Charlie blinks, and I know I’ve insulted him. It’s not intentional—but I need space to untangle my feelings.
Just when I think he’s going to relent, he straightens his spine. “Too bad.”
I let Nan and Bennett fuss over me and fix a cup of chamomile tea while Charlie sits in the corner, watching us in uncharacteristic terse silence. By ten, I’m exhausted and announce that I need to go to bed. When I’m done brushing my teeth, I find Charlie in my bedroom, his jeans exchanged for pajama bottoms.
“What’s this?” I point at the wooden rocking chair he’s moved into the corner.
“That’s where I’m spending the night.”
I look at the size of the chair and the size of Charlie. The two are incompatible. “I don’t need you to watch over me.”
“Please just let me do this,” he says. “I promised Heather.”
“You spoke to my sister?”
“I wanted to apologize for putting you all at risk.”
I’m too tired to argue, so I pull back the sheets, flick off the bedside lamp, and lie down. It’s not the most comfortable mattress, but right now it feels like heaven. I hear the creak of the rocker as Charlie sits.
“I can’t sleep with you staring at me like that,” I say after a few minutes. He’s lit by the moon, hands between his knees, wide awake. “Just go home, Charlie.”
“Not happening.”
“Fine. Then get in bed. It’ll be less creepy than you sitting there.”
“I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep if I lie down.”
“You should fall asleep,” I tell him. “I won’t tell Heather you slacked on the job.”
The mattress dips with his weight. I’m several degrees warmer with Charlie lying there, face tilted to me. I stare at the ceiling, hands behind my head, wishing I could pretend that he’s not here, that what he said in the car didn’t hurt.
It’s so much darker here than in the city, but Charlie’s presence cuts through the black. It’s awkward, him and me, lying together in my bed.
“I reek, don’t I?” I didn’t have the energy to shower, and Charlie smells so good.
“You’re fine.”
I make a dubious noise, and Charlie leans over, giving my armpit a good sniff. “Better than fine.”
I push him away. “Gross.”
He turns to me, resting his chin on his hand and trailing a finger over the inside of my upper arm. “Nothing about you is gross.”
I shiver, and despite the headache, despite good sense, my body sparks to life.
Charlie’s finger drags back and forth across the sensitive skin, down toward my armpit and back up to my elbow. His mouth follows a minute later, leaving kisses behind. While his lips caress my arm, then my ear, his fingers journey south, along my side, over my stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of my pajama shorts.
“I don’t think we should do that,” I say.
His fingers still. “I want to make you feel good. After today, I owe you that at the very least.”
I shake my head. “It’s too dangerous. Nan, Bennett…” But it’s also me. I need to make sure I’ve got any squishy feelings in check.
Charlie pulls his hand away. “I don’t have anything else to give you, any other way to say I’m sorry.”
I frown. “Sex isn’t the only thing you have to offer.”
He turns back to face the ceiling. “I know a lot of women who would disagree with you.”
