“What about me? I don’t have an Ivan, just lots of dogs that want to go to the dog park.” I dig around in my noodles, looking for a piece of chicken so I don’t have to meet his eye.
“You wanna talk about God-given talent? How about you with animals? I go away for two weeks and come back to a completely different dog. Out of all the people who tried, and Christ, were there a lot of them, you’re the only one she connected with.Thatis incredible.”
“No,” I laugh, my throat tight. “I just know how to get the best out of them. It’s just experience.”
“Call it whatever you want, but you’ve got me impressed. And for what it’s worth, you certainly don’t need an Ivan.” His smokey voice cuts straight through me, holding my lungs hostage and sending my heart running at top speed. I glance up at him through my lashes, my face heating.
Carson gives me a long, sincere look.
“How are you so nice?” I ask. “Celebrities are supposed to be assholes, but you’re generous to a fault. You’re sincere, thoughtful, and you somehow see the best in everybody.”
He shrugs. “I was raised not to think I was better than anyone else. I guess it just stuck. I know where I came from. I got plucked off a dirt farm because I had a decent voice and straight teeth. I try to remember that most people don’t get that lucky.”
“That’s the fucking truth,” I say with a wry laugh.
“I take it you didn’t get plucked off the dirt farm?” Carson tilts his handsome face, watching me curiously.
“That would imply that my mom owned property. Or the sobriety to plant a garden, let alone run a farm.”
Carson winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"
I hold up a hand to stop him. “It’s okay. I clawed my way out of it and made my own life. Far, faaaar from her. It’s taken me ten years, but I made it.”
Carson frowns, a deep furrow forming between his brows. “I thought you were 26.”
“I am. I’m an April baby so… 26 and a quarter.” He’s still frowning. “I ran away.” I admit, exhaling hard. This isn’t something I talk about. Like, ever. People either pity me or look down on me when I do. But Carson is just watching me, waiting for me to go on. My hands are shaking. I put my food down and hold them in my lap so he won’t notice. I think a piece of my soul would die if he looked at me in pity.
“Every time she went on a bender or scored meth, I had to beg a friend to let me sleep on their couch. And when I couldn’t find one, I had to sleep at the park. By the time I turned 16, I’d had enough. I figured anything would be better than the life I had, so I took off.”
“Holy shit,” Carson says, a growl edging into his voice. I shrug, but I’m surprised at his anger. Anger on my behalf.
“It’s okay. I made it this far.” I smile at him because there’s nothing else I can do.
“Where did you go?”
“LA. Probably not the best choice for a 16-year-old girl, but it was easier to hitchhike toward LA than away from it.”
Carson runs a hand through his hair, visibly upset. “Did you at least have someone to stay with when you got there?”
“Kind of…” I hedge but lying to him feels wrong, and I can see from his expression that he doesn’t believe me. “Okay, no. I lied and said I was 18 and slept in shelters until I saved enough for my car. Then I slept there until I could afford a room. It wasn’t awful…” It really was. “You just had to watch your back.”
“That’s why you warn people not to wake you up.” His eyes are steely.
“Unless they want to get punched in the dick?” I laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“I hate that. I hate it for you, I mean.” Carson’s hair is all roughed up from his manhandling.
“Don’t,” I plead. “It is what it is. Obviously, I wish my mom wasn’t a mean-ass, methed-up alcoholic, but lots of kids have shitty childhoods. I came through. I fought. And now I can look back and be proud of how far I’ve come instead of wallowing in her misery. There’s power in that.”
Carson nods, finger-combing his hair out of his eyes. “I still hate that you were alone.”
I blush, remembering the bit of company I did have. Trust never came easy to me, especially after sleeping in the shelters. Until Carson, I hadn’t told anyone about any of it. I didn’t want to make myself a target or come across as weak; something to be preyed upon. Even when I’ve dated other men, I never opened up like this.
Biting my lip, I debate if I should admit the truth. Then, Carson lays his hand over my forearm, and the warmth of his palm heating my skin makes me brave. Still, I rub my forehead “Oh, lord. I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this… I had a CD. Just one. And crappy headphones and a really crappy little personal CD player.”
Carson leans in, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off of his body. I can see the tiny freckle on his collarbone, and each of his long lashes as he blinks at me. A small smile starts at the corners of his lips, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to say it out loud.
“Okay, don’t look so smug!” I laugh. “Obviously, you know it was yours. But it’s not like I was some crazy obsessed teenager with your picture on my binder. I just—your voice made me feel better. Less alone. It gave me something to focus on other than my shitty luck.”