It’s highly doubtful, he knows. His dad is a prick through and through. A horrible father. A horrible husband. A horrible human being, really. But the “what if” part is lost to Arden forever now. Could a man like his dad ever really change? Six months ago, Arden would have said no. But when his father was arrested, when Deputy Glass came to pick up the mighty Dwayne Moss and put him in handcuffs, hauling him to the back of a cop car, Arden saw his father’s face. It had been full of shame.
But maybe it’s like Deputy Glass—who is now running for sheriff—always says, “They’re never truly sorry. They’re just sorry they got caught.”
Arden supposes only time will tell. And he’s okay to leave it at that. Because time is what he’s got. That, and Carly.
“Did you get all your homework done and turned in?” Carly is saying, oblivious to his line of thought. “You can’t let your grades slip, if you’re serious about this football scholarship thing. Plus you’ve got to get into honors classes next year, in case football doesn’t work out.”
“Football is going to work out. But, yes, Mother, I did get all my homework done. You should have seen Mr. Tucker’s face when I handed it in. I thought he might pass out.”
She giggles. “He asked me if I was cheating for you, you know.”
“That guy hates me.”
“He’s just wondering why you’re bothering to pass his class all of a sudden.”
Arden hoists himself onto his elbow so he can look down at her. He’ll never get over those lashes of hers. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.” A lie. He knows exactly the reason he’s bothered to do anything productive these last months. Why he’s stopped feeling the need to go pranking, why he’s been doing his homework, why he’s been sleeping at night. And he’s looking right at her. This amazing, stabilizing force to be reckoned with, all wrapped up in this deliciously curvy body.
Her gaze lingers on his lips. It’s almost too tempting, not to kiss her. She knows exactly what that look does to him. “And what have you decided?” she says, sucking in her breath.
He lowers his head, until their noses almost touch. “That I have a reason to live again. Not just exist. To actually live.” He lets his mouth brush against hers, once, twice. “Do I have you, Carly?” he whispers. “Do I have you like you have me?”
“Always,” she whispers back.
And it’s all he needs to hear.