Chapter 4 #2
I open my mouth to tell him I am—which is a complete lie—but then my attention catches on Alec, his dark eyes fixed on me from between the seats. “Oh. Hey, Alec,” I greet weakly. “I’m sorry for interrupting your night.”
I don’t know Barrett’s boss well, having only run into him a few times. He’s older than us by about fifteen years, but he’s ridiculously hot, with close-cropped black hair and swirls of ink running down his arms.
“No sweat. I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I was ready to call it anyway.” He runs a hand over the dark shadow covering his jaw. “Hope you don’t mind dropping me off first.” His eyes seem almost black in the dim interior of the truck, concern flashing across them as he watches me.
“I don’t mind,” I say, ignoring the way the words catch in my throat. I flick a look between the two of them. “It’s just a bad night.” My smile is wavering, and neither Barrett nor Alec looks convinced, but they don’t press for more details.
I turn my focus out the window, the drive passing by in a blur of lights and shadows. Barrett pulls up outside Alec’s building, and they talk quietly to each other before Alec looks at me.
“Hope your night improves, Charlie,” he says, his voice almost gentle. The kindness is enough to have tears springing to my eyes. I blink rapidly, refusing to let them fall. He doesn’t give me a chance, giving one last nod, and then he’s gone, the door shutting behind him.
“Alright, Charlie Girl,” Barrett says once Alec has gone inside his building. “Give me the lowdown.”
I don’t bother moving to the front seat.
I can’t look him in the eye as I recap everything that happened tonight—everything I heard.
By the time we walk through the door to his studio apartment, Barrett is breathing as heavily as a bull about to charge.
His nostrils are flared wide, and his face a concerning shade of tomato.
I watch with a mixture of amusement and wariness, wondering if I should put his breakables away before he starts pawing at the ground.
At least my dress is purple.
But that thought has their laughter filling my ears, my chest tightening as renewed anguish steals my breath.
“I swear to God,” Barrett rumbles as he haphazardly kicks off his shoes. He throws his jacket over the back of the couch before heading to the small kitchen, emptying his pockets in a pile on the counter. I watch him, resisting the urge to straighten up after him.
This isn’t my place, and Barrett’s mess is not my problem.
I have enough problems, and I refuse to take on any more.
“When I see that fuck-knuckle, I’m gonna punch him square in the face.”
“Fuck-knuckle,” I repeat in a whisper, a speck of amusement trying to creep in past everything else.
Barrett catches the sound, turning a fierce glower on me.
“I’m serious, Charlie Girl. What happened tonight is so beyond not okay, it’s not fucking funny.
You get that, right? And don’t try to tell me it’s just the assholes he hangs with.
” He closes the space between us in three steps, his bear paws landing on my shoulders and pinning me in place.
He even bends his knees, practically shoving his nose against mine just so he can catch my eyes with his.
“What Dillon did? The way he sat there and said nothing? Laughing with them? It’s worse than anything they could’ve said. ”
I swallow. “I know.” I hate how weak my voice is, how hurt, but I’m not lying. There’s no sugarcoating this for myself, no dressing it up in a pretty bow and convincing myself it doesn’t matter.
There’s no world where I go back to Dillon, pretending this didn’t happen. I’ve spent years conforming, making myself as small as possible, as if hiding in the shadows of the world around me made me safer from the harsh words of those who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
Dillon became a space of safety for me—one where I was free to be myself. I could just be with him, knowing he wouldn’t hurt me.
That belief was destroyed tonight. Now, I am left with shredded self-esteem, every single ounce of confidence I have gained since meeting him butchered into oblivion.
“Do you?” Barrett demands, one brow flicking up doubtfully. “If he was acting like that while you were just in the bathroom, imagine all the times you weren’t there. This wasn’t the first time. And the shit that bitch was saying about Dillon and the other girl? Marley?”
“Marisa.”
“Who cares? If he had feelings for someone else and never told you, but then continued to spend time with her…that’s not okay.
” Barrett’s breathing hard, like he’s just gone for a two-mile sprint.
“He’s been crossing boundaries since the start.
Relationships are supposed to be based on honesty, respect, and communication.
Right? And it doesn’t seem like Dillon’s ever given that to you.
” His eyes never leave mine, blazing with a mix of outrage and sincerity.
“Oh, because you’re such an expert?” I snark defensively, wriggling out from under his hands. The truth is weighing on my shoulders, but hearing it from his mouth makes it all harder to swallow.
Barrett shuts down, his expression going blank. “Whatever,” he mumbles, turning and heading across the apartment. “Take my advice or don’t.”
Regret gnaws at me as I follow, watching as he goes to the fridge, pulls out orange juice, and fills two glasses. I lean against the counter just as he slides one over to me—looking after me even when I’ve hurt him.
“I’m sorry, Barry,” I say, ignoring the glare he tosses my way at the nickname. “I shouldn’t have snapped.”
Barrett mimics my pose, leaning his hip against the counter and facing me. “You should turn your phone off. Don’t message him or anything. Let him stew.”
I let out a light laugh, wishing I could. “I left,” I remind him quietly, looking away. “All he knows is that I went to the bathroom and never came back. I can’t just…” I shake my head. “I need to tell him I’m okay, at least.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch his dark scowl. “It’s more than he deserves.”
I swipe my tongue over my top teeth. “And if he calls the cops?”
Barrett scoffs. “You have twenty-fours hours before they’d give a shit,” he argues. “And considering how long you were gone for, and Dickface McGee never even thought to go looking for you, who cares if he worries now?”
