Chapter 3 Are You Together

With a heart heavy with conflicting emotions, Johanna climbed into the car.

The imprint of the leather seat against her thigh was a sensation too familiar, etching a memory onto her skin.

Carson, however, didn't rush to start the car. He lingered in the moment, leisurely drawing a cigarette and holding it with an ease that spoke of countless times before.

"Be a good girl and light it for me," he requested, his gaze locking onto hers.

Her throat felt parched as she swallowed, the silence between them heavy with things left unsaid.

Despite their separation and the independence it should have brought her, Johanna found herself reflexively reaching for the lighter.

Click!

The flame briefly illuminated his face, casting shadows that danced across his features. As Carson inhaled deeply from his cigarette, he exhaled a gentle stream of smoke directly towards Johanna.

Unflinchingly, she allowed the smoke to wash over her, the irritation causing her eyes to redden slightly.

His gaze lingered on her, traveling back in time to three years earlier when hardship had whittled her down to a mere shadow of herself, both skinny and drained by life's relentless pace.

He observed the changes in her; once again, she had lost weight, her health seemingly in retreat. Yet, her complexion remained clear, devoid of any make-up, stirring a complex mix of pity and desire within him.

Fighting back an impulse, Carson's attention shifted to her hand, noticing a barely healed wound on her slender finger. "How did you get hurt?"

Caught off guard, Johanna glanced at her wound and fell silent. She quickly pulled her hand back though, masking her surprise with a polite, "It's not a big deal. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Russell."

His response was a low chuckle.

"Mr. Russell?" He couldn't help but tease, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's new! Is there a special someone in your life for whom you're so willing to distance yourself from me?"

Johanna, mustering a polite smile, countered, "Well, you're about to be married. Such comments seem out of place now."

His next question was sharp. "Are you jealous?"

The accusation struck her. "No!" she protested, a little too quickly.

Her poorly masked feelings, however, only amused Carson, sparking in him a fleeting desire for a kiss.

Her pulse raced, and instinctively, she turned away just as his lips sought hers, evading him.

It was then that Carson's eyes fell on the man's coat draped over her.

His fleeting desire evaporated as he casually tossed the coat aside, his mood unreadable.

"Robert must hold you in high regard. Are you two...?" His voice trailed, insinuating more.

"No, he's just my boss," Johanna clarified, placing her hand on Carson's chest.

"That's good to know. Seeing him every day will surely make things easier for you, right?" Carson mused, a hint of cynicism in his tone. "He's a catch. You'll get whatever it is you're seeking from him."

Johanna found herself at a loss for words.

The sensation of being manipulated by him was unbearable for her.

With a blend of defiance and calculation, she retorted, "Well, that's contingent. My mother is quite fond of him, after all."

Carson's reaction was unreadably neutral as he settled back into his seat.

Suddenly, he ignited the engine, catching Johanna off guard.

The abrupt motion caused her to bump her head on the dashboard, igniting a spark of anger within her as she reflexively balled her fists, glaring at him in frustration.

But then, she let out a resigned sigh, deciding it wasn't worth the confrontation.

Soon, they arrived at the base of her apartment building.

Carson surveyed the aged structure with a furrowed brow. "Why haven't you taken up residence in the apartment I provided for you?"

Her reply came softly, laced with firmness. "It doesn't truly belong to me."

"But legally, it's yours," he insisted.

With a calm yet pointed tone, Johanna suggested, "Mr. Russell, perhaps you ought to revert the property's title back into your name."

The conversation reached a stalemate, with Carson no longer eager to press the issue.

Exiting the vehicle, he announced, "I'll accompany you upstairs."

Johanna, however, found the offer more unwelcome than reassuring.

Parting ways with him was a struggle; Johanna feared reigniting a flame she had desperately tried to extinguish.

The ascent to her seventh-floor apartment, devoid of an elevator and reliant on sound-activated lighting, left her breathless.

At her doorstep, she paused to look back, finding Carson still there, a silent guardian ensuring her safety from the street below.

The realization brought a surge of complex emotions, a mixture of gratitude and a painful reminder of their entangled past.

Upon entering, a foul odor assaulted her senses.

Panic set in as she discovered the source: a gas leak, with her mother lying unconscious on the floor.

"Mom!" she cried out, her voice echoing the terror that gripped her. As she cradled her mother's pallid face, desperation overtook her.

Her phone in hand, she hesitated at Carson's name, and then decisively called for emergency services.

But it wasn't the ambulance that arrived first; it was Carson.

Johanna, kneeling and overwhelmed by the situation, looked up to see him through a haze of shock and relief. In that critical moment, he lifted her mother from the floor with a calm urgency.