“Hildy.”
“Hmm?”
“A story would still be worth something, wouldn’t it? A real exposé, not just a quick sighting before he disappears again.”
She looked up from her phone. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Jean gave a slow nod. “I bet he’ll go home. To South Dakota.”
“You think?” That was more like it: Hildy staring at her with unmistakable interest. No more of this “poor Jean” nonsense.
“His parents are having some kind of party. He felt guilty about missing it. Allegedly.” Who knew if any of that had been true?
She told herself it wasn’t a betrayal, even after Hildy started “hitting up her network,” which was apparently business speak for texting your sorority sisters.
Charlie had done her wrong. The lying was bad, and the cheating was worse, but walking away without a word? That hit like a harpoon to her heart.
Tell me you don’t give a shit about me without telling me you don’t give a shit about me.
Two could play that game.
The tables were about to be turned.
Watch your back, Charlie Pike.
PART IIExile
Chapter 12
Charlie was grateful for the darkness blanketing the world outside the airplane window. That was the best he could say about the current situation: it was late at night, which meant he hadn’t been forced to watch the island grow smaller and smaller before finally disappearing, along with his dreams of happiness.
In a few hours, ocean would give way to solid ground. They’d catch a connecting flight, cross a mountain range, and finally land in the vast flatness of the Plains. Or at least, that was how it looked from above, a patchwork of big grassy squares and reddish dirt that plenty of people lumped in with the rest of the Midwest as one unbroken stretch of emptiness, dotted with the occasional barn. It was easy to make those mistakes if you only glanced at the surface. People saw what they expected to be there, making assumptions like “it’s all farmland” (when the nearest fields of corn and soybeans were hundreds of miles away) or “you’ll become a beer executive” (when he dreamed of studying snakes instead of sales). Or how about “a beautiful girl could like you for yourself” (and not sell your whereabouts to the tabloids)?
The truth was a moving target.
He tried to picture home as a place he wanted to go. Visualizing a safe space was one of the calming exercises he’d been taught as a kid, often using the creek behind his house as a focal point. It felt sheltered there, shaded by canyon walls and cottonwoods, with a hush that reminded him of the inside of a library. Charlie loved the landscape he’d grown up in—and yet he hated the fact that he was going back. Defeated and humiliated, with his tailbetween his legs. Hard to believe this was the same night he’d planned to spend with Jean, laughing and eating pie and…
Closing his eyes, he took a four-count breath in through his nostrils, holding it for three seconds before exhaling. For now, he was in a state of suspended animation, neither here nor there. Maybe he could pretend it wasn’t real, being in this tin can in the sky—a can that felt like a coffin. Charlie’s scalp was sweating. He wanted to scratch it, but the hat was in the way, and he couldn’t lift his arms without elbowing Mugsy.
Don’t think all the dark thoughts at once. Pace yourself. That was another lesson he’d learned in therapy. Usually he had a hard time filtering, but today it was easy enough to pick one and stick to it.
Jean.
Had she gone to the cottage? What would she think when she realized he wasn’t there? He flashed back to the text claiming she was running late, with that uncharacteristic “sorry” at the end. Maybe Jean had never intended to show up, if she really did what Mugsy claimed.
I hope she misses me even a millionth of a percent as much as I miss her. It was a childish thought, followed by an even less rational one.I wonder what will happen to the pie?It would be a shame to throw it away untouched.
He shook his head. Maybe there really was something wrong with him. Because even though Charlie knew he should be angry, all he felt was loss, like an announcement had just come over the PA system that the sun wasn’t coming up tomorrow. For a few shining days, his world had seemed big and bright and exciting, as if Jean had opened the door to a magical dimension beyond the boring reality he’d always known and then held his hand as he took in the sights.
But that was wrong, wasn’t it? He needed to stop thinking ofJean as the best thing that had ever happened to him. Tomorrow, he decided. Or possibly the day after.
“I guess I’ll never see her again.” He was trying to sound brave, but the look on Mugsy’s face was a close cousin to her familiaryou’re giving me heartburnexpression. Charlie’s mother liked to say that Mugsy was the oldest young person in the world. “What?”
She shook her head.
“Go on, Mugs. I can take it.” At least, hewantedto be someone who could handle bad news. Or was it that he wanted other people to see him that way? Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.
“I know it’s too soon to tell you it’s for the best, so I’m holding it inside.”