I shrug lightly, sipping my drink. “That’s not me. I’m not that person, and you know it.”
“So…?” Barrett trails off pointedly, frowning when I throw him an unsure look. “What’re you gonna do, Charlie? Don’t tell me you don’t know your next step. You plan every single move out in the finest detail, so I know your brain’s been working overtime since I picked you up.”
I inhale deeply through my nose, blowing it out on a heavy sigh. My eyes lock on the glass clasped between my fingers, condensation already beading on the side. Barrett doesn’t rush me, a steady presence at my side, knowing better than most how I process things.
“I guess…” I start slowly. “I guess I’ll text him. Tell him I’m here with you, and that I need space.”
“And then?” Barrett asks, with only a slight edge of impatience. “What happens after that, Charlie Girl?”
I clamp my eyes shut when they start stinging, my heart a giant bruise. I know what my next action needs to be, but to speak it out into existence makes it real.
“And then I move out,” I whisper brokenly.
Barrett doesn’t try to talk me out of it, just nodding as he finishes the rest of his juice, sympathetic eyes watching me as I struggle to remember how to breathe.
We call it a night not long after that, taking turns to clean up in the bathroom.
Barrett gives me a shirt to wear. Luckily, he’s big enough that it doesn’t cling to my body and falls almost to my knees.
I use a dab of toothpaste on my finger to brush my teeth, hating that I don’t have any of my things to take off my makeup and clean my face.
When I come back out, he tries to tell me he’ll take the couch, but the image of him squeezing his six-and-half-foot frame onto the couch is almost enough to make me smile.
So, I refuse, telling him I will be fine, insisting he keep his bed.
But I lied.
I’m not fine.
An hour later, I’ve decided this is the worst couch in the history of couches.
There’s no less than three springs digging into my back, ass, and thigh.
The cushion under me slips a little further every time I move, threatening to slide me right onto the floor.
I’ve been telling Barrett to replace this thing for years.
Now, after not sleeping on it, I decide I’m buying him a new one myself.
Lying in the dark, listening to him rumble away like a lawn mower, I pull out my phone, the bright glare making me squint.
Six missed calls.
Nine new messages.
My phone was noticeably silent on the ride here, so these all came in the last hour.
It’s a little impressive, but the ice encasing me doesn’t melt even a little.
There’s some voicemails, but I ignore them, not ready to hear his voice.
Instead, I click into my message thread with him, my finger shaking as I scroll up to the first message, reading them in order.
Dillon:
Where are you?
Dillon:
Hey baby, you okay?
Dillon:
Angel, it’s been ages. I’m gonna send Amber in to check on you, k?
Dillon:
Amber said the bathroom’s empty. Where are you??
Dillon:
I’m getting seriously worried. Answer the phone.
Dillon:
Charlie??
Dillon:
Did you seriously just leave without saying anything. Jesus, Charlie. Everyone’s asking where you went.
Dillon:
This is fucked. I don’t know whether to be furious or terrified. Where are you? Did you go home?
Dillon:
CALL ME!
I read through them all twice, and then again.
His words scrawl through my mind like a slow-creeping burn.
Dillon’s always been good at saying all the right words, and yet…
as soon as he dropped the “everyone’s asking”, it felt like it was a show.
He’s more worried about what his friends are thinking than about me actually leaving.
He didn’t seem all that concerned while they sat there, basically crucifying my body, my personality… me.
Across the room, Barrett snuffles quietly. I pause, waiting to see if he’ll wake up, knowing if he sees the messages, it’s only going to piss him off even more. After a few moments pass, I focus on my phone, eyes blurry as I tap out a message.
Charlie:
I’m fine. At Barrett’s. I’ll talk to you in the morning.
It’s marked as read immediately, and I’m not surprised when he starts calling, making me glad I had the forethought to put my phone on silent.
I let it ring out, and another call lights up the screen straight after.
My fingers are frozen, watching as the bubbles pop to indicate that he’s typing a message.
Dillon:
Are you being serious? I’ve been going out of my fucking mind and you’re with Barrett?! What the actual fuck, Charlie. I thought something really bad happened to you.
Something bad did happen to me. But I’m not ready to have this conversation.
Not yet.
Not tonight.
Not when their laughter still echoes through my head, their words on a constant replay, only competing with the heavy silence as he said nothing.
Dillon:
I don’t know what’s going on with you. This isn’t okay, Charlie.
Charlie:
I’ll talk to you in the morning
I power off my phone before he can respond, knowing myself enough to realize I won’t have the willpower to stop myself from constantly checking it, or giving in if he pushes me enough.
If I’m not careful, he’ll draw me into a fight, here and now, and there’s no point.
We won’t solve anything. Not when I’m still so emotional.
As soon as we get into it, Dillon will go on the defensive. I can already see it now, the way he’ll tell me I’m overreacting, and that it was all just a joke. One of his flaws is never being able to take accountability for his own actions.
Sorry isn’t a word I’ve heard often over the course of our relationship, and I don’t expect to hear it now.
It didn’t bother me so much before because it was never anything big.
It was stuff like not loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher when he was done with them, or forgetting to get the milk I asked for on the way home.
This conversation will be different, and I need to approach it calmly. Rationally.
I can’t let Dillon wriggle his way out of it. I can’t let him justify what happened because there is no justification for speaking about anyone so horribly and cruelly.
The person who loved me should have put an immediate stop to it. Actions speak louder than words, and Dillon’s actions were screaming tonight.