by Felicia Lynn
I barely even hear the sound of the driver’s side door opening and closing, but I know he’s now beside me, and I can’t look at him now. I’ll never be able to explain or justify the drastic change in my mood. But more importantly, I’ll never be able to explain why I can’t see him again. She’ll never allow me to be happy. She’ll never accept my need to live my own life because, after all, I was born to serve a purpose and it wasn’t to find my own life’s purpose.
I feel his gentle touch as he places his hand on my leg to attempt to comfort me, and I don’t acknowledge it or even look in his direction. I can’t. I’m doing everything I can to hold it together right now. It’s hard enough to restrain the tears threatening to fall without having to see his reaction when I tell him what needs to be said. My whole life I’ve been trained to bury my feelings and I’ve excelled at the task. This is different. Tonight, I experienced living in a way I’ve only dreamed about. The small taste of freedom will never be enough. The memories alone of it won’t be enough to carry me. The persona of the daughter of the future presidential hopeful will never be enough for the real me. The real me hates the acting. The real me hates the lies. The real me hates the daughter of the future presidential hopeful and everything she represents.
Every extra second feeling the undeserved gentleness of his touch on my leg makes it all the more painful. The burns of unshed tears build rapidly moving them closer to the surface as I attempt to swallow the lump permanently attached to my throat and preventing me from speaking—from pleading with him to remove his hand. The Charlie he knows doesn’t deserve his kindness because she’s a coward.
“Charlie. Buttercup? What’s wrong?” His voice, edged with panic, fills the closed space around us. I feel like it may suffocate me, but I can’t move. I won’t take my eyes off the screen. I need the strength from my mother’s hateful words to force me to do what needs to be done.
I can’t put my phone away, and I can’t hold on to the emotions anymore. I finally have something to lose, and I’m only seconds from losing it. The memories of tonight will forever be tainted, and the resentment I feel will grow. I’m angry and hurt, but it has nothing to do with her words—it’s what she’s taking from me.
Digging deep, I pull strength from my mother’s hatred and finally drop the phone into my lap as if it were on fire. I sink further into the seat turning my head toward the window just as a lone tear escapes. I don’t have the strength to try to disguise it. I hate myself a little more for not being able to hold it in until I am away from the eyes of others. I work hard not to show this weakness. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want him to see this side of me.
“Please … just take me home,” I plead.
Moving quickly, he snatches the phone from my lap before I can stop him. I watch in horror knowing he sees my biggest flaws in that message. He looks from me to my phone, then back and forth numerous times. The worry that he showed moments ago is now long gone. There’s no mistaking the anger radiating through every part of him.
The phone flies to the floorboard at my feet. Like a Tasmanian devil, my seat belt is yanked off, and I’m pulled across the bench seat and hoisted into his lap to straddle him. He presses my face into his chest roughly, but the softness of his whispers breaks me. I’m done. The lone tear has found friends, and together, they trail from eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I cry into his chest as my body shudders in his arms.
“Shhh … it’ll be okay. Please, calm down. I’ll make this better, babe,” he tells me softly into my hair-covered ear.
“I’m so sorry, Charlie. It’s killing me. Tell me what’s happened so I can help fix this. Why would your mother send that ...” He pauses, and I feel his body tense up as he pushes me off his chest so that he can look at me before finishing. “... that fucking garbage to her kid?”
It takes several minutes before I’m able to gain some control over myself, but through it all, he never stops comforting me by pulling me to his chest, rubbing my back, and trying to look in my eyes. He cares more than he should, and I don’t understand that. My heart is shattering, and I ache to go back to before this. I want to rewind and experience it all again so I can be the girl full of life for him and not the mess that I really am.
I can’t even locate the part of my heart that was earlier flooded with happiness. The world that he opened for me is unforgettable, but it’s gone.
My mind flashes a memory of him looking at me with his trademark side-smile and wink leaving the recognizable feeling of emptiness and defeat. She’s won. She’ll always win, and I mentally slap myself for feeling as if I had the upper hand earlier. I know better than to taunt her, and I did it anyway. She’s more dangerous than the strongest storm when she’s angry, and she’ll have no regrets about the destruction she brings to get what she wants.
He’s been nothing short of exceptional to me, and I can’t pull him into her wrath. Dreaming about a future with him was far-fetched and only wasted my energy. I can see that now that I’ve been forced back to reality. I should have been dreaming that my mother would release her claws long enough to allow space for me to live my own dreams, but what a joke that is.
I push myself off his body, and he loosens his tight grip on me as I lean back and try to wipe away the evidence of my breakdown. His eyes show the battle he’s fighting with his own emotions between fury and concern. He brings his hands up to my cheeks helping to wipe away the wetness.
He doesn’t need to plead for an explanation anymore. I can easily see the lingering questions in his eyes and feel it in his touch.
