch. I know he is mocking me without needing his clarification.

"Excellent work, Carter!" he exclaims, forcing energy into his voice.

"Shut up, Dawson," I growl at him, pushing my hand through my hair as a yawn leaves my throat.

My steps begin to drag me back to my room where an inviting bathroom lies, needing my presence for both freshening up and a cold shower.

"No, seriously, Carter. You outdid yourself last night!"

Dawson falls into a step behind me as his slurpy voice follows me into my room. I enter the bathroom and see his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He has his arms crossed as he leans on the doorway, a wry smile decorating his lips.

"Nothing happened last night."

I pick up my toothbrush, put the paste on it, and begin to brush my teeth. Dawson chuckles, his deep voice echoing in the bathroom.

"I know. You wouldn't look this pissed if you slept with her. Isn't that what you aimed to do last night? You thought you'd be able to seduce her since nothing else worked and then she would suddenly realize that she is still in love with you and come jumping back into your arms. Damn...Carter...Your attempts were weak, that I knew but last night was just pathetic."

I rinse my mouth and turn to face him. I don't need a mirror to know how sullen my face appears right now since whatever he is saying is exactly the truth. Sex was my last option and I had planned to get Amaya into my bed. I had it all planned - from the flirting to the foreplay to the final act.

Wrong as the thought was, it was my last resort, and apparently, sleep beat me to her.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask Dawson. "How do I feel about being a loser? Or how I behaved like an absolute douche last night?"

"I'm just surprised that another of your pathetic attempts failed. Pray, why don't you just tell her the truth? Maybe she would consider forgiving you? Remember how you told me all that went down between you two all those years ago. Have you considered just coming clean and saving yourself from this embarrassment?"

"It isn't that easy, Dawson."

"But why? What's the fucking problem, dude?"

The fucking problem, which I can't tell him, is Amaya's psychological diagnosis. She was diagnosed with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in the last year of our relationship, the cause of it being none other than Panther Black's death. I remember everything about that year - Amaya's loss of appetite, sleep, her depressive stages, her panic attacks, the times when she entirely forgot her present mind and got lost in the labyrinth of the basement.

Dawson can never know that. That's our secret - Amaya's and mine.

"You won't get it."

I rub my face with a towel just as the ring of Dawson's phone interrupts us. He pulls it out from his pocket, receiving it with his smirk on.

"Yeah...hmm..." he says to the person on the other end while giving me a side-eyed glance. "Yeah...okay sure. Does she have a permit?...Oh...okay...allow her in."

He cuts the call and meets my curious stare.

"Who was it?"

"The love of your life is at the office," he informs.

"Amaya? But she just left here."

Dawson sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exasperated shake of his head.

"Correction - the self-proclaimed love of your life is at the office."

I turn ice-cold at the news.

Screw my life!

Molly is here.

•••

author's note

a Friday update just as I promised. I can't promise a Sunday update yet since I want to focus on completing another one of my projects for now but you're getting an update next week for sure.

we have chapter titles now!

we finally get to know the reason behind Carter's silence. We'll find out more about that in the later chapters but I hope you liked this one! Also, Molly is back. I know how much you guys hate her. Lol.

please don't forget to comment and vote! It means a lot. ✨