Chapter 23
Dillon
She’s here.
I don’t look away, positive that there’s a gas leak somewhere that’s making me delusional. If I look away, she’ll vanish. It’s what’s happened every other time I’ve imagined her back in this apartment. Back with me.
When she starts talking about her mother, I know that it isn’t a delusion, and I might have fucked up again. Charlie made sure that she minimized any kind of contact between me and her mother, even if she has been honest about how she feels about her family.
She’s told me how much it hurts that her mother can never just accept her the way she is, which is why it was such an unforgivable asshole move to throw that all back in her face.
No matter what, I shouldn’t have run my mouth with the nasty old cow, but staying silent was one of the things that had cost me Charlie in the first place.
Running into Agatha felt like a last-ditch opportunity to prove to myself that I wasn’t the same guy who let her daughter down.
To show myself that I have changed. That I won’t just hold my tongue to keep the peace, even if it is with the mother of the woman I still love.
Charlie wasn’t supposed to know about it. Maybe I shouldn’t have told Barrett, but he’s kept firm on his and Charlie’s pact to not talk about me, so I figured it was safe enough.
I don’t blame him. It might have landed him in uncomfortable situations, but he always put her first.
I finish my coffee and turn away, rinsing it in the sink and pretending I’m not just trying to avoid her eyes. “I started going about a week or so after that housewarming.”
“Why?”
One word—an easy question without a simple answer. I’ve played this conversation out in my head so many times, but I never actually dreamed I’d be here, having it…Especially unprepared after Charlie has shown up without any warning.
I can’t fuck this up.
I moisten my lips nervously, telling her honestly, “I had a few home truths laid on me. That was what pushed me to admit how wrong I was, how wrong what I did was, and I wanted to make it right.” I keep my eyes on the sink, flicking off the tap and leaning against the counter.
“I knew there was a chance you wouldn’t forgive me, and I don’t expect you to.
I never want to fall into that trap again.
” I bow my head with a soft exhale, my shoulders knotted with apprehension.
It takes several breaths before I feel steady enough to tell her everything—about my childhood, my parents, the way they still are.
Most of it, she already knows, but not with the narrative of how it has affected me, not through the new perspective the therapist gave me of why I react with silence and anger, with no apparent middle ground.
By the time I’m finished, my voice is gritty as I admit, “Looking back at all, it’s easy to see why I fell into a familiar pattern.
Not that it excuses what I did, because nothing excuses it.
It’s just…” I straighten, looking over and finding her watching me with watery eyes. “It makes sense, you know?”
She doesn’t say a word for a long moment before murmuring, “Guess both our families have a lot to answer for.” She looks away, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Why is everything the same?”
I appreciate the change in subject, even as a soft burst of air escapes me—almost a laugh, but not quite. “Nothing about this place is the same.”
“You know what I mean,” she says, looking toward the door, like she can see through to the rest of the apartment. “It looks the same as it did the day I left. Nothing has changed.”
I lift my hands helplessly. “Except everything changed, and I wanted to hold onto what was left for as long as I could.” I swallow roughly, desperately searching for the right words.
I don’t want her to feel sorry for me, but I need to give her honesty, especially when the last time she was standing in this apartment, I gave her hateful lies and silence.
“Charlie, my feelings for you didn’t go away when you left.
They never will. I can’t just stop myself from being in love with you, even if the best thing for both of us is to be apart.
I couldn’t stand the idea of erasing you from my life so completely that I didn’t have at least one place that still felt like home. ”
“Home,” she echoes in a whisper. Her green eyes are overly bright, and her lashes flutter shut, hiding them from me. “This stopped being home when it stopped feeling safe.”
My sharp inhale whistles through my teeth, that hit slicing through me. I don’t react, though. I let the pain sink into my flesh, bubbling through my veins until it’s all I can feel, and then…
Then I let it go.
“That’s fair,” I murmur softly, “and valid. I know you said you and Alec aren’t a thing anymore, but I hope he at least made you feel safe.” The words taste like the worst kind of poison on my tongue, but they’re also true. I want Charlie to know her worth and that she deserves the world.
“He did.” The words are almost inaudible, reluctant. It feels as if she’s forcing them out, aware of how much it hurts me and hating it. That’s always been the difference between us—even when Charlie is feeling her worst, she never deliberately tries to hurt me.
