Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHARLOTTE
William’s surprisingly adept at navigating the folders and systems Dad used to run the club.
After those first tutoring sessions together, I suspected he had some kind of vision issue, but how could that be when he was able to throw a football with such incredible accuracy?
It’s clear pursuing a STEM degree continued to build the skills he acquired at Finn River High.
After I show him how to use the software, while he meets with Leslie, his bookkeeper, I reach out to the Tickled Punk’s manager about filling The Limelight’s next open slot.
My phone rings from my back pocket. I’m expecting a call from the new farrier, but when I check the caller ID, a cold flush pulses over my skin.
“Hello?” I brace myself for a beat of staticky silence like last time, but instead there’s a low huff that makes my neck prickle.
“Charlie.” It’s a man’s voice. Cool. Efficient. Familiar, though I have only heard it a handful of times, and it’s been six years.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“Just checking in.”
“Bullshit. ”
That gruff exhale again. “Smart girl.”
I glance at the back hallway, but William’s still talking with Leslie. “Fuck off.”
“Now, now,” he scolds. “I can promise it’s in your best interest to hear me out.”
He must take my silence as acquiescence because he continues. “I need you to make a couple of records disappear.”
I pull back from the table like it’s scalding my fingers. “What?”
“Don’t you think I know exactly where you are right now?”
I’m being watched? Frustration and fear swirl together inside me so fast I have to close my eyes. This isn’t supposed to happen. I made my pact, signed it, and I’ve kept my end of the deal. “I just want to be left alone.”
“Which is why you’ll do exactly as I ask.”
William steps into the restaurant, his eyes softening with concern when he sees my face.
“I have to go,” I say in a rush, and hang up.
William cocks his head. “You okay?”
A searing ache slices my tooth, making me gasp and grip my jaw. I try to breathe but the cool air in my mouth only makes it worse. It stings so bad my eye socket is throbbing.
“Whoa,” William says, crouching in front of me, his hands cradling my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
I cover the molar with my tongue. It helps a little, but I’m breathing fast and my heart is pounding. “Ow,” I manage. “Wren…uncle…” I squeeze my eyes shut and gather my strength “…dentist…”
William’s face tenses with worry. ““Okay. I’ll drive you.”
I start to protest, but he gently strokes my forehead, his deep blue eyes shining with kindness. “That wasn’t a question, sweetheart. I’m taking care of you.”
I’m not exactly in a position to refuse, so I rock to my feet.
William tucks his laptop into his messenger bag then slings it over his shoulder. “Come on.”
I cling to his arm as we shuffle down the back hallway, tears welling behind my eyes. Tears from frustration and exhaustion as much as from the pain.
Because haven’t I suffered enough? I’ve held up my end of the bargain for eight long years. I’ve kept my silence, even when it meant distancing myself from the people I care about. Even when I knew it would keep me broken.
And now I’m expected to help him by doing him some sort of favor?
I need you to make a few records disappear. What records?
He knows where I am…which must mean…
The shock wave of understanding that hits me makes me falter, and I have to lean on Will to keep moving forward.
Records.
Didn’t Will say that’s what was missing from the office?
Through the haze of steady, hot pain in my mouth, there’s a thought spinning round and round. It’s the same one from earlier. The one I couldn’t quite put together. But it’s clear now.
There’s only one reason why Nic’s fixer wants this favor.
Nic’s somehow involved in this case the FBI is looking into.
He’s the link they’re looking for.
A sudden churning in my stomach claws up my throat. I stumble into the alley, the bright sunlight making my face burn.
No, no, no.
I push off Will just in time to heave onto the cobbles. But he catches me from falling to my knees, smoothing back my hair as I go limp, gasping. Sudden sobs shaking my frame.
“It’s okay,” William says in a soft voice like I didn’t just yak all over his shoes.
How can he be so kind when I’ve hurt him over and over? Lied to him. Cut him out of my life. I wasn’t there for him when he got hurt. I wasn’t there when he was forced to walk away from the game he loved so much.
I don’t deserve you rings in my ears .
I spit the last of the puke onto the ground, but I’m sobbing so hard it grazes my knee.
