“Stuff,” he said as I rested my cheek against his back. “A lot of stuff…”
Like being such good friends?I wondered bitterly, as we were quiet, so quiet that I could hear Charlie’s watch ticking from over on his dresser. His room left you to face your own thoughts.
I started rubbing his back, something his mom used to do whenever he had a meltdown as a kid. He wanted to tell me, I could feel it.
After a few minutes, I heard him ask if I remembered our Pandora’s fight.
“Yeah, I remember,” I said, and hugged him tighter. I neededto push Nick aside for now. “And I’m so sorry. It was such a bitchy thing to say.”
“But you were right,” he whispered. “About all of it.”
Then his body curled into a ball.
“You’re perfect, Charlie,” I said after letting him cry for a while. “You’re absolutely perfect, and I love you so much. I love you more than anyone else in the entire world. No matter what, I will always love you, and I want you to be happy.”
“I don’t know what to do.” He wavered, fear in his voice. “I have no idea what to do.”
I kissed his shoulder.
Silence.
“He said he loves me,” Charlie whispered. “Before we hung up, he told me.”
I gasped. “And what did you say?”
“Nothing. Just ‘Happy Thanksgiving.’”
“Butdoyou love him?”
My question hung in the air for a moment, and then I heard: “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Promise.”
Charlie took a deep breath. “Yeah, I love him,” he said. “I’ve been a goner for him since the day we met.”
And I’m a goner for your brother, I thought, hugging and now crying with him.I am an absolute goner for your brother.
CHAPTER 20
CHARLIE
The flock went to Peace Love Pizza togetheron Saturday to celebrate the start of winter term, but as Nick would’ve said, I was interstellar the entire time. I didn’t notice the gallon of grease that dripped off my barbeque chicken slice, and I didn’t notice Val and her friends stabbing me with mental daggers from three tables away. All I noticed was that Luke wasn’t there. Not feeling great,he’d texted our group chat.Out for tonight.
I fiddled with one of my bracelets under the table, the twisted leather cord with a brass anchor catch. Luke had been so stoic as I’d unwrapped the box in October, but then smirked with satisfaction once I told him I loved it, as if to say,Yes, I’m a gift-giving genius.
We’d seen each other around campus this week, but hadn’t really spoken since Thanksgiving. There had been a blizzard in Grosse Pointe, so Luke had spent the holiday at my cousins’ house. “So where are you now?” he’d asked after almost two hours of talking that night. “Still walking?”
I smiled. “No, sitting on some neighbor’s porch.” The DePietros were at Sage’s, and I’d circled the neighborhood a hundred times already. “Where’re you?”
“The upstairs den.”
“Do they still have that red couch?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to Grosse Pointe, but I did remember my cousins’ upstairs TV room: wood-paneled walls with built-in bookshelves and the deepest couch known to man. You literallysankinto it.
“The one and only,” Luke said. “Your aunt keeps saying they’re going to get rid of it, though. The cushions are starting to tear.”
“Shame.”
“Yeah…”
