Chapter 87 Derrick
DERRICK
By the time we get back up to the penthouse, I’m full, a little tipsy, and weirdly floaty from all the emotion at dinner. Love declarations. Future talk. Baby talk. Marriage talk. It was … a lot.
In a good way.
Everly immediately throws her shoes off the second we’re inside.
“Hot tub,” she declares. “I need to boil myself like a lobster.”
“I am absolutely not hot-tubbing after a ten-course meal,” Faith says, unzipping her dress. “I will die. You’ll have to roll my corpse out of there.”
Caroline laughs, shrugging out of her coat. “Ten courses of art, but I’m still hungry. Robert’s right, we should order burgers.”
“I heard that,” Robert mumbles, already loosening his tie. “One burger and then I’m sleeping for fourteen hours.”
Charlie’s hand is warm on my lower back as we drift toward our room. “You want to hot tub?” he asks softly.
“Tempting,” I admit. “But I’m exhausted. It’s been a huge day.”
This makes him laugh. “You’re right. It feels like it’s been two days in one. Bed?”
“Yes, please.”
We say goodnight to his family, and as Charlie shuts the door behind us, he lets out a rather large exhale, his shoulders dropping as he slumps on the bed.
“Are you okay?” I ask, toeing off my shoes.
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Just … my family. They’re a lot.”
I walk up to him and undo his tie, sliding it free, my fingers brushing his throat. “They adore you,” I murmur. “They adore us. That’s kind of the dream, you know.”
He leans into my touch for a second, eyes closed. “I know. I just … when they start talking weddings and babies and money, it’s like my brain short-circuits.” His eyes open again, finding mine. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m not all-in.”
My chest squeezes. “Hey,” I say, hands cupping his face. “Anyone with eyes can see you’re all-in. You love me. I love you. The rest is just … details. Loud, meddling, well-meaning details.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple.” I brush my thumb along his cheekbone. “We’re us. They’re excited. Nothing has to happen before we’re ready.”
His gaze softens. “I really fucking love you, D.”
“I know,” I say, smiling. “I love you too. Now get out of that suit before I ruin it.”
We undress, fold our new expensive clothes carefully, and crawl into the ridiculously huge bed. We stare out the window that overlooks the lake, watching the snowflakes fall and the village lights flicker.
Charlie lies on his back, one arm under his head, the other thrown lazily around my shoulders as I curl into his side. “Best holiday ever?” he asks.
“High on the list,” I say. “Top three for sure.”
“What beats it?”
“Hard to say,” I tease. “I’ll need more data. We should probably take at least ten more extravagant trips, and then I’ll report back.”
He chuckles, that low rumble I feel in his chest. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He presses a kiss into my hair, and for a long time we just lie there, listening to the faint crackle of the fireplace in the other room and the distant hum of the hotel. Eventually, his breathing slows, deepening, his body heavy and warm against mine.
I let my eyes drift shut.
For a while, everything is quiet.
Soft.
Safe.
Something wakes me.
I don’t know what at first. A sound. A shift. The sensation of the mattress jerking under me. I blink in the dark, disoriented. The room is mostly shadow, a faint glow leaking in from the crack under the door, the curtains drawn.
Charlie’s not lying beside me anymore.
He’s sitting up.
No, half off the bed, muscles coiled tight, breath coming fast.
“Charlie?” I rasp, still half-asleep. “Babe?”
He doesn’t answer.
His eyes are open but … not. They’re unfocused, wild, like he’s looking at something past me. Through me.
“Get down!” he snarls suddenly, voice hoarse, thick with panic. “Move, move, move …”
My heart slams into my throat. “Charlie, hey,” I say, pushing up on one elbow. “It’s me, it’s Derrick.” I reach toward him, fingers brushing his arm.
He explodes.
It happens faster than I can process.
His body jerks, fist flashing out on instinct.
There’s no hesitation, no control, just pure, trained reaction.
His knuckles collide with my cheekbone with a sickening thud.
White pain bursts behind my eye. My head snaps sideways, and I tumble off the bed, catching myself badly on my shoulder as I hit the floor. For a second, the world tilts.
“Fuck,” I yell, hand flying to my face.
Charlie falls from the bed and hits the floor hard. He doesn’t usually sleep with his prosthetic. His chest heaves, fists clenched, eyes scanning for some invisible enemy. “Where is he?” he growls. “Where the fuck is he? Jackson, get down …”
Jackson.
My stomach drops.
Oh God.
He’s not here.
He’s there.
“Charlie,” I wheeze, staying low on instinct. “Baby, you’re safe. You’re not there, you’re with me. It’s Derrick. You’re in Switzerland, remember? St. Moritz. With your family.”
He spins toward the sound of my voice, and for a split second, I’m terrified he’s going to hit me again. His expression is wild, like he doesn’t even see me, just shapes and threats.
I force my voice to stay steady. Soft. Grounded. “Hey,” I say again, hand up, palm out. “It’s me, D. You’re okay, you’re safe.”
He sways, blinking hard, like something’s fighting its way back into focus. “D …?”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” I breathe. “It’s me. You’re not there or wherever the fuck your brain is right now. You’re in bed. In St. Moritz. With me.”
His breathing is still ragged, loud in the quiet room.
My cheek throbs in time with my heartbeat.
