Chapter 12
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 12:07 AM:where are u reece said u saw ben are u ok??
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 12:11 AM:charlotte answer ur phone
TEXT MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO JACKIE SLAUGHTER, 12:13 AM:I’m back at Randall.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 12:13 AM:dont move im coming
Adrenaline left Charlotte’s body in dribs and drabs. Exhaustion filled the space it left behind, purple like a bruise.
Jackie didn’t ask any questions. Her best friend swaddled her in a blanket like an empanada and pulled up an old sitcom on her laptop. Snacks littered the bed. The cinder-block walls dampened the sound of the Lawn Party that rolled across campus like thunder. Charlotte was safe for now.
Even when her brain stopped lurching between the past and the present, Ben’s sneering face wouldn’t leave her alone.
How could she have been so na?ve? Why did she think she could come back here and have a simple, productive weekend? There were no do-overs in life. This school did not belong to her. Hein University did not exist without Ben Mead. She should have listened to her gut on Thursday night and left.
“Thank you,” she croaked when words returned to her. Her throat hurt. She took a sip from a water bottle Jackie bought at the vending machine. “Sorry I wrecked your night.”
Jackie turned down the volume on her laptop. “You didn’t. I’m so sorry about Ben.”
Charlotte ignored the unnecessary apology. None of this was Jackie’s doing; Charlotte was the one who should have been prepared. She’d had years to get ready for a run-in with Ben, years to think of what to say and practice it in front of the mirror and convince herself that she had no reason to be afraid. After all, she had the courage to break up with him when she was only twenty-one. How could she be even more petrified at twenty-seven?
“I didn’t think he’d come near me,” she admitted.
Jackie scoffed. “Ben’s only joy in life is tormenting women.” She pushed an empty sleeve of Oreos to the end of the bed. “Keep drinking water, you need fluids.”
Charlotte did as she was told. The water helped with the nagging headache at the back of her skull. Her nausea had lifted but she felt like she’d left her kidneys on the President’s Lawn.
Along with her pride.
Jackie offered her a bag of Doritos. Charlotte took a chip and nibbled at it. “I’ll go kick his ass if you want. He’s probably still there, smearing his bad attitude all over the place.”
“It’s fine.” Charlotte licked orange chip crud off her fingers.
Jackie put the chips down. “Do you want me to text Reece? Let him know you’re okay?”
On second thought, maybe her nausea wasn’t gone.
It’s me! How are you? You look great too!
She’d never wanted Reece to meet that mewling, neglected side of her. It was one thing to tell him about her abusive relationship in the sunshine of the quarry, at a moment of her choosing and firmly in the past tense. But to have him witness their toxic dynamic up close and personal? That was something else entirely.
Her skin crawled as she remembered the oily cling of Ben’s stare on her skin.
“I can’t believe Reece saw that,” she groaned.
Jackie patted her head. “He’s seen people vomit before.”
Charlotte cringed. She was pretty sure she’d puked on his hands. His efforts saved her hair from the worst of it, but it still took her a few minutes bent over the bathroom sink to scrub out the stomach acid.
“That’s not what I mean.”
She didn’t know how to explain what happened when Ben appeared. The moment she saw him, conscious thought abandoned her. It felt as if no time had passed at all. He’d summoned her younger self back from the dead.
“I told him it was good to see him,” she admitted. Her words ran thick with self-loathing. “I could have told him to go fuck himself. I could have thrown a drink in his face. Instead I just…”
She chewed on her cuticles as the horror of that moment returned to her: the strength of his cologne, his smug expression, how quickly he dismissed Reece. Ben probably enjoyed that the most, making her twist and simper in front of an audience. The human equivalent of peeing on a woman in front of a competing male, just in case he didn’t get the message.
See this girl? I broke her years ago. Have fun with what’s left.
“I told him he looked good, Jackie. And Reece was right there, watching me grovel.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were dry but they throbbed in her skull, blood pumping at the back of her sockets.
Jackie put a gentle hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. When she didn’t flinch away, Jackie rubbed her back in slow, smooth circles.
“You know how animals have a fight-or-flight response to threats?” she asked.
