Chapter 25
Dillon
Istep inside without knocking, my nose immediately twitching…Same as it always does when I come over. Charlie squeezes her fingers around mine as I tug her over the threshold, shaking my head when she sneezes.
“Lavender,” I grouse. “I hate lavender.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but the effect is ruined when she wipes her wrist over her nose.
It’s been three weeks since the day she impulsively came over, and I’ve thrown up my thanks for every second that’s ticked by since.
I never intended for Charlie to find out about my confrontation with her mother—I didn’t want her to be indebted to me for doing something that any good person should’ve done.
For doing something I should’ve done a long time ago—with her mother and with Bliss and the others.
We’re not where we were, and we probably won’t ever be. That’s not such a bad thing. We’re more aware of each other now, about the damage we’re carrying around on our shoulders.
Two weeks ago, Charlie went to see a therapist that Sandra recommended to her. She’s been twice now, and those days are hard. I wait out in the reception, watching as she walks out, dragging her heels like shadows are clinging to her and weighing her down.
It’s not an easy fix, trying to mend years of hurt, but Charlie doesn’t hide it from me, letting me see into the darkness so I can help guide her out. And if I have bad days, she does the same for me.
There’s no more hiding, no more silence.
Her mother still hasn’t spoken to her since that dinner after she walked out. Kayla said the bitch was waiting for Charlie to come begging for forgiveness.
Those weren’t Kayla’s exact words, but it translated.
It’s not a surprise that Agatha won’t even consider that her daughter hasn’t done a fucking thing wrong. I’m so goddamn proud of Charlie for sticking to her guns. I know it still hurts her, thinking about how she’s lost her family. Kayla is still talking to her, but no one else is.
That’s one of the reasons I’ve brought her here today; to remind her that she might’ve lost her blood family, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one.
“That you, Dillon?” Gran calls out, and I look over my shoulder, catching Charlie’s eager smile.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Good. I’ve just put the kettle on. We’ll have our tea on the back porch.”
I don’t bother to stifle my groan. “One day,” I yell, “you’re gonna have a nice cold beer waiting for me, and I’ll pass out from the shock.”
“Well, today is not that day!”
Outside, the afternoon is shining down on the backyard, and I sit down on the wooden porch swing, tucking Charlie in next to me.
“You should’ve told her I was here,” she admonishes. “She’s only going to make two teas.” There’s a gleam in her eyes that tells me she’s already onto my game. I flick up a brow, staring at her unrepentantly.
“Pretty sure I did that on purpose.”
Charlie shakes her head at me, her smile amused as she leans in to give me a peck on the lips. Just then, the door opens, and Gran comes out, her attention down and on her tray. The ceramic cups rattle as she takes careful steps toward the garden table.
“So, why do I get a surprise visit today? Lately, trying to get you around here is like trying to pry out one of my wisdom teeth with a pair of rusty pliers.”
“Well, isn’t that a lovely visual,” I say dryly. “It hasn’t been that long since I was last here.”
Gran makes it to the table, setting the tray down and looking up, her eyes widening as she catches sight of Charlie. “Oh!”
She escapes my hold, standing up and wrapping her arms around Gran. “It’s so good to see you, Libby.”
“Charlie,” she whispers, hugging her back. She pulls away, twinkling eyes bouncing between us. “Are you two…?”
My girl lifts a shoulder, eyeing me teasingly. “We’re working some things out.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my grandmother shed a tear, even when my grandad passed away eight years ago.
But her eyes water, her shaky hands squeezing Charlie’s.
“I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.
” She pauses, her white eyebrows dipping together as something occurs to her. “I only made two teas. Let me go—”
“Charlie can have mine,” I cut in over her, tone urgent. “Please, for the love of Satan, don’t make me a tea.”
Gran purses her lips together sourly. “Don’t know where your mother went wrong with you.” There’s a pause. “Well, that’s an outright lie, but you’re my only grandchild, so I’ll pretend I don’t know.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say sarcastically, pressing a hand to my chest. “I’m feeling all sorts of love.”
Charlie’s grinning. “I’ve missed this,” she declares, and my grandmother’s expression softens.
“Well, don’t you go missing again, girlie,” she orders. “We missed you around here, too.” Gran pats Charlie’s hand before turning away, ordering, “Drink your tea up. It’s just Earl Grey today.” The look she shoots me is pure triumph.
I glare at her, mumbling, “The one day she makes the normal stuff.”
