“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck …”
“Hey.” I say, ignoring the throbbing in my face. “Look at me.”
He shakes his head, shoulders hunched. “Don’t. I can’t …. D, I hit you. I saw you on the floor and for a second, I thought …” His voice breaks.
I gently wrap my fingers around his wrists and lower his hands from his face. “Look at me,” I repeat, softer this time.
Slowly, reluctantly, he does. His eyes are wet, lashes spiky, jaw clenched so hard I’m afraid he’ll break his teeth.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I say, even though technically he did. “I’m okay. I’m here. I’m safe. You didn’t know what you were doing. It was a reflex. Your brain’s still trying to protect you from something that already happened.”
“I could have …” He swallows, throat working. “What if I’d … what if it had been worse? What if …”
“You didn’t,” I reassure him, but I don’t know if he’s able to forgive himself. This is the first time I’ve witnessed one of Charlie’s episodes. And I’m not going to lie, it’s scary as hell.
“What triggered him do you think?” Everly asks.
I shrug because I have no idea.
Then Caroline gasps. “It was me, wasn’t it. Pushing you at dinner.”
“Mom. No,” Charlie tells her, but the pain on her face says otherwise. Robert reaches out and pulls her to him.
“Sweetheart, it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault,” he says, kissing her temple as she cries softly into her husband’s chest. “I’m just going to take her back to bed,” he says, pulling her away from the scene.
“You’re going to have a shiner tomorrow,” Faith says, handing me a bag of ice for my eye.
“Fuck, D,” Charlie curses again.
“Nothing a bit of makeup won’t fix,” Everly states.
“I’m fine. Really. It caught me off-guard, that’s all. And I think I did everything wrong.”
“You shouldn’t need to do anything. You should be able to go to bed and not get attacked by your boyfriend,” Charlie states. “I’ll sleep on the couch for the rest of the night.”
“No,” I tell him.
“I need to, D, please, for me.”
“Fine. But only for tonight,” I tell him. He nods. Everly helps him up off the floor and grabs his prosthetic that is still perched on his side of the bed.
“Let’s get this room set back to the way it was, and hopefully everything will be better in the morning,” Faith says.
Charlie looks like shit, and I catch the guilt on his handsome face every time he looks at me. I’m worried that this incident has done something to him, and what we had has been tarnished.
88
DERRICK
The morning comes way too fast. I wake to pale light seeping around the curtains and a dull, thudding ache in my cheek. The other side of the bed is empty, the covers cold. For a split second, panic skitters through me.
Charlie.
I drag myself out of bed, shuffle into sweatpants and a hoodie, and step out quietly. He’s lying on the couch, blanket half kicked off, one arm over his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all.
“Hey,” I say softly.
He jerks, arm dropping, eyes going straight to my face. His expression crumples when he sees the bruise.
