The panic ices over, firming into something that looks a lot like anger, my mouth opening before I can stop it. “Charlie, you’re overreacting. Jesus! Everyone was just having a laugh. I don’t get why you’re taking it so seriously. You know what? I think you running off says a lot more about you than anything else. Do you even get that I thought you were hurt or dead orworse? I didn’t know where you were for hours, and then you didn’t even bother to give me a phone call. No, instead I get one message saying,I’ll talk to you in the morning. You don’t think I deserve more than that? We’ve built a life together, and you can’t even give me a conversation?”
She does this one slow blink, her expression unchanging, and a caustic laugh escapes me. Something flickers across her eyes at the sound, but I’m too lost to give it much notice.
“I can see it already. You’re so ready to give up on us. So maybe Jack was right. Maybe you aren’t cut out to be the woman on my arm because I need someone who’s strong.Someone who can take a few words on the chin and give back as good as she gets.” I shake my head, everything wrong. My brain screams at me to shut up, but my mouth keeps moving. “You’re too soft, a girl who’s still learning what it means to be something to someone, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re nothing to everyone.”
There’s a rush of footsteps, and then a hand grips my shoulder, fingers digging in deep, spinning me around, and angling me just right for Barrett to land a hammer-like fist right in my face. The pain is an explosion of sensation, barreling through me even as blood spurts from my nose like a faucet.
“Motherfucker!” I bend at the waist, cupping my nose, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but there’s no stopping it.
“You deserve so much fucking worse, you piece of shit,” Barrett snarls, stepping forward threateningly. Charlie shoves her way in between us, pushing him back. “Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to her like that?”
I shift my hands, pinching the bridge of my nose, watching blood drip down to the floor in slow motion.
It’s going to stain the carpet.
I have no idea how to get blood out, and—a bite of panicked humor hits—I’m pretty sure Charlie’s not going to do it.A snort bubbles out of me, and more blood shoots out of my nose, even as I gasp in pain.
There’s a soft sound, a choked breath, and I look up just in time to catch Charlie’s devastated expression before Barrett pulls her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her, hiding from me as her shoulders shake. I can hear her, though, the sound muffled like she’s trying to smother her pain—and it’s not working.
I replay the last several minutes, everything comingback to me in slow fragments. I let her in the apartment, wanting to fix whatever the fuck had gone wrong, and now I’ve just made it all a thousand times worse.
“Angel—”
“Don’t you fucking talk to her,” Barrett growls roughly. “You’re done. Fuck off somewhere else, so I can help Charlie pack up in peace.”
“Angel,” I say again, stepping forward, but she doesn’t even twitch in my direction. “Please. I wasn’t—I didn’t?—”
Charlie turns her head to the side, keeping her cheek pressed to Barrett’s chest, her eyes shining and wet as they meet mine. She swallows, her chin quivering, and I stumble away, my heart hurting with what’s about to come. Desolation fills me, already knowing there’s no taking back what’s happened—last night or just now.
“We’re done, Dillon,” Charlie whispers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m moving out. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for, whatever image you think you need, because I promise you, it won’t be me.”
“No!” It’s a yell, an unyielding denial, even as I ignore the blood that continues to drip over my lips and chin. I step forward, but Barrett reaches out, swatting my hand away, as if I’m an annoying insect buzzing around his head. He’s bigger than me, and meaner. I won’t win any kind of tug-of-war with him, and I don’t want to do that to Charlie.
Not after everything I’ve already done.
Swallowing it all down, I take another step away, scrubbing blood-covered hands through my hair, wondering how the hell my world collapsed so quickly.
Yesterday, we were perfect. I was mapping our lives out together, planning a proposal. The ring is already bought and tucked into a ball of socks in my drawer. Now, Charlieisleaving, telling me we are done, and I can’t even fucking blame her.
“I’ll, um…” I say, trailing off when Charlie keeps looking at me like I’m a stranger she’s never seen before. “I’ll go. Give you some space.” She doesn’t hear a word, her expression unmoving. Barrett’s still raging, a muscle jumping in his jaw, even as he keeps his arms firmly around her. Their closeness infuriates me as much as it hurts.
“I’ll go,” I say again. “This isn’t over, Angel.” That’s what makes her react—a violent flinch that wrenches her body. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I hadn’t seen it. “Let me just— I’ll go clean myself up, and then I’ll go. But we’re not done, Charlie.” My voice cracks on her name. “Okay? I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make it right.”
She furrows her brows, giving a slow shake of her head. “You can’t unring a bell, Dillon. Those words? I’ll never be able to unhear them. And now, every time I look at you, I’m wondering what else you’ve laughed about behind my back. What else have you let your friends say about me?” Her lips twitch into a sad smile, looking like she’s just learned that magic isn’t real. “I’m looking at you, wondering what else is a lie.”
“Nothing,” I blurt, sharp and sincere. “Everything between us is honest andtrue. I love you, Charlie. I have since almost the first moment.”
She nods slowly, and a small vine of hope stretches outward, reaching…
Only to wither and die when she asks, “Okay, then answer me this…Do you have—or have you ever had—feelings for Marisa?”
Oh, fuck.
Chapter 7
Charlie
His silence is an answer all on its own.
