My reflection had spoken back to me.
That was officially crazy sauce.
I started pacing again, avoiding my reflection just in case it decided to have another impromptu conversation. What just happened could not have been a memory, and there was no way I could explain it as anything other than a good ol’-fashioned delusion.
I’d imagined calling myself a liar after I said I couldn’t hurt someone. Nice, really nice. Tucking my hair back, I dragged in a deep breath, but it got constricted in my chest. Needing to get out of the room and possibly even the house, I threw open the door and rushed out into the hallway.
Rounding the corner, I smacked right into a rock-hard body with enough force that the poor guy let out a grunt and hit the floor. Thrown off balance, I toppled down on him. In a second, I recognized the clean, citrusy scent.
Carson.
Our bodies were pressed together in all the wrong places. Or the right places, depending on how I wanted to look at it. Not that I thought it was right. It was definitely wrong, especially the way his chest felt incredibly muscled under mine, his stomach like steel. Heat zinged through my veins.
Carson’s hand curved around my waist as his head lifted slightly. We were so close I could see the darker flecks of blue near his pupils. So close that his warmth breathed new life into the dark, empty spaces inside me. My gaze fell to his lips, and I wanted to know so, so badly how they felt. To taste his kiss. To let go of all the strings tethering me to the old Sammy and lose myself in him. Funny how all my worries about being insane suddenly went out the window.
Those lips spread into a crooked half smile. “Hey there, Sam….”
“Hey,” I whispered. “Were you coming to see me?”
His smile spread into a full one, and my heart skipped a beat. One of his front teeth was chipped at the bottom. “I was actually here to see Scott, but…”
“Oh.” I felt like the biggest dork ever. “Then you better get going.”
“Yeah, I should.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my stomach tightened. “But you’re going to have to get off me first. No rush. Just saying.”
My cheeks caught fire. “Good point.”
“It is,” he murmured.
I still hadn’t moved. The apocalypse could be going down outside and I would remain right where I was. My body pressed against Carson, his hand tightening on my waist.
So caught up in whatever this was, neither of us heard my brother until he spoke. “Do I want to know what you guys are doing?”
Carson chuckled deeply, and I felt the sound in every cell. “We’re just wrestling.”
“Really,” Scott replied drily.
I rolled off Carson and pushed to my feet. “I ran into him—in the hallway and knocked him down.” I felt the need to explain. “We weren’t wrestling…or doing anything.”
Scott’s lips twitched as if he was fighting a grin. “It’s all right, Sam. I’d rather see you rolling around with Carson out in the open than Del.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s not—”
“Hey!” Carson said, dropping his arm around my shoulder. “We have your brother’s permission.”
“Man, you must really hate Del,” I said, ignoring the way the whole left side of my body was pressed against Carson’s.
Scott rubbed the heel of his palm over his temple. “Yeah, well, I don’t like him.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t,” he replied, and then turned around, heading back into his bedroom.
I wiggled out from under Carson’s arm. “Well, I’ll see—”
“Hey.” He caught my arm, stopping me. “Where were you heading in such a hurry?”
“I was just going to…take a walk.”
“It’s almost nine.”
I shrugged, and my stomach took that moment to grumble. “Or get something to eat. Maybe some ice cream. I saw a carton of double chocolate earlier. I can’t remember the last time I ate ice cream.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop. “Granted, I can’t remember much of anything, so that doesn’t say much. Yesterday I discovered I love hamburgers without tomatoes. No pickles, but extra bacon.”
Carson’s grin grew the longer I talked. “How about cheese?”
“I’m ambivalent toward cheese.” I grinned. A few days ago, I had one of those moments where I couldn’t stop talking with Del, and he’d been less than amused by it.
Carson let go of my arm. “So, back to the ice cream…you sure you saw some?”
“Yep.”
“Mind company?”
My heart got all kinds of happy at that suggestion. “I thought you were here to see Scott.”
“He can wait.” Carson nudged me with his shoulder. “Can’t he?”
I peeked at him, deciding that sharing some ice cream wasn’t a cardinal sin and I could use the distraction. “Sure.”
Carson followed me downstairs and through the rooms. It took me a couple of moments to find the bowls and silverware. Then I dug out the ice cream. He piled his bowl high with mound after mound of chocolate goodness. I added three large scoops to mine, and then we sat at the bar, facing each other.
“Where are the parents?” he asked, smashing the ice cream with the back of his spoon.
“I don’t know where Dad is, but Mom’s in bed.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “I think that’s all she does. Was she always like that?”
He glanced up as he took a bite. “I didn’t see her often. She kind of has a problem with me being in the house, so I usually try to limit my visits.”
I frowned. “Why?”
He smashed some more of his ice cream. “Your mom isn’t big on me hanging out in the house because of my dad.” Pausing, he shrugged. “She probably thinks I’m going to steal some of her art.”
I clenched the spoon so tightly I wouldn’t have been surprised if it bent. “That’s so messed up. Your dad is no different than mine. They just do different jobs. I don’t get what the big deal is.”
He had that look again—the one that made me feel as if I were a puzzle he couldn’t even begin to figure out. “You know what I always thought was funny?”
“What?”
“From what Scott has said, your dad was very much like mine, before he met your mother. Didn’t have a lot of money, came from the working class and whatnot, so I could never figure out how he ended up with your mom.”