“Have you…?” She trails off, fidgeting with her coffee mug. It takes a few seconds, but the dots finally connect. I clear my throat.
“Have I dated anyone else?” I clarify, and she gives me a jerky nod.
“It’s just… I know it’s been six months, but you didn’t mention anything last week when I was talking about Alec. It would be fine if you were,” she quickly adds. “I was just wondering…” She trails off again, grimacing awkwardly.
“There’s no one else, Angel,” I say softly, and her eyes dart up to mine at the pet name.
I give her a self-deprecating smile. “I focused on work and getting myself back into a good mental headspace. There wasn’t room for anything more than that.
I also wasn’t ready for there to be anyone else.
Not when my feelings were still firmly tied up in one person. ”
“Dillon—”
I’m terrified she’s about to say something I don’t think I’m ready to hear, so I quickly cut in. “I’m not asking for anything right now, okay? I just…I don’t want to lie to you. About anything. Even if it’s just me holding my silence, because I’ve learned that’s just as bad.”
Charlie lets out the softest sigh, her eyes filled with tears, making them more luminous than usual. She locks her eyes with mine, her chin trembling. “I’m learning that, too.”
I take a step toward her. “What do you mean?”
“Alec—” She stops, catching the wince I don’t quite manage to hide. Charlie sends me an apologetic look before carrying on. “He was just a friend, especially at first. There was this feeling of potential between us, that maybe something could grow.”
I feel like I’m swallowing boulders, and I barely refrain from slapping my hands over my ears like a child trying to hide. “I’m glad you had someone like that,” I mumble through numb lips. “You deserve the world, Angel.”
“I’m not finished,” she tells me firmly. “It ended between us because those feelings didn’t grow. I realized that I didn’t want them to grow.”
My heartbeat whooshes noisily in my ears, my vision going hazy. I’m afraid to ask the question, and she sees it in my wide eyes, giving me a gentle look.
“You were still here, Dillon,” she says quietly, tapping a hand to her chest. “I tried to shut you out. I tried to turn off my feelings, believing there was truly no path forward for us. Even now, there’s a part of me that’s screaming I shouldn’t be here, but…
” She’s the one who takes a step closer this time, only leaving a couple feet between us.
“You’re not the same person you were six months ago. ”
“You’re not either,” I whisper.
She takes another step—close enough that I could reach out and touch her. My fingers shake with the urge. I clench them into fists, taking everything on her terms.
“I walked out on my mother last night.”
I blink rapidly, surprise dampening everything else for a second. “You did?” I rasp out. “She must’ve seriously lost it to drive you to that point.”
Charlie holds her hand out, jiggling it from side to side. “Maybe. Or maybe it was me who finally just had enough.” There’s a pause, her eyes thoughtful, never shifting from mine. “Barrett said something to me just before we walked into the house.”
I don’t say a word, not wanting to interrupt—not wanting to derail wherever this conversation may be heading.
I don’t care if it ends with her telling me she never wants to see me again, not when, right now, she’s here, close enough for me to smell orange blossoms and vanilla.
I send up a prayer of thanks that she hasn’t changed her favorite scent in the time we’ve been apart, because I never want to forget it.
It’s been so long, and I drag it into my lungs like I’ve been buried alive and starved of oxygen.
“Barrett was asking me why I was back there after months of avoiding that house,” she says, seemingly unaware of where my mind has drifted. “He told me that I deserve to have people in my life who put me first, and he said, ‘I thought you’d learned that lesson with Dillon.’”
“He’s right,” I murmur when she goes quiet. “Despite everything else that happened, I was proud of you for walking away when you did, Charlie. It took me a while to get there, but the kind of quiet strength you have? Most people only dream of it.”
“There’s strength in learning, too, right?” she asks confidently. But underneath, there’s a tone of uncertainty, like she’s not completely sure she’s asking the right thing. “There’s strength in learning from your mistakes.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking about her, me, or both of us, so I just nod.
“I was scared that people would think I was weak for still wanting you,” she whispers it like a confession. “I’ve been weak to my mother for my entire life, never standing up to her, never cutting her out. What would people think if I did the same thing with you?”
I clench my jaw shut, refusing to let the pleas on my tongue slip out.
“There is one difference, though,” she continues. “One of those people is never going to change. And the other? It seems like he already has.”