"Easy tiger…" Carter grabs the whiskey bottle and sets it back up onto the shelf. I shoot him a look and pull the bottle back down, refilling my glass.
"Judson, I know you are pissed and confused but is this really what you want." He glances toward the bottle.
"Carter, would you just shut the fuck up? I really don't need you judging me right now for having a drink." He pulls back with his hands up in surrender.
"Do you understand what is going on right now?" I slam my already empty glass down on the counter, not giving him any time to respond before continuing my mini rampage.
"Carter, the man that I have hated since I was twelve, is not my real father. I love Blakely, but I can't even be with her because I am so fucking worried he will do something to hurt her. I want to marry her, Carter. Forever. I never thought I would ever feel something like that, and just when I do, Ryan gets out of prison and comes back into my life to make me miserable. Don't even get me started on Jay. I love that kid more than anything." I take a deep breath before placing the bottle back on the shelf.
"It doesn't even matter. Blakely probably already thinks I'm certifiably insane. I've already fucked everything up with her the day he came back, and I walked away like a bitch."
Carter loosens his tie and pushes the stool away from the countertop. "She will understand, Judson. Maybe you shouldn't shut her out. Do you really think Ryan would hurt her?"
"Carter, he hit his own kids." The realization washes over his face as he blows out a breath, "Shit, you're right." He is silent for a few minutes before finally asking, "So what are you gonna do?"
Damn, I wish I knew.
CHAPTER 36
BLAKELY
January 4
I push myself up onto my elbows as I roll over to check my phone. It's still dark outside, which isn't surprising since I haven't been sleeping much. School starts on Monday, so I have the weekend to prepare, and honestly, I'm feeling a little anxious about it.
When I thought I had a support system, everything felt easy, but now I just feel alone. I want this, though, and I want it for me. Surprisingly, I was accepted as a transfer. However, they did tell me last minute, generating a small panic attack.
Luckily, I was able to get my therapy appointments to work around my school schedule. To say I'm nervous about school with only one hand is an understatement. I've still been figuring out my everyday one-handed tasks, and it's been challenging, to say the least.
I decide to get up and make my way over to my small kitchen in the tiniest apartment known to man. It's basically just one room, besides the bathroom, which is barely big enough to turn around in. But it's cheap, and I have to admit, it's got good bones. This old historical structure has character, and the walls are all exposed brick. Three large windows spanning the wall let in an astonishing amount of light, and as much as I try to hate it, I can't. Even if it's not where I'd rather be.
I press the power button on the Keurig, deciding Dolly was right and I really could use a cup of ambition. The desk that I put together a couple days ago sits close to the window. I glance over at the counter, eyeing the four screws I mysteriously had left, and give the desk a good wiggle. I followed the instructions but somehow managed to have leftover parts. I'm sure something was missed, but it hasn't fallen to the ground yet, so I shrug my shoulders, taking a seat in the chair. Which didn't have any leftover screws—small victories here.
I push the laptop open and work on editing several photos that need to be sent out. I have a wedding to shoot tomorrow, and truthfully, I'm looking forward to getting my mind off of Judson and spending the day with Hanna.
After spending several hours in town, shopping and picking up several things I needed for classes, it's time for dinner. I decide I should head back home and whip something up. The apartment location has been a lifesaver with public transportation. There is a bus that comes directly to my building. I need to get a new car, but I'll admit I'm kind of afraid of driving by myself. I know that sounds silly, but I have developedPost Traumatic Crash Disorder.
Barging through the door, I toss my bags on the floor and fling my coat on the coat rack.
"Shit." I curse myself as I open the fridge and decide to order take out.
After the longest 45 minutes of my life, with my belly growling and my patience reaching the brink of explosion, the doorbell rings. I stomp to the door and fling it open, "Well, it's about time! Haven't you ever heard of under-promise and over-deliver?"
The man at the door looks at me like I have lost my ever-loving mind. This is obviously not the guy from "China Dragon." My eyes go wide as I take him in. He towers over me, dirty blonde hair and a suit that screams, "Hi, I'm important! Respect me right now!".
I take a step back, "Um… I'm sorry, I was… well, someone is coming…"
He looks at me with a smirk, "Are you always that rude to the delivery guys?"
I have no idea who he is, but I decide to banter with him because, well… he asked for it. Also, let's be real, I'm a little mouthy.
"Only the really late and annoying ones. Who are you?"
"Carter Graham, Judson's friend." I look him up and down.So this is Carter?He certainly does look like a hotshot attorney from Atlanta.
"Are you going to invite me in?" I step back on my heels.
"Can I see some ID?"