Charlotte nodded meekly.
Jackie adopted the steady voice she used to lead the support group. “There’s a theory that there are actually four trauma responses for humans, not two. There’s also freeze and fawn.” She massaged the back of Charlotte’s neck. Charlotte let out a whimper as her fingers found a pressure point.
“Freeze is what it sounds like. But fawn is more complicated,” Jackie continued. “It’s when you comply. You try to manage the threat by agreeing with it, or by pleasing it. You literally fawn over it.”
Charlotte didn’t need her to spell out how the concept applied to her current situation. She mulled it over as Jackie poked and prodded her skull.
It made sense. In college, when Ben’s temper boiled over, Charlotte managed him. She apologized, agreed, made herself small, all in the hopes that he would calm down and leave her alone. There was no point fighting back or running away. Her only option was to wait until his anger passed.
When they were together, she wrote it off as an opposites-attract thing: Where Ben was quick and assertive, Charlotte was careful and diplomatic. Every relationship had its give and take, its odd balancing acts. He needed someone to contain his temper. She had the strength for that person to be her. Years spent living with her mother had taught her just how to do it.
That was all bullshit, of course. But it made sense to her at the time.
Fawn response. She fawned over him. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t in any danger, or that Ben wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. The urge to please him remained a part of her like a vestigial organ.
Charlotte shifted to rest her head in Jackie’s lap. She covered her eyes with her hands to block out the glow of the laptop screen until Jackie closed it.
“It’s funny,” Charlotte said. “For a brief moment today, I forgot how much college sucked.”
Jackie snorted. She smoothed Charlotte’s hair away from her face. “It wouldn’t be Hein without some repressed trauma blowing up in our faces.”
Charlotte swallowed her humiliation. She focused on the comforting pressure of Jackie’s fingers against her scalp. Before this weekend, she couldn’t remember the last time someone held her without an agenda. Jackie’s lap was warm and soft, and she was gentle when her fingers snagged in a knot.
“I really do think you should be a therapist,” Charlotte said, instead of thank you.
Jackie huffed. “Maybe I’ll have my own radio show,” she said. “I can be a less problematic, gay Frasier.”
“Real Talk with Jackie Slaughter. I’d call in.”
Charlotte relaxed as Jackie played with her hair. Her body wanted to slow down and let go, fall asleep in her blanket cocoon. It had been a long day, the highs high and the lows extremely low.
“Seriously, though, you should text Reece. He’s worried.”
She stiffened.
And say what?
Thanks for letting me puke on you, so sorry I’m a damaged fuckup.
“He’s just being polite, Jackie.”
Another scoff from her best friend. “Are you kidding? That boy is infatuated with you and he’s freaking out.”
Charlotte remembered the silent struggle on Reece’s face when she admitted she didn’t want to leave the reunion. A big part of Reece wanted the same thing she did, she knew that for a fact. He was as transparent as a sheet of cling wrap.
But Reece was smart. He learned from his mistakes. Wanting her wasn’t a mistake, but wanting a future with her was.
Maybe it was a good thing he’d seen her with Ben tonight. He needed to understand that she had nothing to offer him beyond a slow dance and no-strings-attached fun.
“Why do you always assume the worst of that boy?” Jackie’s impatience bled through the question. Charlotte twisted to squint up at Jackie’s sober face. “He’s never given you one reason to doubt him.”
She uncoiled herself from Jackie’s lap and sat up. “Oh, I don’t know,” Charlotte snipped. “What’s happened in my life to give me trust issues? I’m drawing a blank.”
Jackie hesitated.
Charlotte could see her parsing the right way to respond. She continued before Jackie had a chance to coddle her. “Look, I know Reece isn’t Ben. But he just got out of a serious relationship, and I doubt he wants to deal with my shit.” She picked at her fingernails as she pictured the horror on Reece’s face when she stumbled to the ground. She literally hit rock bottom at his feet. “The real world isn’t pong and nacho fries. I’m not girlfriend material.” She spat the last phrase. It felt perversely satisfying to admit it.
