Chapter 17
seventeen
Charlie
A s I crossed the footbridge onto Clean Slate Ranch, my shorts finally stopped dripping onto my thighs.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I hissed at myself. Why had I thought I could film something like that and Cash wouldn’t see my legs? Because I was blinded by the almighty dollar sign. That’s why.
Hearing Cash say all of his songs were about me? Having him kiss me like that? My mind had run wild—thinking foolish notions about things like a wedding dress, a farmhouse, and babies. But when he said I was perfect? That’s when reality slapped me across the face.
None of those were in the cards for me. Not with someone as high-quality as Cash.
I jogged up the hill, hoping to pass my parents’ house unnoticed.
No such luck.
“Charlie?” Mom called, ousting herself from her rocking chair on the front porch of the oversized cottage I grew up in. It was evident from her tone that she’d been expecting my arrival.
I slowed to a walk.
She waddled down the stairs. “Hey, are you okay? Your dad texted.”
“I’m fine.” I pasted on a smile, waved her back, and kept going. I did not need this right now.
“Charlie, s-stop!” she cried, out of breath.
My fingers balled into fists but I did as she asked. “Mom, I just want to go home and take all of this off.” I gestured at my shorts which were chafing my thighs like crazy. “I think I have a splinter in my big toe.”
“Sweetie, come here.” She walked over and pulled me close, but her big belly wouldn’t allow for a decent hug. “Hey. Look at me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, gathering my resolve. Then I opened them.
Her expression was full of pity. “You’re cutting yourself?”
I glanced over her shoulder, focusing on the Japanese maple at the side of the house. “Not anymore.”
“But you did? In the past?”
“Mom?” My voice shook. “Can we do this another time? I’m really not up for the Spanish Inquisition right now.” I wasn’t being fair. I knew that. But I was at my max.
Emotion rippled through her features, sharp and unspoken. “Please, come home. You need our love. We’ve got your room all ready. Jane and I bought new bedding. All pastels, your favorite. We just want to spend time with you.”
I stepped back. “I…I need some space.”
“Space?” she whispered like it hurt to say the word. “What do you think the last four years have been? Do you have any idea how much we’ve missed you? How much I’ve missed you?”
It felt like something invisible was squeezing the air out of me. I needed to go. Needed to think. I hardened my expression. “Why? You’ve made a whole family of replacements.”
She flinched at my accusation. “Is that what you think?”
Way past my breaking point, I snapped. “You want to know what I think?” Her eyes were unsure. But it looked like it was a day for breaking hearts, so why not add another to the list? “I think you ‘love me.’” I made air quotes. “Because you have to. Because I’m your kid and it’s your responsibility. Because you’ve told yourself that being a mom means never giving up on people. But you should give up on me. I’m bad ,” I hissed. “I’m a bad person with bad blood running through my veins. I’m not worth loving. So I give you permission to stop. You don’t need to try to love me anymore. Go love all your other kids. They won’t let you down the way I have.” I shrugged. “Letting people down is my specialty."
The softness drained from her face, leaving steel behind. “Bad blood? Is that really what you think?”
“No.” I jabbed a finger at the ground. “It’s what I know . My dad—my real dad—was a rapist! I don’t know how you can stand to look at me. I can hardly stand to look at myself because he’s all I see.” My voice was half-maniacal and one hundred percent out of control. “I look like him.”
“No, you don’t.” Her face was one tight crunch like she was fighting against the very idea. “You look like me. We’re practically twins.”
“Just stop! I looked him up online, okay?” I pounded a fist against my chest. “I look like him.”
“No,” she gritted out. “You look like me . Theo looks a lot more like him than you do and I don’t care. And neither does he. He knows that doesn’t mean anything.”
“That’s because Theo is…” I threw my hands out. “Theo. Nothing ruffles him. He just makes good choices. It’s what he does! But I’m bad, Mom. I’m a bad person just like my dad.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Her voice was thick with sympathy, and it made my skin crawl. “That is not true. Trevor didn’t care about anyone but himself. You are one of the most caring people I know. You hate to see people suffer.”
