“Sorry…” I mumble as I close my eyes. “I’ll leave as soon as I can stand—”
“Shut up,” she smacks the back of my head lightly. “You’re staying here. Pretty sure Mom won that battle.”
The door to the room creeps open, and a middle-aged woman with short red hair tiptoes quietly into the room. She closes the door behind her before crossing her beige cardigan over her chest. “You’re awake.”
I don’t know who this woman is, but her resemblance to my best friend is uncanny. She’s definitely Charlie’s mom.
She steps closer to me before crouching down. Her green eyes soften when they trail the cut under my chin. “How are you feeling, kid?”
“I’m okay…” I mumble.
Her head tilts. “Okay. Do you mind telling me what happened?”
I close my eyes before shaking my head. I don’t want to talk about any of it. Not while I feel so small.
“Okay,” she says softly. “Are you hungry? I made lasagna for dinner.”
Even as my stomach gives a painful grumble, I still shake my head. I can’t think of food right now. I just want to sleep.
She nods before standing. “Get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight, girls.”
“Night, Mom,” Charlie calls back as her mother leaves.
We sit in silence for a little while, only soaking in each other’s presence, before I can finally find the strength to drag myself off of Charlie’s lap. She turns off the lights before quietly sliding into bed beside me. She covers both of us with the thick duvet, and I feel my body melt into the comfortable mattress.
“Good night,” Charlie mumbles sleepily. She’s on herstomach, facing me with her hand between us.
I don’t return her words as I carefully intertwine our fingers. The touch feels strange. I’m not used to voluntarily holding hands with anyone, but as she gives me a soft smile, it begins to feel normal—soothing.
I drift off into a dead sleep where no night terrors touch me for the first time in ten years.
Going from a silent existence to the controlled chaos of Charlie’s home life is a shock to my system. I feel awkward as I sit at the nice dining room table and everyone flutters around me. I stare down at the plate in front of me, piled high with pancakes, as Mr. Marcus, Charlie’s dad, slides into the chair next to me.
His style is something I would peg a music producer to wear with his ripped, dark jeans and the red flannel buttoned up to his neck. His beard is clean, and his deep brown eyes are warm enough as he smiles at me.
“Mornin’, Rose,” He greets.
I don’t respond as I stare down at the steam rolling off my breakfast.
“I told you to pick up your clothes, Charlie.” Mrs. Lennon barks from the stove as she flips pancakes.
My best friend gives me a withering look as she takes the seat to my left. “I will this afternoon.”
“Before school,” her mom commands, pointing a spatula at her from across the room.
“Listen to the boss,” Mr. Marcus smirks as he takes a sip of his coffee.
His wife’s eyes narrow on him. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the beard trimmings in the sink, love.”
Mr. Marcus winces exaggeratedly before gazing at Charlie and me. “Busted.”
They ease into a relaxed conversation about everyone’s plans for the day. Mr. Marcus mentions fine-tuning acomposition one of his musicians in California has been working on, while Mrs. Lennon shares details about the high-profile case she’s currently handling at her law firm. Charlie talks about the final project that could make or break our music grade, but it’s all lost on me.
Their talking melts together into nothing as I focus on the pancakes. I don’t even feel like I’m present as the last twenty-four hours crash over me like tidal waves during a storm.
“Rose?”
I blink, dragging my eyes up to Mrs. Lennon as she stares at me with concern. Her fork is halfway to her mouth, but she isn’t concerned with eating. “Are you okay, hun?”
