Chapter 24
SAM
Sam’s fingers hurried over the keys of her laptop.
Her stomach was still a bit uneasy from last night, so she needed any distraction she could possibly get.
She’d woken up from what felt like the most vivid dream that inspired a brand new scene in her book, and she had been more than eager to get it out of her head and onto paper.
After Charlie had walked out to run a few errands, she’d practically sprinted back to the bedroom to grab her laptop and get to work.
She typed the final word of the scene she’d come up with, staring down at the page with satisfaction.
With Charlie’s help, writing this book had felt like an absolute breeze.
They had agreed to not talk too much about the logistics of their fake dating, but it was yielding far more creativity in her than she’d expected.
But, then again, how could she not when she had Charlie as a model of what a romantic lead would be like?
He was everything—and then some.
As the cursor blinked in front of her, wondering if there was anything else she wanted to add to this new scene, her mind began to drift.
What had happened last night?
When she’d woken up, groggy with a headache pounding behind her temples, she couldn’t remember most of the night before. She’d laid there for a while, racking her brain, but nothing came.
She remembered getting to the club with Charlie. Getting a drink or two. The guy she’d bumped into. Charlie scaring him off. A few more drinks. Some dancing. But, after that, nothing.
It was as if someone reached in and had taken a chunk of her memory with them. It certainly felt that way, too, with the way her head still throbbed behind her eyes, pulsing there with a monotonous beat that even painkillers hadn’t managed to fully dull.
It wasn’t hard to miss how off Charlie had seemed when he left earlier, though she’d hadn’t thought hard on it at the time.
Her stomach coiled in on itself, wondering if it was because of something she had done.
She desperately hoped not. She’d already put this poor man through the wringer with all of her other drama—between helping her with this book of hers and letting her crash with him because of her whole stalker situation.
The last thing Charlie needed was for her to do something else to make him uncomfortable.
She licked her lips, dry from the lack of hydration the past several hours. Her body sank back against the couch, the sheer weight of life the past few weeks making her body feel as if it suddenly weighed a ton.
It had been a bit since she’d had proper sleep, and despite the fact that she’d completely passed out the night before, it still didn’t feel like enough.
A year’s worth of sleep didn’t feel like it would be enough.
It surprised her just how much everything had started weighing down on her over time, only now aware of it from the raw exposure a night of drinking had uncovered.
But she felt it now, weighing her down like a ton of bricks.
She could use a nap, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep now even though she was so exhausted.
Charlie wasn’t there.
She wouldn’t be able to fully relax until after he got back. The only time she had managed to get any sleep recently had been when he was nearby. As if her body sensed him near and was able to fully let go, knowing she was safe with him there.
Until he got back, however, she would try to dive into her work.
She was so close to the halfway point that she could practically taste it.
It was the one thing in her life, currently, that made the most sense, and she wanted to cling to that.
It had been a lifeline even in some of the darkest periods of her life, and now was no different.
First, though, she needed to get some water and her chapstick.
Dehydration was starting to kick in a bit as dryness tickled the back of her throat and crackled across her lips.
She had been particularly bad about drinking water throughout the night between bouts of running to the toilet, and she definitely felt the effects of that now.
Water was her first stop as she meandered into the kitchen and pulled a bottle out of the fridge.
It was perfectly cold as she tore the cap off, gulping down the liquid.
A trickle of it escaped through the side of her mouth in her haste, slinking down her throat and soaking into the collar of her shirt.
With a satisfied gasp after finishing the entire bottle, she glanced down to see how badly she’d gotten herself wet—immediately blushing when she realized what she was wearing.
It was one of Charlie’s shirts.
A long, now wrinkled gray T-shirt that came down to just above her thighs. The bottom of it skimmed along the edges of whatever pajama shorts she’d thrown on as well. She must’ve grabbed whatever was closest last night when she tore that tight-ass dress off to get more comfortable.
Hopefully, he didn’t mind too much that she’d borrowed it. After she took a shower in a bit, she’d wash it and give it back.
Before that, however, she needed something to stave off the dryness running across her lips.
She went in search of where she’d last stashed her chapstick, finding her purse haphazardly tossed onto the floor near the bedroom door entrance—likely having been tossed there in a desperate attempt to get to the toilet the night before.
Her phone started ringing before she could apply it, trotting back to the couch where she’d left it to answer.
The cop, the one she’d spoken to last, chimed a greeting from the other end. Sam tried to remember what his name was, as it was different from Robert, the first one she’d spoken to. What was his name? Tom?
Regardless, Sam could hear the tension leaking through the phone. His voice was clipped, tight, like he was looking forward to this phone call just about as much as she had.
Which meant he probably didn’t have good news to bring.
Dread snaked itself deep into the pit of her stomach as reality slammed back into place.
She knew it’d been coming, but she wasn’t ready for it.
She’d almost convinced herself that this whole living arrangement with Charlie was more about their fake dating experiment than what it really was—that she was staying with him for her safety against some crazy stalker.
How the hell was this her reality right now?
Too much of her life was slipping out of her control, too much was changing, and she was struggling to grapple with that.
Charlie. She wanted Charlie right now.
Her entire being cried out for him, for his comforting arms wrapped around her, but she cleared her throat instead.
Her gut instinct to shield him from this awful thing, knowing damned well how pissed at her he would be if she did, nipped at her heels.
She’d update him later when he got back.
She could take care of herself until then, like she always did.
For now, she steeled herself for what was to come.