Charlie comes to sit next to me, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders, careful not to knock her mug. I kick my toes against the porch, gently swinging us, sighing when she leans into me, contentment washing through my body.
Gran takes her seat at the metal table, her eyes fixed on us. “So, tell me. How did this happen?” She flicks a hard look in my direction. “I’d lost all hope that you’d ever be able to make things right.”
“I think I’m offended,” I say, while Charlie throws me a wicked smile.
“He bitched out my mother,” she announces dramatically, and I throw my head back with a groan.
“Seriously? Is that what we’re telling people?”
Gran looks startled, but her face fills with humor. “Well, I might not have expected that, but I can’t say I’m too surprised,” she murmurs. “And I don’t believe for even half a second that the witch didn’t deserve it.”
Charlie shared a little of her story with my grandmother when we were together before, and Gran had made no bones about how she felt about a woman she’d never actually met. Subtlety had never really been her style, and I don’t imagine it was one she ever wanted to try.
I also have no doubt that if I were to ever fuck up again, it wouldn’t be my side that my gran took. And I don’t blame her for it at all.
I’d choose Charlie, too, if it were between me and her. I’d choose her over anyone, and I am going to make sure she believes that from here on out.
She and Gran get sucked into a conversation about new books that Charlie’s recently started stocking at Spellbound Books, and they leave me out of it, which I appreciate. During a brief lull, Gran turns to me, her mouth flattened into a line.
“How was your father’s birthday last weekend?” I can’t stop the grimace that twists my lips, and she nods, like that’s exactly what she’d expected. “I haven’t seen Liz since last week, and I figured that was why.”
I pull Charlie in a little tighter, letting the scent of her shampoo soothe me. “I went on my own,” I tell Gran. “Charlie’s been exposed to enough familial bullshit to last a lifetime. Afterward, I told Mom I wasn’t going to come back around for a while.”
That shocks Gran, her mouth parting into an O.
“Well, then,” she murmurs, looking out into the garden, her mouth tugging down. “This isn’t what I wished for my daughter, you know? She’s the only one who can help herself.”
A pensive silence settles over us until I ask quietly, “Why do you think she stays with him, Gran? You’ve tried to talk to her, and I even suggested counseling. She outright refused.”
My grandmother doesn’t say anything for such a long time that I don’t think she’ll answer. Charlie tangles her fingers with mine, stroking her thumb over my hand in a soothing gesture.
Gran finally lets out a heavy sigh. “My Liz has convinced herself that Gavin is what she deserves. Some of it has to do with things that happened when she was younger, before she ever met him. The rest…” She doesn’t look in our direction, but I can still see the sheen in her eyes, the lines stretching out from the corners deeply etched into her skin.
“Years of being convinced that she’s earned what he dishes out, I suppose.
Brainwashed and blinded by a toxic poison she thinks is love. ”
Charlie makes a small, sad sound, and Gran turns to look at her.
“I’m proud of you,” she declares suddenly, eyes on my girl.
“Standing up for yourself, walking out when the whole world was telling you that you’re less…
It takes real strength. Coming back and forgiving him for being a total jackass?
” Gran points at me. “That takes even more.”
I cough out a laugh. “Hey!” I don’t deny it, because there’s nothing wrong about what she’s saying.
“I don’t know that I’m strong,” Charlie murmurs, looking down at where her hand is resting in mine. “I spent over two decades letting one person beat me down.”
“There’s strength in walking away when someone is cruel to us,” Gran says. “I think there might be more strength in walking away when you’ve been beaten down so much that you can’t see any way out.” I hear the thread of hope in her words, and it hurts.
“You think Mom will make that choice one day?” I ask quietly.
Gran looks at me then, her smile lopsided. “I don’t know, Dillon. But seeing you two, here today? Knowing that you’re fixing your mistakes and taking measures to ensure it won’t happen again? That gives me hope.”
That night, Barrett and I are sitting on his couch, beers in our hands and an NHL game on the television. Charlie’s cooking something in the kitchen that smells like spicy heaven.
Barrett tips his beer to his lips, attention on the screen as he tells me, “Thinking of doing another Battlefield night next weekend. You in?”
I slouch down, tapping my fingers against my thigh. “I’ll check with Charlie first, see if she’s got plans. Pretty sure it’s all good, though.”
I see him nod out of the corner of my eye. “I already invited Alec.”