There’s a pounding on the door.
“Charlie?” Everly’s voice, panicked. “Derrick? Are you guys okay?”
Before either of us can answer, the door flies open. Everly barrels in, hair mussed, wearing an oversized hoodie. Faith is right behind her in a T-shirt and leggings. Robert and Caroline appear seconds later, Robert already moving like he’s done this before.
One look at the scene, me on the floor, hand pressed to my face, Charlie wild-eyed and shaking, and Caroline’s hand flies to her mouth.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
Everly doesn’t waste time. “Charlie,” she says sharply, but not unkindly, walking slowly toward him like she’s approaching a spooked horse, before crouching down to his eye level. “Hey. Look at me. It’s Ev. You’re safe.”
He flinches from her touch. “Where is he?” he rasps. “I lost him. I lost …”
“You didn’t lose anyone,” Robert says in a calm, even voice that makes the hair on my arms rise. “You’re not there. You’re here. With us.” He moves to stand between Charlie and the door, not blocking him, just … anchoring.
Everly reaches out, fingers brushing Charlie’s forearm gently. “Hey, big brother,” she murmurs. “Can you tell me where you are?”
Charlie’s jaw flexes. “I … I don’t …”
“Check in with me,” Everly says, coaxing. “Come on. What can you see?”
Charlie’s gaze flicks around, breath still loud. “Windows,” he manages. “Snow. The lake.”
“Good,” she says, nodding. “What can you hear?”
He swallows hard. “You. Dad. Mom. D …”
His eyes finally lock on mine.
And just like that, he’s back.
The wildness drains out of his expression, replaced by dawning horror.
“Derrick.” His voice cracks. “Oh my god.”
He crawls toward me, then stops short, like he’s afraid to get too close. “Did I …? Did I hit you? Fuck. Fuck.”
“I’m okay,” I say quickly, even though my cheek feels like it’s been hit with a brick. “I’m okay, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” he chokes out. “I hit you. I …” He lifts his hands, staring at them like they’re covered in blood. “I promised … I would never …”
“You didn’t do it on purpose,” I say firmly. I push myself up to sit against the end of the bed, ignoring the way my shoulder protests. “It was a nightmare, Charlie. That’s all. You weren’t awake.”
He looks like he’s going to be sick.
Caroline is already moving, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it, and bringing it over with shaking hands.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, eyes shiny. “I’m so sorry, Derrick.”
“It’s okay,” I repeat, gently taking the washcloth from her. “Really. I scared him by grabbing him. That’s on me.”
“It is absolutely not on you,” Everly snaps, but not at me, at the situation. She turns back to Charlie, her face softening. “Are you with us now?”
He nods, vaguely, but his eyes are glued to my cheek.
“Let me see,” Caroline says softly, reaching for my hand. “May I?”
“Sure,” I say, letting her tilt my face toward the light.
She winces. “It’s going to bruise,” she says quietly. “But I don’t think anything’s broken.”
Charlie makes a pained sound in his throat and turns away, palms pressed over his eyes.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck …”
“Hey.” I say, ignoring the throbbing in my face. “Look at me.”
He shakes his head, shoulders hunched. “Don’t. I can’t …. D, I hit you. I saw you on the floor and for a second, I thought …” His voice breaks.
I gently wrap my fingers around his wrists and lower his hands from his face. “Look at me,” I repeat, softer this time.
Slowly, reluctantly, he does. His eyes are wet, lashes spiky, jaw clenched so hard I’m afraid he’ll break his teeth.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I say, even though technically he did. “I’m okay. I’m here. I’m safe. You didn’t know what you were doing. It was a reflex. Your brain’s still trying to protect you from something that already happened.”
“I could have …” He swallows, throat working. “What if I’d … what if it had been worse? What if …”
“You didn’t,” I reassure him, but I don’t know if he’s able to forgive himself. This is the first time I’ve witnessed one of Charlie’s episodes. And I’m not going to lie, it’s scary as hell.
“What triggered him do you think?” Everly asks.
I shrug because I have no idea.
Then Caroline gasps. “It was me, wasn’t it. Pushing you at dinner.”
“Mom. No,” Charlie tells her, but the pain on her face says otherwise. Robert reaches out and pulls her to him.
“Sweetheart, it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault,” he says, kissing her temple as she cries softly into her husband’s chest. “I’m just going to take her back to bed,” he says, pulling her away from the scene.
“You’re going to have a shiner tomorrow,” Faith says, handing me a bag of ice for my eye.
“Fuck, D,” Charlie curses again.
“Nothing a bit of makeup won’t fix,” Everly states.
“I’m fine. Really. It caught me off-guard, that’s all. And I think I did everything wrong.”
“You shouldn’t need to do anything. You should be able to go to bed and not get attacked by your boyfriend,” Charlie states. “I’ll sleep on the couch for the rest of the night.”
“No,” I tell him.
“I need to, D, please, for me.”
“Fine. But only for tonight,” I tell him. He nods. Everly helps him up off the floor and grabs his prosthetic that is still perched on his side of the bed.
“Let’s get this room set back to the way it was, and hopefully everything will be better in the morning,” Faith says.
Charlie looks like shit, and I catch the guilt on his handsome face every time he looks at me. I’m worried that this incident has done something to him, and what we had has been tarnished.