“Home,” she echoes in a whisper. Her green eyes are overly bright, and her lashes flutter shut, hiding them from me. “This stopped being home when it stopped feeling safe.”
My sharp inhale whistles through my teeth, that hit slicing through me. I don’t react, though. I let the pain sink into my flesh, bubbling through my veins until it’sallI can feel, and then…
Then Ilet it go.
“That’s fair,” I murmur softly, “and valid. I know you said you and Alec aren’t a thing anymore, but I hope he at least made you feel safe.” The words taste like the worst kind of poison on my tongue, but they’re also true. I want Charlie to know her worth and that she deserves the world.
“He did.” The words are almost inaudible, reluctant. It feels as if she’s forcing them out, aware of how much it hurts me and hating it. That’s always been the difference between us—even when Charlie is feeling her worst, she never deliberately tries to hurt me.
“Have you…?” She trails off, fidgeting with her coffee mug. It takes a few seconds, but the dots finally connect. I clear my throat.
“Have I dated anyone else?” I clarify, and she gives me a jerky nod.
“It’s just… I know it’s been six months, but you didn’t mention anything last week when I was talking about Alec. It would be fine if you were,” she quickly adds. “I was just wondering…” She trails off again, grimacing awkwardly.
“There’s no one else, Angel,” I say softly, and her eyes dart up to mine at the pet name. I give her a self-deprecating smile. “I focused on work and getting myself back into a good mental headspace. There wasn’t room for anything more than that. I also wasn’t ready for there to be anyone else. Not when my feelings were still firmly tied up in one person.”
“Dillon—”
I’m terrified she’s about to say something I don’t think I’m ready to hear, so I quickly cut in. “I’m not asking for anything right now, okay? I just…I don’t want to lie to you. About anything. Even if it’s just me holding my silence, because I’ve learned that’s just as bad.”
Charlie lets out the softest sigh, her eyesfilled with tears, making them more luminous than usual. She locks her eyes with mine, her chin trembling. “I’m learning that, too.”
I take a step toward her. “What do you mean?”
“Alec—” She stops, catching the wince I don’t quite manage to hide. Charlie sends me an apologetic look before carrying on. “He was just a friend, especially at first. There was this feeling of potential between us, that maybe something could grow.”
I feel like I’m swallowing boulders, and I barely refrain from slapping my hands over my ears like a child trying to hide. “I’m glad you had someone like that,” I mumble through numb lips. “You deserve the world, Angel.”
“I’m not finished,” she tells me firmly. “It ended between us because those feelings didn’t grow. I realized that I didn’twantthem to grow.”
My heartbeat whooshes noisily in my ears, my vision going hazy. I’m afraid to ask the question, and she sees it in my wide eyes, giving me a gentle look.
“You were still here, Dillon,” she says quietly, tapping a hand to her chest. “I tried to shut you out. I tried to turn off my feelings, believing there was truly no path forward for us. Even now, there’s a part of me that’s screaming I shouldn’t be here, but…” She’s the one who takes a step closer this time, only leaving a couple feet between us. “You’re not the same person you were six months ago.”
“You’re not either,” I whisper.
She takes another step—close enough that I could reach out and touch her. My fingers shake with the urge. I clench them into fists, taking everything on her terms.
“I walked out on my mother last night.”
I blink rapidly, surprise dampening everything else for a second. “You did?” I rasp out. “She must’ve seriously lost it to drive you to that point.”
Charlie holds her hand out, jiggling it from side to side.“Maybe. Or maybe it was me who finally just had enough.” There’s a pause, her eyes thoughtful, never shifting from mine. “Barrett said something to me just before we walked into the house.”
I don’t say a word, not wanting to interrupt—not wanting to derail wherever this conversation may be heading. I don’t care if it ends with her telling me she never wants to see me again, not when, right now,she’s here, close enough for me to smell orange blossoms and vanilla. I send up a prayer of thanks that she hasn’t changed her favorite scent in the time we’ve been apart, because I never want to forget it.
It’s been so long, and I drag it into my lungs like I’ve been buried alive and starved of oxygen.
“Barrett was asking me why I was back there after months of avoiding that house,” she says, seemingly unaware of where my mind has drifted. “He told me that I deserve to have people in my life who put me first, and he said, ‘I thought you’d learned that lesson with Dillon.’”
“He’s right,” I murmur when she goes quiet. “Despite everything else that happened, I was proud of you for walking away when you did, Charlie. It took me a while to get there, but the kind of quiet strength you have? Most people only dream of it.”
“There’s strength in learning, too, right?” she asks confidently. But underneath, there’s a tone of uncertainty, like she’s not completely sure she’s asking the right thing. “There’s strength in learning from your mistakes.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking about her, me, or both of us, so I just nod.
“I was scared that people would think I was weak for still wanting you,” she whispers it like a confession. “I’vebeen weak to my mother for my entire life, never standing up to her, never cutting her out. What would people think if I did the same thing with you?”