Ben had seen it, and Reece would discover eventually too. She didn’t know how to have a real relationship. She didn’t know how to fight for someone. And no one ever fought for her.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Charlotte startled.
Jackie rolled her eyes, her voice a hard drawl. “I’m sorry that your ex showed up and ruined your night. He’s a pig. But I’m not going to sit here and listen to the bullshit he installed in your brain. I know you don’t believe that about yourself, and Reece doesn’t either.” Jackie’s eyes narrowed. “Give me your hand.”
“What?”
She snatched Charlotte’s hand from her mouth and held it up to her face. “You are literally eating yourself. Do you see this?” Jackie waved her hand around by the wrist, forcing Charlotte to see her bleeding cuticles. “So you’re a depressed bisexual with terrible parents. That doesn’t mean you don’t know how to love someone. Do you hear me?”
Charlotte stared at her, stuck between years of hurt and the dark laugh growing in her throat. She yanked her hand back and curled her nails into her palm.
Jackie barreled on. “You didn’t deserve how Ben treated you. That’s why you left him. And you don’t deserve how your mother treated you. That’s why she’s not in your life. But don’t you dare write off Reece. It’s just another way for you to give up on yourself. And that’s exactly what your mom would want you to do. And Roger, for that matter.”
The urge to laugh at her best friend’s tough love evaporated. “Please don’t bring my job into this.”
Jackie’s eyes flashed. “Oh, I think we should, because you’re a dumbass if you don’t see the connection.”
Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest, torn between desperation to avoid the conflict that had been brewing all weekend and anger that Jackie wouldn’t let this go. “Please just drop it.”
“No. I’m not keeping my mouth shut anymore.” She’d clearly been thinking about this for a while, the words flying off her tongue. “I’m worried about you, and I’m not the only one. Nina hadn’t heard from you in months. Jio said it’s been over a year. Amy told me you never hang out with her anymore even though you’re both in Brooklyn.”
Charlotte jerked backward. They’d all talked about it, about her. When? This weekend?
Did they appoint Jackie as their official representative? Was Reece in on this too?
Her nails made painful crescents against her palm. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to call your best friend? You can’t just assume we’ll always pick up right where we left off.” Jackie sat up on her knees. The accusation hit Charlotte in the chest. She knew Jackie was annoyed with her for being distracted, but nothing prepared her for the full force of her friend’s hurt. “I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re choosing to be alone,” Jackie added. “You have no idea what’s going on in my life, but you immediately pick up the phone when Roger calls.”
“Hey! I asked about your dad yesterday and you didn’t want to talk about it,” Charlotte shot back even as the attack shook her hard. Shame made her fingers twitch and curl into a fist.
“Because I didn’t want to spend my Friday night thinking about my family.” Jackie groaned and kneaded at her temples. “Damn it, I don’t want to fight with you. I miss you! I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving and you spent that whole holiday answering emails. I thought this weekend would be different, but if anything, it’s worse.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened, her anger thick enough to choke on. Didn’t Jackie see she didn’t have a choice? Or was she blinded by her loving parents and their Westchester County megamansion? “That isn’t fair. You live on the opposite side of the country. I can’t just walk down the hall to see you anymore.”
“Oh come on. Do they not have FaceTime in Brooklyn?” Jackie shook her head, looking dazed. “I can’t believe this. I thought the reunion would help, that coming back here together would help.”
Charlotte’s voice hardened. “I told you from the beginning that I only came here to work.”
Jackie’s eyes went wide. She began to blink rapidly, trying not to cry. Charlotte went cold as she realized the ugliness of what she’d said.
“Only?”Jackie laughed humorlessly. “Wow. Thanks, Charlotte. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
Her hurt landed with a thud between them on the bed. Charlotte dug at her fingers, barely noticing the blood under her nails. I’m sorry scrambled up her throat as she took in the betrayal on her best friend’s face.
Jackie read Charlotte’s guilt and she softened, changing tack. “I know that quitting Front End would be a huge deal,” she said in her support group voice again, compartmentalizing her feelings to focus on the topic at hand. “But you’re not trapped. You’ll find another job. I’ll help you! You just have to tell me how you feel every once in a while.”
