I nod consideringly. “You never liked the way I let her speak to me, even though you rarely saw it.”
Dillon’s face goes tight with agitation. “You made sure of that.” He rushes to add, “Not that I blame you for it. I always understood, and I understand even more now.”
I shoot him a bemused frown. “I don’t know what that means.”
The flush in his cheeks spreads, deepening until his ears are coated and the red is creeping down his neck as he looks anywhere but at me. “I’ve, uh…” He scrunches his face up. “I’ve been going to therapy.”
The last words come out so quietly, I strain to hear him. Even so, I blink, asking loudly, “Therapy? Liketherapytherapy?” He narrows his eyes at my nonplussed tone, looking uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“And that has something to do with you chewing my mother out?” I ask, eyebrows arched high.
“I didn’tchewher out,” he immediately protests. When I just glance at him silently, he looks away. “Okay, maybe I did. But she had it coming.”
“I’m not arguing. So, you’ve been going to therapy. Since when?”
Chapter 23
Dillon
She’s here.
I don’t look away, positive that there’s a gas leak somewhere that’s making me delusional. If I look away, she’ll vanish. It’s what’s happened every other time I’ve imagined her back in this apartment. Back withme.
When she starts talking about her mother, I know that it isn’t a delusion, and I might have fucked up again. Charlie made sure that she minimized any kind of contact between me and her mother, even if she has been honest about how she feels about her family.
She’s told me how much it hurts that her mother can never just accept her the way she is, which is why it was such an unforgivable asshole move to throw that all back in her face.
No matter what, I shouldn’t have run my mouth with the nasty old cow, but staying silent was one of the things that had cost me Charlie in the first place. Running into Agatha felt like a last-ditch opportunity to prove to myself that I wasn’t the same guy who let her daughter down. To show myself that I have changed. That I won’t just hold my tongue to keep the peace, even if it is with the mother of the woman I still love.
Charlie wasn’t supposed to know about it. Maybe I shouldn’t have told Barrett, but he’s kept firm on his and Charlie’s pact to not talk about me, so I figured it wassafe enough.
I don’t blame him. It might have landed him in uncomfortable situations, but he always put her first.
I finish my coffee and turn away, rinsing it in the sink and pretending I’m not just trying to avoid her eyes. “I started going about a week or so after that housewarming.”
“Why?”
One word—an easy question without a simple answer. I’ve played this conversation out in my head so many times, but I never actually dreamed I’d be here, having it…Especially unprepared after Charlie has shown up without any warning.
I can’t fuck this up.
I moisten my lips nervously, telling her honestly, “I had a few home truths laid on me. That was what pushed me to admit how wrong I was, how wrong what Ididwas, and I wanted to make it right.” I keep my eyes on the sink, flicking off the tap and leaning against the counter. “I knew there was a chance you wouldn’t forgive me, and I don’t expect you to. I never want to fall into that trap again.” I bow my head with a soft exhale, my shoulders knotted with apprehension. It takes several breaths before I feel steady enough to tell her everything—about my childhood, my parents, the way they still are.
Most of it, she already knows, but not with the narrative of how it has affected me, not through the new perspective the therapist gave me of why I react with silence and anger, with no apparent middle ground.
By the time I’m finished, my voice is gritty as I admit, “Looking back at all, it’s easy to see why I fell into a familiar pattern. Not that it excuses what I did, because nothing excuses it. It’s just…” I straighten, looking over and finding her watching me with watery eyes. “It makes sense, you know?”
She doesn’t say a word for a long moment before murmuring, “Guess both our families have a lot to answer for.” She looks away, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Why is everything the same?”
I appreciate the change in subject, even as a soft burst of air escapes me—almost a laugh, but not quite. “Nothing about this place is the same.”
“You know what I mean,” she says, looking toward the door, like she can see through to the rest of the apartment. “It looks the same as it did the day I left. Nothing has changed.”
I lift my hands helplessly. “Except everything changed, and I wanted to hold onto what was left for as long as I could.” I swallow roughly, desperately searching for the right words. I don’t want her to feel sorry for me, but I need to give her honesty, especially when the last time she was standing in this apartment, I gave her hateful lies and silence.
“Charlie, my feelings for you didn’t go away when you left. They never will. I can’t just stop myself from being in love with you, even if the best thing for both of us is to be apart. I couldn’t stand the idea of erasing you from my life so completely that I didn’t have at least one place that still felt like home.”