William gently spins me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. He rubs my back with slow, caring strokes. “What’s going on, baby? Talk to me.”
“I’m so tired of it hurting.” Gripping his T-shirt, I bury my face into his shoulder, inhaling the clean citrus of his laundry detergent like it can wash away the scent clinging to my skin.
But I’m tainted. Chained to this secret, I’ll forever be tainted.
When I don’t say more, he sighs, his chest expanding into mine, then presses a soft kiss to the side of my head. “We’re gonna make it stop, okay? Whatever it takes.”
As much as I long for this to be true, he can’t fulfill this promise.
Once he’s carried me to his truck and set me gently on the seat, he makes a call, his otherworldly blue eyes tense with worry.
Then he climbs behind the wheel and we’re cruising to the end of the alley.
“It’s right there on fourth and Spruce,” he says while turning onto Main. “Denny’s going to call for us.”
The hot pain steals my concentration. With my tongue pressed to my back molars, I try to deepen my breathing, but the panic inside me is like a hornet’s nest, buzzing faster and faster.
A few turns later, Will pulls into a small parking lot facing a one-story gray building shaded by clusters of short, scruffy trees.
Unwanted fear stings my chest. I don’t want to cry again but the tears come anyway. When William opens the door I can’t look at him. I don’t want to go inside. I can’t do it.
My body is vibrating and my muscles feel stiff. “I’m scared,” I chatter.
He cups my lower back and scoots me close so my knees slide past his waist and our bodies are flush.
The contact feels so good I want to crawl inside his chest and stay where it’s safe, where I’m protected.
But the comfort is temporary. Soon I’ll be alone again.
Whether it’s in five minutes or five days.
“You’re shaking,” he says, rubbing my back.
I curl into him, trying to force my breaths to slow. Get it together!
“It’s going to be okay,” he says.
I cling to his T-shirt like I can make his words come true.
“I can walk,” I say because no way is he carrying me into the waiting area.
He sets me gently on the ground and slides his hand into mine. The hornet’s nest inside me stays at a dull hum as we walk the short distance to the door. Inside, the sudden change in smells and sounds sends goose bumps up my neck.
“Charlie?” a woman calls from a doorway past the reception area.
“You can take the paperwork back,” the receptionist says to Will.
He thanks her, then cradles me against him. “One note at a time, okay?”
The familiar words wash over me, stirring up a fresh wave of emotions. “Okay,” I exhale.
Will takes my hand again, and together we follow the woman dressed in black scrubs, her hair in a perfect bun. The whirring and zing! of the instruments crowd my ears as we pass the stations where hygienists are working away, patients lying prone beneath them.
How are they so calm?
My breaths feel so loud in my throat. Can everyone hear them?
Though the pain has dialed back to a steady throb, I’m not fooled, and my body knows it.
At the end of the row is a spacious room with a giant window that looks out to the trees.
The assistant who led us back is talking to William about the paperwork while moving about the room.
On any other day, her cheerful voice and bubbly confidence would be reassuring, but right now it’s only adding to the anticipation building and building inside me.
One note at a time.
I help answer the questions on the form, but my voice sounds dull and foreign.
“Go ahead and hop up here,” the assistant says, tapping the big chair. “Dr. Wilson will be right in. ”
“She’s in a lot of pain,” William says.
“We’ll make her as comfortable as we can,” the assistant says before breezing out of the room with the clipboard in hand.
I take a full breath in and hold it, then let it out.
The room is sterile and bright, with a sink set into a counter and a panoramic print of the Bitterroots at sunset hanging above it.
“I wish they could give you something now,” he says, bringing our clasped hands to his lips.
“It’s okay,” I say but my teeth are chattering again.
I’m just lowering into the chair when a man in a white coat strides into the room. He’s tall and broad like Denny, with a thick head of dark hair and a warm smile.
“Hi there,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m Joe.”
His voice is too loud for this small space, but I offer my hand. His grip is gentle as he clasps his other hand on top of mine for an instant. “I understand you’ve got an achy tooth.” His brows rumple in concern. “Let’s have a look, okay?”
