Chapter Eleven #2
“You went right up to the bullies and put yourself between them and the boy. Then you proceeded to yell at them. You gave them shit for how they treated him, and then you called them out on all the things that were wrong with them. Thumb-sucker, bed-wetter, couldn’t read, couldn’t throw a ball, whatever you thought of.
You made one of them cry, but they all walked away and left the boy alone after that. ”
She recalled that day vividly as he spoke, each word out of his mouth describing exactly what happened.
Except for one thing he did not mention.
Before that day, she had been well-liked by her classmates.
She’d been invited to play dates and birthday parties.
One little boy even asked her to be his girlfriend, a request that had her scrunching up her nose in disgust and telling the boy she would never have a boyfriend because boys were gross.
After that day, after she did the right thing as her parents taught her to do, she was no longer popular at school.
The other kids ignored her. They didn’t tease the boy anymore, but neither did they want anything to do with her.
The invitations stopped coming. She went from being a favorite in her class to being a nobody.
She'd forgotten about that time of her life. Her family had moved a year later, and her parents had died a short time after that. She was placed in a foster home that was adequate at best. Her foster parents provided the essentials and stayed on her to get good grades and be well-behaved. But once she turned eighteen, they told her she had to move out on her own, so they’d have room to take in another foster child.
Then, with the turn her life had taken the last few years, memories of that little boy had disappeared into the deep recesses of her mind.
“I’m not sure how you can possibly know any of that.”
She was freaking out. He was smiling serenely, his dark eyes turning into warm, molten chocolate.
“Because the little boy’s name was Ben. And yours was Paige.”
Her jaw dropped, and her head flew up to cover her open mouth. She backed up until her legs bumped against the sofa, and she fell to the cushions. Craning her neck, she stared up at the handsome man, searching for signs of the boy she once knew.
When no one else in her class wanted to be her friend, the little boy had been.
He was quiet unless he was with her. His stutter made his words hard to understand, but when he was with her, his stutter wasn’t so bad.
He made her laugh. He taught her to fish.
She taught him to play Go Fish and climb a tree.
Her heart had broken when she left him behind, and she mourned the loss of their friendship for months after her family moved. But that had been more than two decades ago. Could it be that fate brought that same boy to her doorstep at a time when it was too dangerous for her to admit who she was?
“I’m not—”
Charlotte jerked when Ben’s cell phone rang. He swore vehemently as he pulled it out of his pocket. One glance at the screen, and he silenced it. Kneeling beside her, he lightly took her hand in his. His touch was electric, and she almost pulled away. Then his phone rang again.
“Ignore it,” he commanded impatiently, but she shook her head.
“You should answer it. I’m not the girl you’re thinking of.”
“You are. Paige, I recognize you from the picture.”
She shook her head even harder. “No. My name is Charlotte. Please, Ben. Let this go. Answer your phone.”
The ringing stopped only to begin again immediately. Ben swore again and pushed to his feet. He stepped into the kitchen to answer the call. She barely registered his side of the conversation as the weight of what just happened sank in.
He knew who she was. Her very survival hinged on being anonymous, invisible.
Only Wally and Mona knew the truth, or at least part of it.
They were the only ones who could know. The more people she told, the more she risked her safety.
She’d given up everything just to stay alive, and one chance encounter with a man she’d only known for a short time as a boy might ruin everything.
“I can’t...No, it’s not...what...what do you mean...are you shitting me...”
Ben’s voice continued to rise, and she couldn’t tell if he was angry or shocked or frustrated.
It didn’t matter. She needed him to go, and if whatever the caller was telling him helped to make that happen, then it didn’t matter what was going on.
She needed to be alone to think about what her next move should be.
“Now? But...”
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at him. He paced the small space behind the counter, his hand running through his hair. Finally, he mumbled something she didn’t understand and ended the call. When he turned his stare on her, she saw he was conflicted.
“Paige—”
“Charlotte,” she insisted. “My name is Charlotte Redding. I’m not that little girl. I’m a housekeeper at a small-town motel, and that’s all you need to know about me.”
Anger flickered in his eyes, and she braced herself in case he took that out on her. Instead, he stomped toward the door, threw it open, and gave her one last look.
“I have to go, but we’re not done. I know exactly who you are, and if you think I’m going to walk away without knowing why you’re hiding and afraid, you’re damn wrong.”
The door slammed closed behind him, and Charlotte allowed the tears to fall until sobs overtook her.