Chapter 6 Dillon
Dillon
She doesn’t look like my Charlie.
That’s all I can think about as she stares at me with blank eyes, her mouth pinched into a tight line. I didn’t see it at first, too blinded by embarrassment and anger when I first opened the door, but she’s in pain.
It’s in the too-bright glitter of her green eyes, and the shadow of the bruises lying heavily under them.
It’s the way she holds herself, as if she’s been splintered into millions of pieces and someone tried to piece her back together with some duct tape and hope.
Charlie’s arms hang loosely at her sides, but her fists are clenched, almost like she’s not sure what emotion will keep her upright.
I didn’t see it, but I do now. And the worst part is, I know why.
I know what she’s going to say.
I know what she overheard.
Bliss is an asshole, and always has been.
Everyone who spends any kind of time with her knows it.
That’s also what makes her good at her job—her acerbic tongue stripping lashes off the opposing counsel, leaving them a whimpering mess in a corner.
No one wants Bliss to turn that side of her on them, including every single one of her friends.
Including me.
Bliss never liked Charlie. I never bothered to ask why, and she was never shy about telling anyone who would listen.
Sweet, sweet Charlie, who’s never done a thing to Bliss. And last night—
Fuck. I bow my head, trying to remember every single word that was passed around the table last night.
There’s a haziness over my memories—too many drinks and too much time passed—but I remember how Corey brayed like a donkey, and the spiteful smile that curled Amber’s mouth, the two of them always dancing to Bliss’s tune to keep on the right side of her cruelty.
Isn’t that what I did too?
“What did you hear?” I mean for it to come out strong, confident, but it’s a weak whisper, the broken sound of someone who can already hear the death knell ringing.
Charlie smiles, but it’s more a twisting of her lips than something pleasant, her face angled all wrong.
“I heard Bliss wonder how you could still be with me, especially when they all thought you were just ‘getting some strange’.” Her tone turns mocking, and I flinch, resisting the childish urge to cover my ears with my hands.
“That’s when Jack started talking about your image and how much I’ll hold you back. ”
“That’s not—”
Charlie lifts her eyebrows at me, and I button up, figuring semantics probably aren’t the important thing here.
“I heard—” Her voice cracks, and she looks away, her eyes shimmering. I lift a hand like I might touch her, and she flinches, stepping out of reach. My hand falls uselessly in the space between us.
“I heard them call me a plastic gem, a chipmunk, a blueberry.” Charlie swallows thickly, losing her battle against the tears.
One trickles down her cheek, quickly followed by another.
“I heard Marisa defend me, telling everyone to shut up. I heard them all laughing. And I think I even heard you.” Charlie doesn’t ask for confirmation, and there’s a spike of relief, because if she did, I don’t have an answer for her.
I don’t want to think I would’ve laughed, but what if I did?
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve just gone along with it, holding my tongue and playing the game—anything to keep the peace. There was never any point pushing back, not when they weren’t going to change who they were at their cores.
Did I laugh when they spoke so horribly about Charlie?
Have I really sunk that low?
“You know what I didn’t hear, Dillon?” I open my mouth, but she doesn’t want my input, already answering the question for me.
“I didn’t hear you defend me. Not even once.
Oh, sure, you might have said you didn’t want their opinions on your relationship, but that basically sounded like, ‘I know, but we don’t need to talk about it.
’ It sounded like, ‘I agree with you, but I love her anyway, so shut up.’”
“I don’t.” I take a step forward. Charlie matches the step backward, leveling me with a glare that freezes me in my tracks. “I don’t agree with them. I don’t know anything like that. You’re my life, Angel.”
“Your life,” she repeats, her voice high with disbelief. “The life where you’ll marry me and we’ll pop out a h-herd of fat chipmunk babies?”
There’s a loud curse from the kitchen, and my chin drops down, knowing Charlie must’ve held that detail back from her friend.
I’m not sure what I can say here, but I try anyway. “I’m sorry. None of that should’ve happened. Everyone was drinking and just being assholes.” I try to smile, but her stony expression doesn’t ease. “You know how those guys get…”
“No, I don’t,” Charlie says firmly. “I don’t know how ‘those guys’ get because I have never spoken that way about anyone, let alone someone I loved.”
Loved.
Past tense because she’s already packed me in a box and tucked me into the back of the closet, only to be pulled out when she’s feeling sad and sentimental.
My stomach swoops low, panic unfurling and tightening my chest. When Charlie knocked on the door, I was shocked she wasn’t using her key.
Now, I’m seeing it for the symbol she meant it to be.
She is ending us over this?
Throwing our entire life away because my friends acted like assholes?
The panic ices over, firming into something that looks a lot like anger, my mouth opening before I can stop it.
“Charlie, you’re overreacting. Jesus! Everyone was just having a laugh.
I don’t get why you’re taking it so seriously.
You know what? I think you running off says a lot more about you than anything else.
Do you even get that I thought you were hurt or dead or worse?