He glances at Will. “You’re welcome to stay, son. You mind stepping to the other side for now?”
Will rounds my feet and takes my left hand.
While Joe slips on gloves, I lock on William’s dark blue eyes. My shaky breaths swallow the rising thump of my heart beating into my throat. A shiver vibrates down my thighs.
Joe tilts the chair back. I grip Will’s hand.
Don’t let him hurt me.
Will caresses my knuckles with his thumb, like he’s tuned to my racing thoughts.
“Go ahead and open,” Joe says, leaning over my face. He’s pulled on a mask and some sort of lens contraption affixed to a set of clear glasses.
My breaths quicken, my gaze flicking from Joe’s to William’s.
This is all completely normal, yet the unease is overpowering.
“I’m only going to look, not touch,” Joe says .
I force my lips to part. The added discomfort of the cool air on my teeth makes me whimper.
Joe slides his gloved finger along my gumline. Tears leak from my eyes as I stare up at the ceiling tiles, past Joe’s forehead, and try to focus on the pattern of black speckles.
Joe barely peeks inside before he rolls back, the wheels on his stool growling over the linoleum. “I need to use a little bit of air to dry the surface.”
Forcing down a swallow, I open again, my jaw muscles quivering.
When the puff of cold air hits my tooth, I cry out. The room darkens as I try to get a breath, but they’re coming too fast. The pain is in my face, my eardrum.
William and Joe are both talking but I can’t make out their words.
I know what this is but it makes no sense. “Oh god,” I gasp, my breaths now out of control and a cold buzz tingling my skin.
Strong arms reach around me, rolling me from the chair. “It’s okay,” Will says in a steady voice, cradling me against him. “I’m here, baby. Take a nice deep breath for me, okay?”
Air whooshes in and out of my lungs but I try to slow it down. My fingers cramp around fistfuls of his T-shirt but I can’t let go.
“I’ve got you,” Will says. “Just breathe.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as tears spill down my cheeks.
“None of that, okay?” Will scolds. “Right now you’re just gonna breathe for me.”
I center all of my attention on the slow draw of oxygen filling my lungs, and the soft release as it leaves.
“Think of that day in the meadow,” Will says in my ear, his voice steady and kind. “The sun is warm on your face. It’s just you and me, blackbird, lying on the quilt, looking up at the blue sky.”
Memories of us tumble through my still jittery mind. I try to catch them, let them pull me into the light.
Will strokes my hair. “It’s an absolutely perfect summer day. The sound of the river carries across the grass, and the air smells like honey.”
My skin warms as I remember us. How easy it was to love him. Care for him. Promise him nothing would ever keep us apart. “I’m sorry.” Another sob breaks from deep inside me.
“No apologies, baby.” He strokes down my back. “Breathe. Nice and slow for me.”
I try to remember the sun’s heat on my skin as we lay on the quilt, talking about everything and nothing, our fingers intertwined, kissing, laughing.
“That’s it,” Will praises as I coax in a full breath.
By the time the cool buzzing under my skin has melted back and my breathing has evened out, exhaustion ebbs in my muscles, like I’ve climbed a mountain.
Will presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We can find someone else,” he says in a low tone.
I’m too tired to reply. And though I’m not shaking anymore, the pain in my mouth is making it hard to think.
Joe shuffles through the doorway, his eyes kind, mask dangling from one ear. He pulls the stool under him and sits, though he stays near my knees. “Have you had dental trauma in the past?”
I swallow and turn my focus to the panoramic shot of the Bitterroots. At the jagged ridge washed in copper from the setting sun. “No.”
William rubs my hand. In the reflection off the glass, I watch his brows knit together in worry.
Joe nods. “I’ve had plenty of patients with anxiety.
It’s not uncommon. Even if you’ve never had a bad experience with a dentist, any kind of past trauma can still make lying down in this chair while a stranger looms over you a hard sell.
Add in how much pain you’re in, and it’s no wonder your fight or flight got triggered. ”
Fight or flight . He’s talking about PTSD. I close my eyes and swallow .
“Not to worry, though,” Joe says with a kind smile. “We’ve got some options. Ready to hear them?”