“Sure, come in.”
Unlocking the door, I pray I didn’t leave anything incriminating out. I don’t think I did, but I also wasn’t expecting visitors.
I search the room discreetly but don’t spot anything out of place.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask, unsure why he is even here.
“No, I’m good.” He rubs his hands together, looking anywhere but at me.
My stomach knots, nerves twisting me up inside. “Is everything okay, Charlie?”
He swallows hard, nodding. “There are some things I think you deserve to know, but I want to make sure you understand what knowing the truth means.”
We both stand in my tiny apartment, looking at one another. I feel like a deer in headlights, not knowing what to do.
“Do you want to sit down?” he asks.
“Sure. Sorry.” I move to sit on the sofa and he follows me.
“Don’t apologise. I should have called ahead.”
He seems uncomfortable, which makes me feel awkward. Charlie has always been the easiest one for me to talk to out of all the guys. “Does Mason know you are here?”
“No.” His brows lift as he thinks on that. “He will be pissed at me, no doubt, but I know he won’t tell you.” He looks at me and gives me a tight smile. “You seem to be doing good. You look well.”
If only he knew.
“I’ve always been good at blocking out the bad. But I was about to head out to the gym before, and I’m going to find a studio so I can build my business again. Get myself back on track.”
“That’s fantastic.” He smiles at me, but it’s forced and I can tell he is anxious.
“What is it, Charlie?” I ask, needing him to spit it out.
“It’s about Mason and the studio, and Cara,” he mutters, looking down at his feet.
Cara?
“You mean the reason he sold it?” I frown, waiting for him to explain. “Charlie, none of this makes sense to me.”
“If I tell you and you choose to leave him for good, that’s fine. But what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. You cannot tell anyone, not even Lucy and Meg. I’m very serious about this, Nina. You cannot tell anyone else.”
I nod, desperate for him to give me a reason to stay.
He readjusts himself on the sofa, sliding to the edge so he is barely braced against it.
He’s so uncomfortable, and it makes me nervous.
“My sister’s name was Phoebe. She was six years younger than me. She was sweet and loving, and everything good in the world.” His hand shakes as he rubs it over his mouth, and I reach over and take his other hand, sensing he needs the support. “When she was eighteen, she was raped.” He turns his head away, composing himself for a moment before looking back down at his hands. “I didn’t know. She didn’t tell anyone. Not until it was too late.”
“Charlie—”
“Mason didn’t want to tell you because he didn’t think you would be able to handle it, that you have too much from your past to deal with.”
He’s not wrong.
“I get why he chose not to tell you. It wasn’t his truth to tell, and I didn’t understand that until now. Mason did what he thought would protect the most people. Even if that meant losing you.”
“Protect people from what?”
