Chapter 22 - "You want to crash here on the couch?"

                                    

                                          
Link blinked, his surprise still controlling his features. Carter shifted again and he pulled himself from his shock.
                          
"Sure," he said. "Come in."
                          
Carter walked into an apartment with a wide, open layout. A living room to the left held a beige couch and two vanilla armchairs, while the kitchen to the right held granite countertops. Floor to ceiling windows showcased the darkened city and the top of the Capitol building. Carter knew in a glance that her apartment could fit in Link's living room and kitchen. 

                          
"It looks like the child support checks are still coming in," she said.  
                          
Link flinched and she let out a weary sigh. 
                          
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't come here to insult you. I really didn't." 
                          
He shrugged as if the comment hadn't affected him. Carter turned to the living room where Donovan sat in one of the armchairs. A disassembled gun lay spread out on the coffee table alongside a box of pizza. He was watching her, his face unreadable. 
                          
"Is your mother here?" she asked Link. 
                          
Link shook his head. "She's at the office," he said. "Big court case. I have no idea when she will be home. It's usually never before three."
                          
Carter nodded. Link rubbed his neck, looking at her. 
                          
"Uh...do you want to sit down or something?" he asked. 
                          
"Sure," she said. 
                          
"I can leave," Donovan said, as Link and Carter joined him in the living room.
                          
Carter shook her head. 
                          
"No," she said. "It's fine." 
                          
Both guys looked at her. Carter took a deep breath, trying to form the sentences that would explain her presence. When her brain produced nothing and the silence stretched on, she balled her fists, nervous energy dancing in her finger tips. 
                          
"Carter," Link said, "what's going on?" 
                          
She cracked her knuckles and looked between them, unable to hold their gazes for longer than a second. Link glanced at Donovan who shook his head, silently telling him to wait. Carter's gaze dropped to the coffee table and the handgun that lay on top. 
                          
Needing something to distract her, she reached for the pieces. Donovan jerked forward but was halted as he watched her expertly assemble the weapon. She looked up at them. 
                          
"Sorry," she said.
                          
Link stared at her with shocked eyes, Donovan's only show of surprise a slight rise in his eyebrows. Carter shifted back on the couch and rubbed her hands on her pants, some of her frantic energy appeased. 
                          
"I don't know where to begin," she said. 
                          
"The reason why you're here would be a good place," Donovan said.
                          
She met both sets of eyes, drawing strength from the steadiness in their gazes. 
                          
"I came...because I needed a friend," she said. 
                          
She let out a tired sigh and rubbed her face. Both guys remained silent.
                          
"I guess I should just say it," she said. 
                          
She studied her hands for a moment, then looked up. 
                          
"I don't know how much of this you know," she said. She gestured to Donovan. "Or how much you have put together, but my mom left when I was fourteen." 
                          
"What happened?" Link blurted out. 
                          
"One night she decided that being a mother was no longer what she wanted to do. So she left. In a taxi," she said, her voice emotionless.