You’re not trapped.
Charlotte’s blood roared in her ears. She gaped at Jackie as flaming orange shock surged across her mind.
How could Jackie be so clueless?
Charlotte wasn’t just trapped. She was on her own, all the time, forever. She had no supportive family a phone call away. She couldn’t ask anyone for a loan when she was short on rent. She couldn’t rely on a late-night pep talk from a loving parent.
She was no emergency contact to list at the doctor’s office alone, written out of the will alone, might as well be dead alone.
And now she was my best friend doesn’t get it alone too.
“What are you doing all this work for?” Jackie blurted out in the silence as Charlotte reeled. “Is this the life you want? Letting some asshole berate you twenty-four-seven? Is this really who you thought you’d be?”
And then it was back…the oil slick of shame as Ben leered at her. The noxious gray fumes of Roger’s cruelty. The darkness of a subway tunnel.
Charlotte swallowed, licked her lips. “I’m sorry I don’t have the luxury of thinking like that,” she hissed. “I’m just trying to get through the day, every fucking day.”
Jackie looked desperate. She floundered for something to say, her eyes darting. Finally she gasped, “You don’t have to live in survival mode!”
“I don’t have a choice.” Charlotte’s voice had turned to steel again, low and uncompromising. “I don’t have a family, Jackie. I can’t depend on anyone but myself.”
Jackie’s eyes finally brimmed over with tears. Her mouth flattened into a thin line. “You’re gonna feel like a real asshole tomorrow for saying that,” she said.
Goddamn it, she already did.
“I can’t be here right now.” Charlotte dropped from the bed and shoved her feet into her loafers.
Jackie watched open-mouthed as she grabbed her phone from its charging cradle on the dresser. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see you later.”
The heavy dorm room door slammed shut behind her, locking automatically. Charlotte realized a second too late that she forgot the keys.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM REECE KRUEGER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 1:17 AM:hey. just making sure you’re okay?
Charlotte took the long, winding footpath from the dorm to the south side of campus. The ambling route let her skirt University Road and the foot traffic to Senior Housing. It also kept her far from frat row, where Ben would retreat when he tired of the Lawn Party.
Better to stick to the dirt path and the dark.
She couldn’t think. All she knew was swirling color, anger clotting red in her lungs, guilt blue-black in her throat. She tried to breathe, gathering lungfuls of oxygen and expelling them in slow exhales. It didn’t help.
You worthless piece of shit.
Reece was mad at her. Now so was Jackie. Maybe Jio and Nina too, going off what Jackie said about them not hearing from her enough. She had neglected huge swaths of her life, and then tonight she’d burned whatever had survived the drought.
Jackie was wrong. Jackie was right. Charlotte hated her job, and she needed her job. She missed her friends, and her friends didn’t understand her anymore.
She hated her life, and she couldn’t live it any other way.
Right now she needed to be somewhere safe. Somewhere she didn’t have to deal with Jackie or Ben or Reece. Somewhere free of traumatic memories or insulting advice. Somewhere she was accepted without question.
She turned the corner on University Road and headed down the row of student program houses. The front door at Acronym would be unlocked. She could pour herself a steaming cup of coffee in the kitchen. Maybe someone would go halvsies with her on a pizza.
Charlotte stopped short on the sidewalk. A man stood in front of Acronym, his hands thrust in his back pockets. He stared at the wood-frame house like a soldier preparing himself for battle, his body rigid with anxiety. It seemed she wasn’t the only person on their own tonight, avoiding the crowds and battling inner demons.
The man shifted his weight onto his other foot. The beam of a streetlight caught his profile, illuminating his furrowed brow. Garrett still wore his clothes from the quarry, a loose bro tank and basketball shorts.
It didn’t make sense: him, here, with that expression his face. She knew it deep in her soul, his frown severe as he worried over the house in front of him.
She had stumbled across a private moment of reckoning. Once upon a time as a freshman, Charlotte stood there herself, weighing her preppy clothes and fledgling queer identity against the explosive color of the LGBTQIA+ center and worrying that she wouldn’t belong. Gathering the courage to ring the doorbell. Not knowing the doorbell was broken and she should knock, or better yet just let herself in.
