The Charlie Method (Campus Diaries #3)

Chapter Forty-Six Will

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

WILL

Fathers and sons

O N W EDNESDAY AFTERNOON , I STAND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE KITCHEN , staring at my phone, debating whether to make this call. I can practically hear my father’s voice in my head, barking orders, dismissing my thoughts and feelings like they’re nothing. But this job offer Tessa brought me is too big to ignore. I’ve spent the past four days researching every last detail about Harper Wozniak, the would-be congresswoman.

And Tessa was right.

I love her politics.

Finally, with a deep breath, I tap my dad’s contact name. The phone rings once, twice, and then his voice comes on the line, clipped and businesslike as always. A part of me is surprised he didn’t send me to voicemail the way he usually does.

“William,” he says. No hello, no small talk. Just straight to the point. “What is it?”

I mimic his approach, not bothering with pleasantries either.

“I got a job offer. From Pamela Kerry, the campaign manager for Harper Wozniak. She wants me to join the campaign.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

I can practically feel the temperature drop.

When my father finally speaks, his voice is like ice. “Wozniak is a piece of shit, William. You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious. I’m considering accepting.”

“Absolutely not.” He laughs in amazement. “Absolutely fucking not . Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” Resentment climbs up my throat. “But you don’t have a say in this, Dad. This is my decision to make.”

“There is no decision. I said no.”

“And I’m tired of doing everything your way. Being your puppet. It’s time for me to make my own choices.”

“Your own choices?” he snaps. “Your choices reflect on this family, William. On me. Do you have any idea what this would do to my campaign? You would be viewed as a traitor. A son turning on his goddamn father.”

A surge of anger rises in my chest, hot and fierce. “This isn’t about you. This is about me. For once in my life, I want to do something that isn’t about furthering your career.”

My father scoffs, his disdain dripping through the phone. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going anywhere near Wozniak’s campaign. I forbid it.”

“Forbid it? You can’t control me anymore. I’m about to graduate from college. I’m not a kid. I’m an adult.”

“You’re acting like a child,” he spits back. “And if you go through with this, you can forget about any support from me or Kelsey or anyone else in this family. You’ll be on your own.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I refuse to back down.

“Yeah? Well, maybe that’s exactly what I need. To be on my own, away from you and all your goddamn expectations.”

After a long, tense silence, my father speaks, his voice cold and final. “Do what you want, William. But don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

With that, he disconnects the call, leaving me staring at the phone.

I want to curse, break something, but instead, I slam the phone on the kitchen counter and storm out the back door, needing some air.

To my surprise, I find Beckett’s dad standing out there, nursing a cup of coffee as he stares out at the small, frost-covered yard. He’s heading back to Indy tonight, and I have to admit I’m going to miss the man. He’s like a goofier, funnier, more dramatic version of Beckett. I’ve enjoyed having him around.

He glances up as I approach, taking in my stormy expression. “You okay, mate?”

I shake my head, unable to find the words to describe the mess of emotions churning inside me.

“Just had a fight with my dad,” I finally manage to say.

James nods. “Want to talk about it?”

I hesitate, and something in his eyes brings an ache to my chest. It’s the kind of look I’ve never seen from my own father. Warm, understanding. Like he actually cares about how I feel.

“I know it’s none of my business,” he says when I don’t answer, “but I’ve got a pretty good handle on this stuff. Fathers and sons…it’s a tricky relationship.”

I let out a bitter laugh, rubbing my face. “You have no idea.”

“But you’re a good kid, Will. I’ve seen how you treat Beck, how you’ve been there for him when he needed someone. You’ve got a good heart.”

I blink at the unexpected praise. “Thanks, but my dad doesn’t see it that way. He wants me to fall in line, do what I’m told.”

James sighs. “Yeah, some blokes think their way is the only way. They don’t realize that their kids need to find their own path, make their own mistakes.”

“I just want to be my own person, but every time I try, he shuts me down. He doesn’t care what I want.”

“I’m sorry. It’s tough when the people who’re supposed to care the most don’t give you the support you need. I went through that with my own dad. Beck’s gramps. Took him a long time to see me as a real, fully formed human and not an extension of himself.”

A lump forms in my throat, all the years of trying to live up to my father’s expectations suddenly overwhelming me. “That’s exactly it. I’m an extension. And I wish he could see me for who I am, not who he wants me to be.”

James touches my shoulder, and for a moment, I think I might actually break down and cry.

“You’re a good kid,” he repeats, firmer this time. “And don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel like you’re not enough.”

Before I know what’s happening, he pulls me in for a hug, a simple gesture of comfort and support that is wholly alien to me. I stand there, frozen for a moment, before finally allowing myself to relax into the embrace, a wave of emotion washing over me.

He releases me with a lighthearted clap on the back, and my throat tightens to the point of asphyxiation. A strange mix of gratitude and sadness is lodged in my windpipe, the ache of something I’ve never really had. A dad who cares more about me than about appearances.

“Thanks,” I mumble, clearing my throat as I try to regain my composure. “I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, mate. And remember, you’re not alone. You’ve got people who care about you, who have your back. With that said…” He pauses for a beat, his expression growing somber. “We need to talk about Charlotte.”

I frown. “What about her?”

“Beckett told me about your…arrangement. How you’re both with her. Or you’re all with each other. I still don’t really get how it works. But you know what I mean.”

I blink in surprise. I wasn’t expecting that. I eye him, trying to play it cool, but he’s waiting for me to say something, and I can’t exactly deny it.

So I just shrug.

“Honestly, I’m not here to judge. You’re all adults, and you can make your own choices. But I’m worried about Beckett.”

“Worried? Why?”

James scrubs a hand over his face like this conversation is weighing on him. “Beck’s been through a lot, more than he lets on, and I’m worried he’s chosen a relationship—this relationship—because he knows it won’t ever lead to anything long-term. It’s safer for him, you know? If it doesn’t last, he doesn’t have to get hurt again.”

I suck in a startled breath. I knew Beckett was guarded, but hearing it like this, spoken so bluntly by his dad, makes it feel more serious than I thought.

“I mean, yeah,” I say. “I know he’s been through stuff. He told me about his ex. How she cheated on him, and it really messed him up.”

James knits his brow. “Cheated? What ex are you talking about?”

“Shannon,” I say, now confused myself. “His high school girlfriend. He said she cheated on him, broke his heart, and that’s why he doesn’t let people get too close. It took him a long time to get over it.”

Something shifts in James’s expression. “Will…Shannon didn’t cheat on him.” He stops, like he’s trying to find the right words. “Shannon didn’t break his heart. She died.”