Birdie

39. Spit

He rarely texted her at work, so of course when he did just that, Carmen thought something was wrong.

Come out back.

Carmen had frowned down at her cell after sliding it out of the front pocket of her uniform.

"Hold on a moment, girl," She murmured to Harley as she tapped back a response.

Is everything okay?

Her lunch break was over in two minutes, and she'd been talking to her coworker at the front desk. Harley had asked about the necklace Carmen was wearing, one her grandma had gotten her when she turned eighteen when her phone had vibrated the first time.

Chance responded back with the original message.

"Uh... I-I'll be back, okay?"

She was walking off before Harley had responded, and trying to make herself look like she wasn't in a panic when she actually was. Her heart was pounding, her hands had gotten clammy within seconds as she thought the worst. But what really was the worst? A death in the family? It didn't matter if it would be hers or his, either would be horrible. And if that was the worst, then what was the second worst? He wouldn't break up with her at work would he? He definitely wasn't cheating on her, so that was even on Carmen's radar.

Had he hurt himself at work and needed her to take him to the hospital?

Oh shit.

Carmen had said it both in her mind and out loud, and didn't notice until the curse bounced off the brick walls. Then she was praying no one heard her while simultaneously thanking God that no one else was in the corridor with her.

That walk to the back exit that only employees used, and where most took their smoke breaks was one of the longest walks she'd ever taken. It was the equivalent to walking a green mile and the two minutes it too her to get to the door felt like she was stuck in a nightmare, walking down a hall that never ended to a door that she was never going to be able to reach.

When she burst through the building's back doors, for some reason, she was expecting her man to be sporting a black eye, a busted lip, something, but all he was sporting was a look that told her to get her ass over to where he was leaning against the truck with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, and stat.

"You're okay," her voice was full of relief as she breathed out those two words. Carmen had stopped just past the exit. Her shoulders relaxed, but her heart was still pounding.

"Of course I am," Chance responded with a frown, "Why in the hell wouldn't I be? Get your ass over here."

Body on autopilot, Carmen did indeed get her ass over to him. He was in his work clothes, wearing a grey short sleeved shirt with a thermal underneath, and his hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, the hair at the top of his head was mussed from his work hat, which she knew was sitting in his passenger seat- he took that hat off every time he got in the car and chucked it into the passenger seat.

"Where's your jacket?"

He ignored her question and took her hand in his when she got close enough. When the skin of his palms met hers, his face screwed up even as he tugged her closer.

"Why are your hands so sweaty?"

"I thought something had happened, I was freaking out," Carmen mumbled as he wiped her hands on his shirt, then kissed her knuckles before he dropped them, and took up her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

The kiss Chance gave Carmen was a sweet peck that left her yearning for more, and for something that wasn't so sweet. He had been being so gentle with her, and that was something that was... not exactly new to them, but more common in the last month or so. He was treating her like she was fragile, and though Carmen was a little emotionally unstable sometimes because of the drama with her family, she didn't want that all the time. Yet she didn't want to tell him that (and wouldn't) because he was being so sweet to her, and Carmen knew she'd feel like an ass and definitely seem like one too for bringing it up and she knew he'd agree.