Chapter Thirty-Six

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*There is use of homophobic slurs and crude language in this chapter*

Walking home, Carter shoved his closed fists in his pockets, locking his jaw with cementing tension. His brain felt like a still iceberg in the dark night, floating heavy and frozen, waiting for the catastrophic crash to erupt. 

The crash only came when he got to his room, though.

His mom greeted him as she left her car, and Carter passed her without acknowledgement, rushing inside. He nearly knocked into Frankie on his way up the stairs, and shut his door with an audible bang right in Bella's face. 

The jittery panic settled in as soon as he dropped his bags on the floor. When he finally sat down on his bed, his head was spinning.

A wave of cold, paralyzing anxiety rushed down his body, looping around his ribcage and slithering its way inside, around his heart, gripping with crippling force. He sunk his head into his open hands, elbows propped onto his knees, holding his breath for a couple of seconds. When that only increased the sensation of dizziness, Carter kneaded his fingers through his hair and pulled. He kept pulling as his mind worked through the latest thread of events.

Johnny was hurt. Somebody had hurt him. He was worried. He wanted Johnny to let him help. And then Coach walked in.

Coach saw them.

Coach knew.

Somebody knew.

There was a knock on his door.

"May I?" Mike's voice asked, opening a little when Carter didn't answer. "Dinner is ready. Wanna come down?"

Carter stood up then, looking at the time on his phone. It was past nine. He hadn't noticed time go by. He walked to his door and opened it.

"Actually, I haven't showered yet," he said in a low voice.

Mike nodded. "Okay. I'll let them know you'll be coming down after."

Carter tried to convey a grateful smile, but it came off feeble-like. Mike left him nonetheless, to join his family downstairs for dinner. Carter slipped into the bathroom.

The shower did nothing to ease his mind. And he lost track of time again. When he finally came down, only his plate and Tony's tuna lasagna were on the table. Frankie and Luca were sitting on the couch with little Charlie between them.

"Your mom's in the kitchen helping Bella with the dishes," Frankie said over his shoulder. "My dad's outside with Mike, trying to fix the reclining lever on the passenger seat."

"We left you a full dose though," Luca added, referring to the sizable corner piece of lasagna left on the tray.

Carter wasn't very hungry though. Or hungry at all. His stomach felt like a rock-hard bundle of intricate knots.

He grabbed his tableware in one hand and the lasagna tray in the other and walked into the kitchen, just in time to see his mother and Bella laugh at something. The sight sent another pulse of dull discomfort through his body. 

They both turned to look at him, as he set everything he was carrying on the table. Bella's cheerful expression fell completely and she turned back around to the open dishwasher with an eye roll. His mother watched him get a Tupperware box from a cupboard on the side and use his clean fork and knife to accommodate the leftover lasagna inside.

"You're not eating, honey?" She asked softly, as he closed the box and moved to store it inside the fridge.

Carter shook his head as way of answer and Abby tilted her head to the side.

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