Charlotte hesitated. Her riot of emotions quieted as she considered Reece’s best friend. Should she turn around and leave him alone, pretend she’d never seen him here? Surely Garrett didn’t want an audience, least of all her.
Then again, taking that first step up the path was so much easier with someone by your side.
Before she could decide, Garrett noticed her in the distance. He stiffened, his shoulders hunching. They eyed each other for an uncertain moment, their usual tension not fitting this new setting.
“Hi,” Charlotte ventured. She knew better than to smile and feign a friendship that didn’t exist.
Garrett didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either.
After waiting a beat, she closed the distance between them, stopping a few feet away.
Still, he stayed quiet.
Charlotte mirrored his posture and turned to face the house. Even at the late hour, Acronym pulsed with life and belonging. The curtains were drawn but figures passed by the windows, silhouetted against the glow. A Mitski song flirted with the breeze from an open window.
“Quiet down here, huh?” Charlotte said. “The tent got too loud for me.”
In her peripheral vision, Garrett’s mouth twitched. “Hot too,” he agreed. He sounded wary.
“I need coffee,” she carried on, like they made small talk all the time instead of glaring at each other behind Reece’s back. A Progress Pride flag fluttered on the porch railing, pleasant as a queer Norman Rockwell painting. “They always have a pot brewing in the kitchen.”
Nothing from Garrett.
“I nearly started a fire junior year,” she added. “Poured in too many grounds.”
Garrett laughed, and then coughed. She cast him a quick glance. The tension in his shoulders relaxed somewhat, which seemed like a good sign. They formed a united front and considered the fa?ade of the house together.
“I could use a cup of coffee.” Hunger throbbed through his words, betraying years of yearning.
But when Charlotte took a step forward on the path, he didn’t follow. He stayed rooted on the sidewalk, his posture ramrod straight.
“They don’t check your queer bona fides at the door,” Charlotte said. His eyes flicked from the house to her face, his mouth thinning. “Everyone’s welcome.”
Garrett sighed in a quick whoosh. With a dubious look at his ratty bro tank, he said, “I look like shit.”
“No one ever threw me out for wearing J.Crew.” During freshman orientation, Charlotte looked about as gay as a Vineyard Vines catalog.
His eyes shifted back and forth between her and the bright green doorway behind her. Charlotte felt lucky to watch him grapple with himself, an intimacy she’d done nothing to deserve.
“C’mon,” she said. “It’s just coffee.”
His yearning won out. This time when she walked toward Acronym, he followed.
Garrett stopped when they crossed the threshold. She turned to check on him and found him thunderstruck as he took in the foyer, from the mountain of shoes beside the front door, to the multicolor wrapping paper taped to the walls. Someone had stolen blue-and-silver tinsel from the dining hall and wrapped it around the stair railing. It looked like a shabby dollhouse of radical queer politics, every surface loud and soft.
Years ago, she’d dragged Jackie through the front door with an earnest Welcome home! For Garrett, she kept it simple. “The kitchen’s through here,” she said after giving him time to adjust. He followed her down the hallway.
A boy sat on the counter surrounded by Thai take-out boxes. He looked up as Charlotte entered and smiled: It was Wynn, the almost-grad she met at the disco. He waved them over with his chopsticks. “Hi! Charlotte, right?”
“Hey, how are you?”
Wynn shrugged. He wore another jumpsuit, this one a deep blue color with a feel the bern button and several other pins on the pocket. “Just got back from the Lawn. Waiting for the ringing in my ears to stop,” he said. “DJ Khaled isn’t my vibe.”
“Me neither. Mind if I make some coffee?” Charlotte nodded to the pot beside the sink.
“Help yourself.” Wynn swirled his chopsticks through a box of pad thai. “Plenty of food too. You know where the plates are.”
Garrett hesitated in the doorway, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Charlotte gave him an encouraging nod. “Wynn, this is Garrett.”
Wynn waved as he chewed some tofu.
Charlotte pointed to a cabinet over the microwave. “Can you get some mugs down? You’re taller than I am.”