“Because I’m weak,” I spat.
“No.” Her eyes narrowed, determined. “Remember when we found out Cash was Ford’s kid and you organized that whole night to fill in all the blanks of everything they’d missed in each other’s lives? You spent hours and hours working to make it perfect. A bad person wouldn’t have done that.”
“Yeah.” My jaw jutted. “Well. I just broke Cash’s heart, so I think I more than canceled out that one good deed.”
She shook her head. “I know how much you care about him. Even now I can see that. You’re probably keeping him at arm’s length because you think you need to protect him, aren’t you? That’s what you’re doing to us too, isn’t it? But we don’t need protecting. We need to love you.”
Just then, the side-by-side came over the bridge. Ashton was driving, with my three blond-haired, blue-eyed half-siblings. Jane, Tristan, and Emily were each strapped safely in their seats. Because Ashton was a good dad. The best. The kind whose blood you wanted filling your veins until you burst open from his goodness.
But he wasn’t mine.
Not really. My dark hair and dark eyes were a stark reminder of that every day.
“I have to go,” I choked and broke into a run.
* * *
I took a forty-five-minute-long steaming hot shower. Half of it I spent self-deprecating, the other half trying to scrub the self-inflicted cutting scars from my thighs. I hadn’t cut in over ten months, but those scars were always there, reminding me of my past.
You were under a lot of pressure. You’re different now.
I was. But I’d done that to myself. I couldn’t blame it on anyone else. I wouldn’t. Blaming others for your actions does nothing but perpetuate a cycle of bad behavior. And Charlie Dupree was a cycle breaker. Of that, I was determined.
The last time I ever cut, I looked down at what I was doing and it hit me. I needed help. But I couldn’t afford therapy. I was broke—and not sort of broke—broke as a freaking joke. Completely overwhelmed, I said a prayer, asking God to help me find a better way to deal with the pain of…everything.
Just like at the police station, I’d opened the TikTok app. And just like at the police station, Cash appeared on my screen. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. But that particular day, he was sitting on his balcony at Virginia Tech, a guitar in his lap. “I’m going to share a little of my songwriting process with y’all,” he’d said. “Right now, I’m working on a song called ‘Hard to Love You.’” There was this light in his eyes—bright, proud.
As soon as I heard it, I knew it was about me. About our Hawaii kiss. I’d been mesmerized—replayed it probably fifty times—all the while wondering how Cash was so…steady. So brave and sure. He’d grown up trying to earn the love of his dead-beat dad, only to find out at the age of thirteen that he wasn’t his dad at all. Ford was. It was heartbreaking, thrilling, and confusing all at the same time. But he’d rolled with it. He didn’t hate himself. Definitely didn’t self-harm. I’d always wondered how.
But as I watched him that day, I knew. Cash wrote music. He created. That was his outlet. The thing that filled all the holes nothing else could. He’d told me that when he was younger, but that day I got it.
So, I searched through the cracks of my car, searching for spare change. I didn’t have enough for an actual sheet music composition notebook. I got the cheapest regular notebook I could find at Walmart. Then I drew the lines for a music staff, using the straight edge of a gaming book that Lorne had left in the car. Then I set to work.
At first, my music was garbage. But I kept at it. Now, I had three actual music composition notebooks full of songs. Meaningless to the rest of the world, but to me? They were gold. Composing had healed me. At least enough to stop hurting myself. It gave me something to look forward to every day. A reason to live.
I turned off the shower, stepped onto the bath mat, and slowly wiped the water from my red-hot skin. I took my time dressing and combing out my hair. Somehow, I knew Cash was waiting in my bedroom. But I couldn’t hide in here forever. So, with shaking hands, I turned the knob.
But Cash wasn’t sitting on the end of my bed waiting for an explanation.
