Page 64 of Carter

And then there he was again talking about the case.

And now…herewe are. On our way to dinner, which is more normal than anything I’ve done in a very long time.

And that’s okay. This is okay.

Everything is going to be okay.

Because I don’t think anything can get worse than it already has been.

“So, do you have an update?” I ask, still wondering if this is part of why he was in a sour mood when he picked me up. I cut into my juicy steak and take a bite, holding back the moan becausewow, this is the best steak I have ever had.

“We’re narrowing down facilities. Nothing solid yet.”

I nod, then pause and look up at him. His full attention is on his food. I see the weight he carries in his stiff posture. He’s good at hiding it, but I see it. I always see it. Always have. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to talk to him in the bar. Maybe something on a primal level knew that he carried a lot of weight too.

“Thank you,” I say simply.

He looks up at me, brow furrowed. The look is almost intimidating, but not to me. Not anymore. I’ve gotten to know him better and can see past his rough exterior.

“For what?” he asks.

“Not giving up.”

His features soften and I give him a smile, wanting to keep it light. But he doesn’t smile back. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me like I’ve given him the mysteries of the universe.

“Would you like another glass of wine?” the waiter asks.

“Sure,” I answer, then look at Nash.

He’s still staring at me with that confused look but quickly snaps out of it and answers. “Please.”

The waiter takes our glasses and walks off to refill them.

I raise a brow at Nash. “You’re driving.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“When’s the last time you took a day off?”

“About two months ago, when I moved here.”

I laugh, and his face softens again, his eyes focusing on me. “Okay, what about before that?”

“Couldn’t tell you.”

“That’s depressing.”

“Occupational hazard.”

“I’ll say.”

The waiter returns with our glasses full of the red wine that was suggested because it pairs well with the steak. I’m not a wine drinker, because it goes right to my head, but I won’t deny itdoespair well with the steak.

“You know, I think if you came by the shelter more often, Teddy would warm up to you too,” I say as I cut into my steak for another piece. Each bite I take is delicious, but the more I eat, the less there is left and I want to keep enjoying it.

“Oh yeah? Why do you think that?”

“You’re both a lot alike.”