CARTER
My breath catches in my throat.
Caught in her gaze like this, I suddenly cannot move a muscle. Even my lungs have refused to expand to let air in.
I stand there, still as a f*****g statue and wait for her to say something. To relieve me of this f*****g torture so that I can go back to functioning like a normal human being. But she just blinks and turns onto her other side, facing away from me.
The breath I’ve been holding leaves my nostrils harshly.
She’s still angry. Of course, she is. What did I expect?
Pivoting, I head to my room. Sit on the bed, stare at a spot on the wall--I have no idea how long--fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Then I get up, whip my shirt over my head, toe off my jeans, climb onto the bed and lie face down on it.
One minute.
Two
