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Chapter Forty-Four
Point of View: Narrator

Nick was dragging more trash to the corner when Zoe pulled into his driveway the next morning. His front door was wide open again, but this time he had pulled tons of trash bags and large broken objects out onto the lawn. Zoe drove by into the driveway as Nick struggled to get a particularly large bag onto the top of the pile, sweat falling off his forehead and nose, his white concert t-shirt plastered to his back and chest.

"How's it going?" she called to him as she got out of the Prius, watching him walk toward her.

Nick grabbed the front of his t-shirt and shook it out so it wasn't sticking to him quite as badly and let out a long gust of air. "Hey," he said, having not really heard what she'd called before. He looked at his watch, "You're here early."

"I figured I'd check on your progress," Zoe answered.

"I was gonna take a shower before we left so you didn't have to smell my stink," he laughed, "I'm sure I can't smell pretty right now. I've been doing this all night."

Zoe looked at the crap all over the lawn and thought damn she did screw you good, because she couldn't believe this was results after having been working at it all night. "Well, you got time," she answered. "Go on, I can wait."

Nick smiled, "You can come in if you want, I cleaned out the living room and amazingly the TV and sofa are still in tact, you can sit down and watch a show or something, or out by the pool didn't get touched at all..."

"Sitting sounds good. Let me get my binder and I'll work on some grading."

Nick deposited Zoe in the living room with a glass of water and the TV remote before he took off upstairs to take his shower. Zoe had started to do her grading, but then she noticed a stack of picture frames sitting on an overstuffed La-Z-Boy chair and curiosity got the best of her.

She slid on the sofa until she could reach them and lifted them onto her lap. The top few were of Nick and the Boys in various places around the world. One from the Wall of China, one in some desert-y looking African country, one next to a Kangaroo... Then came a series of pictures of Nick hugging dogs. A couple different pugs, a yellow lab when he was much younger, a black doberman when he was a child. Under that, one of him, and what must've been his brother and sisters, they looked so much like him it was incredible. The next one, though, made Zoe stop and stare.

It was a picture that had obviously been taken by himself because his arm reached out to hold the camera up. His eyes were brilliantly blue and a grin covered his face. On his head was a Santa hat. Clutched in his arm was a dog, whose droopy eyes indicated very little interest in Nick's photography, and behind him and the dog was a lit, decorated Christmas tree and a pizza box.

Zoe flipped it over and opened the back of the frame to see if he'd written a note on the back of the picture, as she always did before she put photos in frames - dates, occasions, names of people in the shot. "Christmas" was all that was written on the back in Nick's messy chicken scratch.

She heard the shower turn off upstairs and put the backing of the frame together and slid the pile back onto the La-Z-Boy. Scooting back down the length of the couch, she sighed heavily, the image of Nick with a dog and a pizza on Christmas burned into her head.

She'd spent Christmas with Kayla. They'd had a chicken and exchanged a couple presents. She'd felt bad, because Kayla deserved a real family Christmas with a mother and a father and turkey and cranberry sauce and Christmas carols being played on a piano. Or at least better than a rotisserie style chicken from the market and a plastic tree with Rudolph on the DVD player.

But even precooked rotisserie chicken with her aunt was better than pizza and a dog.

When Nick came bounding down the stairs in his jeans, a fresh t-shirt and his red Converse sneakers, he stood before Zoe, a wide grin on his face, his hair still wet. "Tada," he said, flinging his arms out at his side, "I present you with - Nick Carter, the fresh edition."

Zoe laughed, "Hmm, at least I can't smell you anymore. I approve." She folded her binder together, hoping Nick hadn't noticed that she'd done absolutely nothing with it. He helped her up off the sofa and handed her the crutches.

"And I actually did it with time to spare, check it out." He pointed at his watch.

Zoe smiled as Nick ran ahead to open the front door for her. She sighed as she cross the door jamb, "Very impressive, Mr. Carter." As they walked down the walkway, she battled in her mind - should she? or shouldn't she? She glanced sideways at him, at his tall neck and skinny body. He opened the passenger side door of the Prius for her and ran around the car, checking the exterior for damage, and then went to get into the driver's side.

Zoe took a deep breath.

"I didn't see anything new," Nick reported, pulling on his seat belt. "Hey, thanks for pushing the seat back lately, by the way. I didn't like humping the steering wheel every time I got in," he smiled.

"Nickolas Carter, what the hell have you been eating lately?" she demanded, ignoring his words.

Nick paused, "Uhh, I dunno. I got that cereal. I really like cereal."

"I'm making meatloaf tonight," she said, "You like meatloaf?"

Nick nodded.

"Good. I'll pick you up after my last drive. Six-thirty okay with you?"

Nick blinked in surprise, "Sure?"

"Well okay then." Zoe didn't look at him even once during this entire exchange. She rolled her eyes, "Are we driving today or what?" she demanded, glancing his way.

His eyes were misty.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothin'," he answered, a smile spread on his face, and he turned the car on and started driving.