My cheating ex catches something from his sleazy side piece, and I risk the same fate just trying to move on from him.
Amelia would call me dramatic, roll her eyes, and tell me to stop borrowing trouble. Usually, I’d listen. Tonight, though, I just can’t breathe.
The glass doors of the shower open, and then Alek's body wraps around mine from behind.
"Sometimes strong people break, Charlie," he murmurs, giving me the words he's heard me say a million times in the last six months.
A sob rips through me, raw and unexpected. I can’t even name what I’m crying for.
That the condom broke? That I'm going to have to get tested to be safe? That I slept with someone who wasn't Keaton and actually enjoyed it? That I'm not one hundred percent sure I'm ready to move on yet? That I'm still so fucking stupidly in love with the guy that completely obliterated my heart?
Maybe it’s all of it, tangled together in one impossible knot.
"I'm sorry," I gasp, trying to get control of myself.
"Don't. Don't fucking do that, Charlie. You're human. You've been broken and are slowly picking up the pieces. Healing isn't linear, babe. Things are going to trigger you. This just happens to be one of them. Do you regret it?"
I sniffle and lean my head back against his chest. "No. I hate that our night turned into this."
He nips at my neck. "Stop. It's not like I haven't been with you every step of the way. I know the landmines I have to be careful of."
"Why can't I hate him, Alek? He fucking destroyed me, and I still can't find it in me to hate him, no matter how much I want to. All I can feel is pain and this stupid ass love my heart refuses to let go of."
Alek stands me up and grabs the shampoo, squirting a generous amount into his hand before working it into my hair.
His breath brushes against me as he sighs. "Because your heart also remembers the person he was before Rianna came into your lives. I'm not saying she's the cause, but she was the catalyst." He grabs the shower nozzle and gently rinses the shampoo from my hair. "You're not someone who can hate, Charlie. From everything I've learned about you, that's never been who you are. Amelia says your parents are the same way. It's hard to hate someone when you're an empathetic person, because that part of you leaves you vulnerable to their feelings. It's why you refuse to let your parents cut him completely out, even when they try. It's why you wouldn't let me or David makehis life hell on campus, and it's why you always get that short flash of guilt in your eyes when we fuck around. Have you gotten any more letters from him?"
Alek and Amelia both know about the letters Keaton would send me. I never really told them much about the contents because it just didn't feel right to divulge that, but I gave pieces I needed help to understand or wanted their input on.
I swear, a growl rumbles in my chest when I think of that last letter. That one... that one, I let them read. Why? Because after reading it, I wanted to grab the gallon of gasoline my father keeps in his shed to douse Keaton in before tossing a match and setting him on fire.
"The audacity of him and the damn stupid ass noble attempt at giving me "permission" to move on," I growl, following Alek out of the shower and stepping into the fluffy towel he holds open for me. "He cheats on me and then he just...just," I stomp my foot, flustered, and ignore the gentle amusement on Alek's face. "He just lets me go."
"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asks, wrapping the towel at his waist and leaning back against the sink to watch me pace. "You're working to move on and heal. So, why are you so worked up? What did you want from him, Charlie Henderson?"
"A fight," I scream, my voice cracking on the last syllable. My shoulders sag, and I glance at Alek with wet eyes. "I wanted to see him fight for me."
"Oh, my sweet Lollie-girl," he murmurs, pulling me into his arms. "Can I tell you what I think?"
I lean my head back and glare up at him. "Is it that you'll bring the matches if I bring the gasoline?"
His lips twitch. "Ah, no."
"Then it's that you think I should bring my rusty scissors, and you should bring the tarp."
Alek winces. "Rusty scissors? Let's hope he has his tetanus shot."
"Well, if it's not that you think you should bring your pitchfork and ride with me and Mel at dawn, then what the heck is it that you think?"
"You're fucking cute," he chuckles, kissing my nose.
But then he turns the moment serious again.
"I think that he is fighting for you in the only way he can right now. His letter wasn't really about giving you permission so much as giving himself."
"What do you mean? Give himself permission for what?" I ask as he pulls us into his bedroom.
I grab one of Keaton's old t-shirts and a pair of my boy shorts from my bag and get dressed.