The direct request overrode Garrett’s nerves, and he crossed the room to help.
“Hi, Garrett,” Wynn trilled after swallowing. “Please eat something, I ordered way too much.”
Garrett blinked as Wynn passed him some chopsticks. “Thank you.” He unwrapped the paper and snapped the sticks apart. “Nice pins.”
“Thanks!” Wynn pinched the fabric between his fingers and held it out so that Garrett could see his collection. Charlotte recognized a purple he/him badge that her class made during a fundraiser for house repairs. Jio went a little nuts with the button maker at the student activities office. Extra pronoun buttons still lived in a shoebox in the library upstairs.
Garrett shook some noodles onto a clean plate. “Is this from Naga? Love that place.”
“Yeah! I’ve been trying to re-create their cashew stir-fry, but I can’t get the texture right. There’s rice too.” Wynn passed him another take-out box.
“You like to cook?” Garrett leaned against the counter beside him.
“When I have time. My friend and I want to start a YouTube channel with like, super basic tutorials. I have this great recipe for home-cooked potato chips, hang on.”
Charlotte kept an eye on Garrett as she hunted down coffee grounds. His hesitation faded amid the enthusiasm of their host’s chatter. Nothing like food to make everyone feel included.
She put a fresh pot on to boil. Before long the room smelled like dark roast and spices. While she waited for it to brew, she read the notices stuck to the refrigerator. Magnets held up posters for concerts and student plays, handwritten infographics about consent and microaggressions.
Refugees are welcome here. DREAMers are welcome here. The undocumented are welcome here. First-gen students are welcome here. Survivors are welcome here.
Trans women are women.
Ban billionaires.
Thick black Sharpie underlined the idealism of Hein’s current students. She traced the handwritten words on a page ripped from a zine: Casual sex does not mean you can be casual with your partner’s humanity.
Below this startling wisdom, in all caps: LOVE YOUR ONE-NIGHT STAND. HOOKUP CULTURE IS TOXIC.
“Is someone making coffee?” Jio slinked into the room, rubbing their eyes. Their makeup was hopelessly smeared but they brightened as soon as they recognized her. “Char! Where’ve you been?”
“Get a mug, I put on a full pot.” Charlotte nodded to where Wynn was walking Garrett through a recipe. “Jio, you know Garrett.”
“Course I do!” Jio hopped up onto the counter beside the takeout. “How you doing, hun?”
They didn’t bat a glittery eyelash at Garrett’s abrupt appearance. She felt a surge of love for her friend.
The coffee maker dinged. Charlotte poured out four mugs as Wynn fetched oat and whole milk from the fridge. They sipped and chatted about soy sauce. Charlotte mostly listened, watching Garrett relax into the conversation. When she caught his eye accidentally, he hesitated before giving her a small nod.
She wondered what brought him here: who he was and how long he’d known. But the details weren’t any of her business. Acronym was a place to come and just be. Grab a cup of coffee and dance to the disco music. Ignore your problems or organize to fight them. Pass out on a futon without being hassled.
Share as much or as little of your story as you want to share.
Jio snuggled in next to her. “Where’s Reece?” they asked in a velvety whisper.
Charlotte ran a finger around the rim of her coffee cup. “Elsewhere.”
“And Jackie?”
“Also elsewhere.”
Jio rested their head against her shoulder, hmm-ing under their breath. They still looked half-asleep despite the caffeine. And why wouldn’t they? They’d had a huge weekend. An engagement announcement, two dance parties, a long trip from D.C….
Charlotte wrapped her arm around their shoulders and gave them a side hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she said. “Seriously.”
Jio straightened up, their smile returning even as they fought back a yawn. “Thanks, Char.” The yawn escaped and Jio covered their mouth with their hand. When it passed, Jio rolled their eyes. “Who would have thought. Me, engaged.”
Charlotte took a careful sip of her coffee. She hoped she wasn’t being rude when she asked, “Are you scared?”
Jio drummed their nails on the kitchen island as they considered her question. “Of marriage? Not really.” They frowned. “I’m scared of, like, money stuff. Debt. But marriage doesn’t scare me. Matt’s always been my future.”
