Page 133 of Promising You
“You have my number. Just call if you think of anything.” Carson walks past Garret out to the hall.
Garret shuts the door. “The more I’m around that guy, the more I hate him.”
“He didn’t do anything. He just came by to check on me. As a friend. That’s it.”
“Why won’t you just accept the fact that he wants you, Jade? Don’t you see how he looks at you? And the way he’s always trying to get rid of me?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in him, so you need to let this go and stop fighting with the guy.”
“I’m not fighting with him. I’m just letting him know that I’m not going anywhere and that he needs to back off.”
“He knows that. You’ve made that very clear. And so have I.”
“And yet he’s still trying to date you.”
“Okay, let’s just forget about Carson.”
If Garret knew all the stuff I know about Carson, he’d never let me speak to the guy again. Carson is obsessed with Garret’s family. He’s one of those conspiracy nuts who believes everything he reads on the Internet, at least when it comes to the Kensington family. He claims he has a file full of stuff he downloaded that proves Garret’s family is doing suspicious things. I don’t have any idea what those things are, but Carson is convinced I’m in danger just being around Garret and his family.
I refused to see Carson’s file and I told him that if he ever brought it up again, I’d stop talking to him. But he’s piqued my curiosity and now I kind of want to see that file. Even if the stuff in there isn’t true, I want to know what people are saying online about Garret’s family and their company. When I did my own Internet research, I couldn’t find anything other than boring company information, so I don’t know where Carson is finding this stuff.
“Jade? Why aren’t you answering me?” Garret is sitting in front of me, a worried look on his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
“I think that’s a symptom.” He races over to get the sheet of paper the doctor gave him for caretakers of people with head trauma.
“I’m fine. I just wasn’t listening.”
“Here. Slow response time.” He scans the list. “And difficulty concentrating. You have two symptoms. I’m calling Dr. Cunningham.” He gets his phone out but I grab it before he can call.
“Garret, really, I’m fine. I was thinking about something and I just didn’t hear you.” He reaches for the phone, but I hold it behind me and back up against the headboard. “I’ll prove it to you. Ask me one of your stupid questions.”
Ever since I got the concussion, Garret’s been asking me questions to see if I’m confused or have memory loss, two symptoms on his caretaker sheet that warrant a trip back to the doctor. His questions are over-the-top ridiculous and always make me laugh.
“My questions aren’t stupid.” He sounds annoyed but he’s smiling. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“Do you know what day it is?”
“That’s a boring question. And it’s already on that caregiver sheet. Come on. You can do better than that.”
“Okay. When is my birthday?”
I take a moment to think. “Shit, I don’t know. It’s in August but I don’t think you ever told me the exact date.”
“Strike one. Next question. What’s my favorite color?”
I try to remember but nothing comes to mind so I take a guess. “Blue?”
“Nope. Strike two.”
“Wait. Did you ever tell me your favorite color? Why don’t I know this?”
“Moving on. What sports did I play in high school?”
“Football and swimming. There, I at least got that right.”