Aunt Peyton was.
I pulled the bathroom door shut behind me, afraid to meet her eye.
“Come have a seat.” She patted the mattress next to her.
I sat and turned to face her, legs criss cross, my heart trying to eject itself from my body.
“Charlie, I need to say something.” She gave my knee a gentle squeeze. “But before I do, I want to tell you how much I love you. And how happy I am that you called me when you decided it was time to come home.”
“I love you too.” I shoved my hands under my thighs to stop their shaking. Peyton’s tone was too careful, like she knew whatever she was about to say was going to hurt me. I rolled my shoulders back, trying to be brave.
She squared her shoulders like she was ready for battle. “I need you to not hurt my boy.” I stared at her, wondering if there was more. But her lips were closed tight, waiting intensely for a response.
“Okay,” I said, feeling like she’d asked me a trick question I didn’t know the answer to. “I’m not sure what you mean specifically.”
“I mean that I can’t watch his heart break again and I doubt the rest of the family wants to watch it either.” Her fingernail made a soft curlicue on my knee. “When you chose Lorne in Hawaii, Cash put up a good front. He went surfing, snorkeling, took selfies with his cousins while they ate shaved ice. But it was all a lie. It was killing him inside.”
I nodded, but my lungs seized, hating the hurt I now knew I’d caused him.
She continued. “When it became clear by the last day that you weren’t coming back, he broke down, head in my lap, sobbing. He had his first and last panic attack. Ford and I had to drag him into the shower and hold him, the three of us fully clothed, the water pouring down on us, to get him to stop.”
I wiped a tear from my cheek. “I know I chose wrong. I regretted it every day. I just…I didn’t think Cash was serious then. I thought he was being hot-headed. It didn’t make sense. I never even suspected?—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. You’re a grown woman and if you want to marry someone that isn’t Cash, that’s your right. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?” I sounded so timid. Not at all bold and confident like my aunt.
“He laid it all out there today. He told you he loved you. All his songs are about you. There can’t possibly be any room left for doubt.”
“No,” I whispered. “There’s not.”
Her head tilted and her mouth pinched. “But you know what I didn’t hear?”
I stared at her, waiting.
“I didn’t hear you say you love him back.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting a sob that was desperate to break free. “I’m sorry,” was all I could say.
“Hey,” she soothed. “I didn’t come up here to make you feel bad. That’s not what this is about. I love you, honey. You’re as much a niece to me as Sophie, Maddie, or Jane. And whether you choose Cash or not, I will always love you.”
“What’s it about then, because I’m feeling pretty terrible?” I laughed through my tears.
She laughed too and pressed a hand to my cheek. “Cash would be upset if he knew I was saying this to you, but I can’t watch him be yanked around. And you have to keep in mind that things are even more complicated because we’re all family. Much lesser things have torn families apart.” She wiped a tear from my cheek. “So if you’re not certain you want a relationship with him, you need to tell him that. No back-and-forth, internal tug-of-war nonsense where you reel him in, push him away, reel him in again. Because he is all in. And if I have to watch something like that…” She shook her head. “If we have to watch something like that…” I didn’t need her to finish. She would think less of me. Might even resent me. Along with everyone else.
“I don’t know that I can give him that.” I wanted to add ‘right now’ but that hinted that things might change and I had no guarantees. “I still have a lot to work through.”
“I understand.” Her eyes turned down but she nodded. “Your ex did a number on you, didn’t he?”
My hands fisted around the bottom of my T-shirt. I watched as my fingers twisted it this way and that. Anything not to meet her eye. “Do you want me to move out? I can probably move into that studio in Lemon and Silas’s barn?”
“No, honey. That would hurt Cash and we’re trying to avoid that right now.”
I looked up. “Worse than staying?”
“I think so.” We sat there in awkward silence. I didn’t know what else to say. I guess she didn’t either because she gave my knee one last pat. “Let him down gently, will you?”