Finding Carter | ✓

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter 29
Caroline

DANIEL

Sometimes, I wanted to knock a fucker out.

Which I thought was a completely normal reaction when you were pissed off.

And I was pissed off beyond fucking belief.

Carter had told me about Caroline a week ago. I knew her intentions were pure, since she literally does not have a bad bone in her body, but I still wanted to scream.

I hadn't wanted to learn about my parents. I would help Carter as much I could, but I didn't have it in me to care about the people responsible for birthing me. For twenty years of my life, I'd grown up in shitty houses with shitty people, thinking my parents decided to say a silent fuck you in my direction. What else could I fucking expect, since Carter and I were left on a goddamn log.

But after Carter learned that we were abducted, that made what they did okay. In a way, yeah, it wasn't their fault and I knew that. But when your fucking kid goes missing, you'd think you'd try to look for them.

I didn't blame Carter for wanting to get to know them. She always wanted a family and with the McMilan's she got it. But now it was about learning the truth. Growing up, she'd cry when someone got adopted when all she tried to be was perfect, and then that would go into sob, questioning how you couldn't love your child.

She cried while I put on a brave face, for the both of us. I adapted being alone, and with Carter back in my life, I could not give less of a fuck for the birth givers.

But still, for the last week, I found myself constantly looking at the address Carter gave me. Like a little bitch.

When I woke up Saturday morning in Carter's bed, I hadn't moved an inch, watching her sleep. Maybe she was right—I was a fucking stalker.

But something about her always had me stopping, needing to look a few seconds.

Her preaching how she would support me clung inside me as I touched her waist, needing to feel her soft skin under my palm. I was sure I had a problem, since the moment I reunited with her, I couldn't stop touching her.

Just touching her hand literally fucking brought me to the edge of my seat. I couldn't help but want to always pull her closer.

With her lying next to me, I felt myself losing control. I had to break a lot of my self-made rules for her.

Like number fucking one: don't ever, ever, get attached.

She had me caring. At least, for her. Which was why I hesitated at the thought of meeting the birth giver. As much as she claimed that she'd support my decision, I couldn't help but worry that she'd be upset with me, that I chose not to learn more about my past.

As much as I fucked hating it, I knew I had to go in that moment.

Unable to look away from her, my hands continued its caress on her waist, watching her with a soft smile. Her expression was completely in peace, and I couldn't help but want her to always feel that way. But with her fucking stalker still lurking around, I had no idea what to do to protect her.

And there was no fucking question that I would protect her. She was mine. If someone screwed with what was mine, I would rip them to shreds.

Although it was around ten in the morning, I wanted her to sleep in as much as she could.

It was a few seconds until my hands touched the ends of her light, golden blonde hair. It wasn't shocking that black was my go-to shade and colour, but when it came to her, my opinion on colour changed.