Pierce kissed her back softly.
When they separated, he brushed his thumb along her cheek. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you fed.”
Charley nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Okay.”
He opened the door, and they stepped out into the hallway together, heading toward the kitchen.
Charley followed Pierce down the hallway toward the kitchen, her fingers still tingling from the way he’d held her hand, kissed her like she was something precious instead of something fragile. The closer they got to the voices, the more her nerves returned.
The second she stepped into the kitchen, and her eyes landed on her aunt and uncle, Charley felt her tears return. For a quick moment, she didn’t move at all. Like her brain couldn’t acceptwhat it was seeing. Then her mouth parted slightly, and her voice came out in a small voice.
“Aunt Bea…”
Her aunt didn’t hesitate. She crossed the kitchen in three quick steps and wrapped Charley up in a tight hug. Bea’s hands cupped the back of her head, holding her there as if she could shield her from everything by sheer will alone.
“Oh, baby,” Bea whispered, voice already cracking. “Oh, Charley, we came as fast as we could.”
Charley tried to speak. She really did.
But her throat tightened, her eyes burned, and the tears came anyway—hot and relentless. At least it wasn’t the messy, panicked sobbing from earlier.
“I’m okay,” she managed, the words muffled against Bea’s shoulder. It was a lie, and they both knew it.
Bea pulled back just enough to look at her face, her eyes glossy. “You don’t have to be okay,” she said firmly, wiping Charley’s cheeks with both hands like she couldn’t stand the sight of tears there. “Not after what you’ve been through.”
Charley’s lips trembled. “I don’t want you to worry.”
Bea gave her a look so purely Bea it almost made Charley laugh through her tears. “Sweetheart, that ship sailed the day you were born.”
Charley let out a shaky, breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t tangled up in emotion. “Fair.”
Behind Bea, Glen stood still for a moment, his expression locked down, but his eyes were sharp and pained as they took Charley in, especially when he saw the bandage on her arm.
He didn’t rush in the way Bea did. But he moved forward slowly, deliberately, and when Bea finally loosened her hold, he stepped into Charley’s space with the quiet gravity of a man who had been trained to keep his emotions under control even when they were cutting him open.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said, voice rough.
Charley’s throat tightened again. “Hey.”
He reached up and cupped her cheek as if making sure she was really standing there. Then he pulled her gently into a big hug. The kind of hug that saidI’m here. I’ve got you.It reminded her of the type of hug Pierce would give her sometimes.
Charley closed her eyes and let herself lean into it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his shoulder, the apology automatic, born from years of trying not to be a burden.
Glen made a quiet sound—half sigh, half growl. “Don’t.”
Charley blinked. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t apologize for surviving.” He pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes shining in a way he probably hated. “You scared the hell out of us.”
“I know,” she admitted softly.
“And you’re not doing this alone,” he said, the words clipped, like an order. “You hear me?”
Charley grinned. “I hear you.”
Jessica’s voice cut in smoothly from the stove. “Food is ready,” she announced.
