Fern let out a gasp, the shock obvious on her face. “Charlie… I… I’m sorry that happened to you. What happened to her?”
I rubbed my hand over my face before I spoke again. “My dad married her. Two months ago.”
Silence swirled around us louder than the gale blowing outside. “That night, when you got drunk?”
“He called me. He was fucking her. He tried to tell me he called me by accident, but the sperm donor doesn’t do anything by accident. I got off my face that night, not because I’m a dick that doesn’t care, but because I’m messed up. I’m so messed up that my dad married the woman who came onto a 14-year-old boy and now wants us to play happy families while making me listen to things like that.”
“Fuck.” Fern ran her fingers along my jaw. “You could have explained. Neo would have gone easier on you.”
“It’s no excuse and not something I want to share with the world. Archer, Fox, and Fox’s mum are the only people who know… and now you.”
“Thank you. For telling me.” She offered me a small smile, but I didn’t feel pity or sadness from her; I felt supported and understood.
“It’s not meant to downplay your experience or what you’re going through. I just wanted you to know that you’re not the only one who feels like they were used and taken advantage of by people who should have known better.”
“You want some wine? Or something stronger?” she asked, making me grateful to change the subject but worried about what she thought about me.
“Wine sounds good. Thanks.”
She vanished off to the kitchen, bringing back an ice cold bottle of white and pouring us both a glass. I took a large mouthful before I spoke again, desperate to shift the energy in the room.
“And to answer your original question, women taste good. A man who cares about you, who lives to please you, would want to drown in your flavor. There is nothing better than having a woman come on your lips and then kissing them hard so they can taste themselves on your tongue.”
Fern
I was speechless. Lost for words because of what Charlie had been through, but also because I would have never guessed it. He looked like he had the perfect life. A life he seemed hell bent on messing up recently, but perfect nonetheless. I guessed that should have been the giveaway—why would you screw up your life if it was perfect?
“I think it’s probably why I sleep around so much; to prove I’m in control these days. I can sleep with whoever I choose, rather than being used by someone. It’s also why I can’t do long term because I don’t want to open up and be vulnerable. I’m officially a mess.”
For a while after his admission, there was silence as we both got lost in our thoughts, but while the words didn’t flow, the wine did and we were well on our way to finishing the bottle.
“Say something, Princess. Your silence is killing me.”
“Hhhhuummm. Sorry, I was miles away.”
“Where?”
“I was just thinking about, well, everything. It’s weird, isn’t it? How we think we know someone, but we get them so wrong.”
“That it is, princess.”
I glared at him. “And now you know I’m not a daddy’s girl, can we drop the princess?”
“Nope. Not unless I can think of a new nickname for you.”
“How about calling me my name?”
“And where would the fun be in that?”
“Dickhead.”
The day had morphed into dusk as the sun set even though it was barely 4 pm. Rain hammered against the window and the wind howled. As we sat in front of the fire, the electrics flickered a few times before going off.
“Bugger,” I whispered. “Do you want to go up to the lighthouse? I always feel safer up there than down here and your guitar is up there.”
“You want me to sing to you, Princess?”
“Well, if it’s too dark to read and I can’t watch TV, you singing seems like the perfect solution.”