Tom, as she’d guessed correctly, continued when she didn’t say anything. “Is your boyfriend there with you? Might make you feel a little better for what updates I have for you.”
“He’s not…” She stopped herself, finding it harder for her to say he’s not my boyfriend, than she thought, and—even more troubling—she didn’t want to. “He’s not back home yet.”
“Should I call you back when he gets back? I can—”
A sound from the front door pulled Sam’s attention away, turning to see Charlie coming through the front door, a paper bag tucked beneath one arm and another smaller one clutched in his hands.
Relief barreled into her, and she felt herself let out a quiet gasp seeing him. He was here.
“You’re back.” She sighed.
“Did your boyfriend get back?” Tom echoed, sounding a bit more hopeful, likely for Sam’s sake, which was appreciated.
“He did,” she replied, turning her attention to Charlie. Upon seeing the relief that must’ve been stamped across her face, he dropped the bag onto the counter and made his way toward her.
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked.
Sam hovered her hand over the phone. “I’m getting an update on Paul.”
Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed as he came into the living room and sat next to her on the couch, the smell of grease and salt wafting from the smaller bag as he placed it on the coffee table. “Put him on speaker.”
Paul’s real name, as it turned out, was Jonathan Handley.
And Jonathan Handley apparently had a history.
There were at least three other women he had done this to, changing his name each time and disappearing until he inevitably cropped back up again.
Sam now sat perched in Charlie’s lap, hardly noticing that Charlie had slowly dragged her into his lap over the course of the phone call. His large frame enveloped her like a blanket made entirely of warmth and steel. Comforting and protective wrapped in one—like he knew that she would need it.
And he was right.
A stormy expression had plagued his normally soft features since they’d ended the phone call, giving him a hardness that she had rarely ever seen.
She hated that it was there because of her.
“What happens now, babe?” she asked quietly, not bothering to pull out of Charlie’s grasp as she let the name slip between her lips.
Sam found an odd sense of comfort there, even if she knew in her heart that it wasn’t real.
She needed it to feel real at this moment.
She needed something to be real, something solid beneath her feet.
He gave her a small smile and squeezed her gently. “You continue staying here with me. Simple as that.”
Part of her had hoped that this whole situation would just blow over eventually. That Paul was just a creep who would eventually leave her alone and move on.
Knowing that he had a pattern like this, however, changed things. This wasn’t just a blip.
Paul, or whatever his real name is, was dangerous.
She knew that, she did, but she had almost started to believe that with enough time, this would all just be a distant memory. A story she could laugh about years down the road in a “You remember the time I had a crazy stalker? Yeah, that was wild, right?” kind of way.
She hated having one more thing in her life right now that was out of her control.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Charlie commanded quietly, his voice soft and comforting.
It would be easy to lie right now, knowing Charlie wouldn’t push her, and that in and of itself was a slight comfort.
That right now, she could say anything, and Charlie would still hold her in his arms. He would still be there to help keep the pieces of herself together, even when she didn’t have the strength to.
But it would still be a lie.
“I don’t know what to think,” she replied honestly. “I think I really just wanted this whole thing to be something that would go away quickly. Stupid, huh?”
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t think it’s stupid.”
“Naive, then?”
“Sam, this isn’t exactly a normal situation to be thrown in. Stop beating yourself for not knowing how bad it was going to get,” Charlie stated a little more firmly.
“Well, what are you thinking?” she asked, turning her head to gaze up at him.
A little wrinkle had formed between his eyebrows, where they were furrowed together.
It had been a few days since he’d last shaved, so the stubble along his jaw was thicker than usual.
It tickled her face as she looked up at him.
The dimples she loved so much were tucked away from view as his lips formed a frown.
A complete contrast to the fun, goofy Charlie that she was so familiar with.
Replaced with this serious and worried one.
“I’m thinking,” Charlie said after a few moments, “that I hate that you’re in this situation too. That if I ever get my hands on this guy, I’m gonna beat him senseless.”
Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re too sweet, but you wouldn’t harm a fly, Charlie.”
Something flickered in his eyes, like dark clouds gathering over the ocean just before a violent storm. “For you? I’d make an exception.”
A lump lodged itself in her throat at that, knowing that he genuinely meant that.
It was troublesome for her heart. She could too easily mistake that expression for something that it wasn’t.
This whole dynamic between them right now wasn’t real.
Her stalker situation complicated things considerably, but if Sam didn’t remember the fact that she and Charlie weren’t really dating, that this whole thing between them was fake, she’d break her own heart.
And it would be all her fault.
If she was smart, she’d call this whole thing off between them. At least until after the situation with Paul was dealt with. Right now, however, she didn’t want to be smart. She wanted to continue pretending that this was more than what it was.
Her sense of control was slipping away, and she wasn’t ready to wake from the dream just yet.
Despite the fact that it would likely be a while before sleep even entered her mind, the thought of being completely alone suddenly felt more daunting.
Far too many conflicting thoughts and emotions tried to fight their way to the surface to tell her it was probably a bad idea right now, for her heart, for her to ask this of him, but the overwhelming need for his warmth, to feel safe in his arms, overruled.
“Charlie?” she said softly.
“Hm?”
“Would you… Would you mind if we shared the bed tonight? Say no if you feel like it’ll be too weird, or if that would make you uncomfortable, since this is your place, and I’m just a guest. But I don’t think I want to sleep alone tonight.”
He seemed surprised for a fraction of a second before his lips ticked upward into a warm smile. “Of course.”