I didn’t know where you were for hours, and then you didn’t even bother to give me a phone call.
No, instead I get one message saying, I’ll talk to you in the morning.
You don’t think I deserve more than that?
We’ve built a life together, and you can’t even give me a conversation? ”
She does this one slow blink, her expression unchanging, and a caustic laugh escapes me. Something flickers across her eyes at the sound, but I’m too lost to give it much notice.
“I can see it already. You’re so ready to give up on us.
So maybe Jack was right. Maybe you aren’t cut out to be the woman on my arm because I need someone who’s strong.
Someone who can take a few words on the chin and give back as good as she gets.
” I shake my head, everything wrong. My brain screams at me to shut up, but my mouth keeps moving.
“You’re too soft, a girl who’s still learning what it means to be something to someone, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re nothing to everyone. ”
There’s a rush of footsteps, and then a hand grips my shoulder, fingers digging in deep, spinning me around, and angling me just right for Barrett to land a hammer-like fist right in my face.
The pain is an explosion of sensation, barreling through me even as blood spurts from my nose like a faucet.
“Motherfucker!” I bend at the waist, cupping my nose, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but there’s no stopping it.
“You deserve so much fucking worse, you piece of shit,” Barrett snarls, stepping forward threateningly. Charlie shoves her way in between us, pushing him back. “Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to her like that?”
I shift my hands, pinching the bridge of my nose, watching blood drip down to the floor in slow motion.
It’s going to stain the carpet.
I have no idea how to get blood out, and—a bite of panicked humor hits—I’m pretty sure Charlie’s not going to do it. A snort bubbles out of me, and more blood shoots out of my nose, even as I gasp in pain.
There’s a soft sound, a choked breath, and I look up just in time to catch Charlie’s devastated expression before Barrett pulls her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her, hiding from me as her shoulders shake.
I can hear her, though, the sound muffled like she’s trying to smother her pain—and it’s not working.
I replay the last several minutes, everything coming back to me in slow fragments. I let her in the apartment, wanting to fix whatever the fuck had gone wrong, and now I’ve just made it all a thousand times worse.
“Angel—”
“Don’t you fucking talk to her,” Barrett growls roughly. “You’re done. Fuck off somewhere else, so I can help Charlie pack up in peace.”
“Angel,” I say again, stepping forward, but she doesn’t even twitch in my direction. “Please. I wasn’t—I didn’t—”
Charlie turns her head to the side, keeping her cheek pressed to Barrett’s chest, her eyes shining and wet as they meet mine.
She swallows, her chin quivering, and I stumble away, my heart hurting with what’s about to come.
Desolation fills me, already knowing there’s no taking back what’s happened—last night or just now.
“We’re done, Dillon,” Charlie whispers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m moving out. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for, whatever image you think you need, because I promise you, it won’t be me.”
“No!” It’s a yell, an unyielding denial, even as I ignore the blood that continues to drip over my lips and chin.
I step forward, but Barrett reaches out, swatting my hand away, as if I’m an annoying insect buzzing around his head.
He’s bigger than me, and meaner. I won’t win any kind of tug-of-war with him, and I don’t want to do that to Charlie.
Not after everything I’ve already done.
Swallowing it all down, I take another step away, scrubbing blood-covered hands through my hair, wondering how the hell my world collapsed so quickly.
Yesterday, we were perfect. I was mapping our lives out together, planning a proposal. The ring is already bought and tucked into a ball of socks in my drawer. Now, Charlie is leaving, telling me we are done, and I can’t even fucking blame her.
“I’ll, um…” I say, trailing off when Charlie keeps looking at me like I’m a stranger she’s never seen before.
“I’ll go. Give you some space.” She doesn’t hear a word, her expression unmoving.
Barrett’s still raging, a muscle jumping in his jaw, even as he keeps his arms firmly around her.
Their closeness infuriates me as much as it hurts.
“I’ll go,” I say again. “This isn’t over, Angel.
” That’s what makes her react—a violent flinch that wrenches her body.
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I hadn’t seen it.
“Let me just— I’ll go clean myself up, and then I’ll go.
But we’re not done, Charlie.” My voice cracks on her name.
“Okay? I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make it right. ”
She furrows her brows, giving a slow shake of her head.
“You can’t unring a bell, Dillon. Those words?
I’ll never be able to unhear them. And now, every time I look at you, I’m wondering what else you’ve laughed about behind my back.
What else have you let your friends say about me?
” Her lips twitch into a sad smile, looking like she’s just learned that magic isn’t real.
“I’m looking at you, wondering what else is a lie. ”
“Nothing,” I blurt, sharp and sincere. “Everything between us is honest and true. I love you, Charlie. I have since almost the first moment.”
She nods slowly, and a small vine of hope stretches outward, reaching…
Only to wither and die when she asks, “Okay, then answer me this…Do you have—or have you ever had—feelings for Marisa?”
Oh, fuck.