The truth I didn’t ask for.
It settles over me all at once, a heavy, suffocating pressure on my chest.
Charlie shifts behind me, his nose brushing the back of my shoulder before he tightens his hold, like even asleep he knows I’m slipping.
“You awake?” he murmurs, voice gravelly with sleep.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
His arm curls tighter around me, pulling me into his chest. “Are you okay?” I give a small shake of my head because I don’t know how I feel. He exhales gently against my neck and kisses the space just below my ear. “Come here.” He rolls me onto my back and props himself on his elbow, studying my face like he’strying to read every thought I’m hiding. “You didn’t sleep much after you drifted off,” he says softly.
“Too much in my head.”
“I figured.” His fingers brush down my jaw, light and tender. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know what to say.” I swallow. “It feels like my past is … suddenly real again. Like it clawed its way back into my life overnight.”
Charlie lays his hand over my heart. “Then we’ll keep it from sinking its claws into you.”
My breath catches.
He says it like a promise.
A vow.
“Do you want coffee?” he asks.
“Please.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead before sliding out of bed. His warmth leaves with him, and for a moment the room feels colder. I force myself to follow him into the kitchen a minute later. He’s already handing me a mug of coffee before I’ve fully walked in, pulling me between his legs as he sits on the stool. His hands settle on my hips, grounding me. “Better?”
“A little.”
He nods, brushing his thumb across my hipbone. “We should tell Jackson.”
My stomach twists. “You think?”
“I think he’ll know how to look into them safely. We don’t know anything yet.”
I stare at my coffee. “You think they could be … lying?”
“I think you deserve peace of mind,” he says carefully. “And Jackson is good at getting answers.”
He’s right. He’s so right.
“I don’t even know what I want,” I admit. “Part of me wants to meet them. Part of me wants to run.”
Charlie cups my jaw and makes me look at him. “Whatever you choose? I’m with you.”
My throat closes. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t say that.” His voice hardens, just enough. “You’re mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”
My chest aches. I lean forward and press my forehead against his.
“We’ll call Jackson later,” I whisper.
“Okay.”
