Chapter 29 #2
“My dad had moved out. My older brother was in jail. And I couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving River alone, so vulnerable, with someone so mentally unwell who refused to help him or herself. As soon as he told me it wasn’t an accident, I knew I had to stay.”
I pin my gaze to the rug, too nervous to gauge his reaction to any of this.
“When you asked me what was going on, I—I panicked. I’d tried so hard to keep it all from you, what my family was like. It was easier to deflect. To make it seem like I was pissed at you—needed some time away. I wasn’t ready to answer all your questions.”
“You thought I didn’t know?” he asks quietly, stopping me in my tracks. “You thought I didn’t pick up on how you never wanted to talk about your family? Never said I should meet them? Winnie, I always knew. But I trusted that you’d tell me when you felt ready.”
It knocks the wind from me. He knew?
“I didn’t want to be that girl anymore,” I choke out.
“I still loved her. Even if you didn’t.”
His admission rings true—deep in my soul. Like a part of me always knew, even if I denied it. Maybe the problem was never if Charlie could love that side of me, but if I could.
“So . . . you left me because you didn’t trust that you could tell me what was going on?” he asks, hurt tugging at each word.
I shake my head, wipe my sniffly nose, and keep tearing across the floor. “No. It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I did—I do. I was trying to protect you.”
“From what, Win?” His shoulders sag with exasperation. “I’m trying to understand here.”
“I—I’m not good at this. Sometimes it feels like my throat’s closing up or a car’s sitting on my chest, and everything in me shuts down, and I can’t find the right words to open up even if I want to. But, dammit, you’ve always felt worth trying for.”
“So just tell—”
“I took custody of River,” I blurt. “I mean, not legally. But he’s been living with me for the past two years.
Somehow, I convinced my mom. She’s been surprisingly cooperative, for the most part.
She signs what I send her. We visit on some weekends.
River talks to her on the phone. I send her a monthly check. And it—”
“Hey,” Charlie soothes. I still, eyes closing as my chest heaves. “Take a deep breath. I’m right here. I’m listening. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
He’s quiet. Waiting for my response.
I nod.
“So River lives with you,” he says.
“Yes.”
“And . . . that’s what you were protecting me from?” he asks, confused.
I mash my fingers to my temples. I’m terrible at this: talking.
“I’m stubborn, Charlie—”
“I know.”
His well-timed gentle tease coaxes a smile from me, loosening some of the tension pinching between my shoulder blades. “When I made up my mind to get River out of there, there was nothing in this world that would’ve changed it.”
Swallowing, I finally turn to face him head on—his tangled hair, his blood-stained clothes, his stitched-up forehead. So torn apart and shredded. As mangled as I felt when I made the choice I thought was right two years ago.
“You’d just finished grad school,” I whisper, hands wringing in front of me.
“You didn’t want kids yet, none the less an entire teenager to raise.
A kid you’d never even met. You were just starting your career.
I couldn’t let her come after you for money.
You had everything ahead of you, Charlie.
And I didn’t want you to give any of it up for me. ”
His chest rises and falls three times before he speaks, low and gritty. “You think that was your decision to make for me?”
My brows pitch and I falter, terrified I’m screwing this up. “I . . . it was—”
“You don’t get to decide what I’m willing to put up with.
” Charlie stands and my heart leaps into my throat, moisture beading on my lashes as he moves to me.
He looks down at me beneath heavy lids. “You don’t get to tell me that my wife’s life is too much for me to take on.
” He takes my hand and a single tear slips down my face.
“I know you thought you were looking out for me, but, sweetheart, I promise you I’m capable of doing that on my own. ”
Under his tender, ferocious gaze, I crumble. I bury my tear-stained face against his chest and he holds me tight, stroking my matted mess of hair.
“When I married you,” he says, voice rough, “I married all of you. Not just what you deemed worthy of sharing. Not just the easy parts. I want your mess too, Winnie. Give me all the hard parts.” A ragged laugh breaks in his throat. “You know I like a challenge.”
I cry harder as his words turn me inside out, filling me so much I spill.
It’s raw and it’s real and it’s exactly what I crave, but the grief devouring me over all the years I never felt love like this still struggles to believe it.
“But I’ve been so selfish, so stupid—you’ve always been too good for me. ”
“Not even close. And get me off that damn pedestal because I don’t want to be there if it means you won’t be standing next to me.”
My lip trembles. “So you’re still in this with me?”
His smile stretches wide as he blinks back tears of his own and he brushes mine away with his thumb. “We have a lot of shit to work through, Winnie. But I’m not giving up the fight if you’re not.”
He cups my face.
And then my husband kisses me.