“You don’t worry about, uh—” She hesitated. “I mean, your parents are divorced too.”
Jio waved off her unasked question. “Yeah, but we’re not them,” they said. “I won’t let us become them.”
She marveled at their words. What a brave thing to say. She bit her lip, torn between jealousy and doubt.
Jio looped their arm around her waist. “I think Matt worries,” they admitted, lowering their voice. “He didn’t grow up with a lot of love. I still freak him out sometimes.” Jio winked at her. “You may not know this, but I’m a bit much.”
“I had no idea,” she drawled, and they laughed. Their joy was infectious, and she smiled as they added some sugar to their coffee.
Her phone trilled in her pocket, announcing an incoming text. She felt the blood drain from her face, even though she knew it was probably Jackie. Or Reece, wanting to make sure she wasn’t passed out on the softball field.
“Are you okay, hun?” Jio nudged her shoulder gently. “Something bothering you?”
Oh nothing. Only her shithead boss, her narcissist ex-boyfriend, her abusive mother, her furious best friend, and the guy she’d fallen for whom she would never, ever deserve.
Charlotte winced. “Lots of demons tonight.”
Jio hummed under their breath again, and then looked around the kitchen. “We could have another meeting,” they suggested. “This place is like the 3Ds clubhouse.”
“No, it’s okay—”
But Jio gave her a clever smile and turned to Wynn and Garrett. “Hey, do you guys have shitty parents?”
The boys gave them matching quizzical looks.
Jio gestured vaguely with their hand. “Controlling, unsupportive, that kind of thing.”
Wynn smiled at some private joke. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Jio nodded and turned to Garrett. “What about yours?”
He froze. “Uh…Sometimes?”
“Perfect.” Jio clapped their hands once. They channeled Jackie’s fearless-leader energy as they announced, “I hereby declare an emergency meeting of the Dead, Divorced, and Otherwise Disappointing Parents Unofficial Support Group.”
Wynn guffawed at the announcement but leaned forward with interest. Garrett just blinked.
Charlotte hid her face in her hand, torn between embarrassment and amusement. Leave it to Jio to pressure two strangers into doing emotional labor in her hour of need. “You do not need to be part of this,” she told them.
“Go ahead!” Wynn raised his coffee in a toast. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”
Garrett gave her a little you might as well shrug, clearly resigned to wherever this night took him.
Satisfied by their consent, Jio turned back to Charlotte. “Okay, go on, then. What’s on your mind?”
Fixed in the stares of her three companions, Charlotte tightened her grip on her mug. She could maybe imagine telling Jio the truth, but she couldn’t bare her soul to Garrett. And Wynn was a total stranger.
Then again, there had to be a reason Reece kept Garrett around. Judging by where they were, he clearly had hidden depths. And she recognized Amy’s wide-eyed faith in Wynn’s open face.
Use your words, Charlotte Thorne!
“Okay.” Charlotte put her coffee down, and then picked it back up to have something to do with her hands. “All right.”
She opened her mouth.
She thought of the bracing cold of Cobalt Pond, and Jackie’s pursed lips as she focused on her eyeliner. She remembered Reece’s teeth grazing her neck in her twin bed, and his fingers woven through hers as he guided her through the Lawn Party. She felt the warmth that spread through her chest when he gave her that just-for-Charlie smile.
But…the freshly sharpened knife of Ben’s white smile. Reece’s face falling as he realized she wasn’t who he thought she was. Jackie fighting back tears. Her vermillion self-loathing as she scrubbed bile out of her hair over the sink.
Her jaw closed with a snap.
Jio leaned against the island and propped their chin up on their palm. “Are you okay?”
She wanted to say no. She wanted to say yes. But her voice died in her throat like a snuffed candle. She set her mug down again and flattened her hands on the kitchen island.
Charlotte took a shaky breath. “I can’t, Jio. I’m sorry.”
Jio tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. They made little cooing sounds under their breath, just like Reece had done as he guided her out of the tent.
Charlotte’s eyes wandered to the fridge, to all those capital letters across construction paper. She turned to Wynn. “Does this place still have colored pencils?”