I sigh, folding my cheek into his hand. “I’m sorry,” I begin my confession. “You already knew that my mother was upset about the party last night. I told you that this morning.” I pause as his arms relax and move from my cheeks to rest on my shoulders. “She also knows about the motorcycle ride, and that didn’t go over well either. I responded to her earlier messages being respectful but strong. I tried forcing her hand at allowing my independence. She hasn’t responded all day, until now. Until she saw my posts on Instagram.”
I wait for it all to sink in. I look for signs of him understanding what occurred to allow me to break the news that we’ll never work, and she’ll never allow this, but they never come.
His tone sends a quiver through me that’s chilling. His anger hasn’t dissipated. “I know what was said. I read the texts, Charlotte. My question still remains …” He lingers a bit, and I see a glimpse of pity. “Why? Why would any mother speak such hatred to her daughter … a daughter like you, who’s fucking incredible? Why would she threaten you? Please explain this to me before I explode.”
Pity. I saw it hidden behind the anger, and I know that I somehow need to cover the tracks of this train wreck I’ve caused. This situation and my resistance to her demands have sent my mother into a tailspin. So I tell him what he needs to know to understand. “I am a Baker. I am the only daughter of the governor of this state. My life has been carefully designed to paint a public image, but it’s not my own. I’ve defied my parents with my recent actions. My mother is disappointed. She’s concerned that I’ll tarnish the reputation of the family while my father is in the middle of a presidential campaign. She’s just angr-”
I don’t even complete the last syllable before he does exactly what he warned. He explodes. “No. Charlotte, don’t even think about justifying those messages or try to make excuses. That’s some bullshit right there. I saw that unbelievable shit she spewed with my very own eyes. Don’t you dare treat me like I’m clueless. And don’t you fucking dare write her actions off as anything less than abuse.”
I whimper at the harshness of his words and the reality that he saw my mother for who she is through her very own messages smacks me right in the face. Nothing I can say in her defense will repair this, and it’s only more apparent that everything between Ty and myself must end. I have an obligation to my family, and I must conform.
“I know,” I admit quie
tly; my arms immediately wrap around my chest when he removes the warmth of his hold off my shoulders. Instead, he laces his hands through his hair in frustration. “I can’t do this. I can’t explore any sort of relationship with you. My friends and acquaintances are carefully selected to benefit the family. I can’t defy my parents, and I can’t take risks. I don’t have choices here. I hope you understand. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I played a part in destroying my father’s dreams, and I know that if he didn’t win, no matter the innocence of my actions, the fault in my parents’ eyes would rest on me.” Tears spring back to my eyes and flow softly down my cheek, but somehow, I find a little strength to control the floodgates.
Rising from his lap, I move to the passenger side with the heartbreaking resolution that I’ve done what needed to be done. Deafening silence hangs among us as I reach down to reclaim my phone and sit back to buckle the seat belt. He doesn’t move. I see him in my periphery as he stares in shock. When he turns his body toward the windshield and starts the truck without a response, the pain of his silence cuts me deep. If I had any doubts left that my heart hadn’t shattered completely, this moment proved I did, in fact, have a little bit left to break. As he starts to drive, I embrace the ache as the last unbroken pieces splinter and crack until I fear deep down my mother has won.
Anger doesn’t even touch what I feel right now, and my aggression is clearly showing in the speed at which I’m driving. I’m not even sure what to do at this point. How the hell could this night be so perfect and then everything fall apart in seconds? I didn’t see this coming at all. I’m fucking lost.
I glance over at the girl sitting next to me, the first girl who ever made me question everything. She is my game changer, and she just shot down anything I could have offered her. She made me crave things for the first time before I even had the chance to get to know her better. I figured we had more time. The pull I feel toward her is real, and it’s still strong. I needed more time to figure out what’s really here in the space between us, and now, it’s gone.
She thinks she’s completely broken at the hands of her mother, but she’s not. Her wings have just been brutally clipped. Tonight, I saw them repair themselves and grow a little more. My need to help her and show her she’s wrong is overtaking me.
Even if I had the time to fix this with her, which I don’t, the distraction alone should be enough for me to accept her rejection and move on. I should thank my lucky stars she’s pushing me away and forcing me to step back since I’m not sure I have the strength to do it myself. I need to focus on more important things like the first game series next weekend. But who the hell am I kidding? I’m not thanking anything.
I’m pissed that she has this misguided allegiance and duty to a family that treats her like shit and yanks her around by a damn chain. Her mother is evil of the worst kind, but more importantly, she’s abusive and dangerous. Her words affect Charlie, and she can only take so much of that hatred before she actually starts believing the crap her mother says about her. I worry it may already be too late.
I see as she braces herself for the turn out of the corner of my eye. She fearfully clings to the handle on the door. Like an extinguisher to a fire, it smothers the anger right out of me. My driving is scaring her even more than she already was before. My words were harsh back in the parking lot, but they were true. I don’t want to hurt her further, but on the flipside of that coin, I can’t sit aside and placate her pretending that what her mom is doing is acceptable. That’s not happening, and it’s not who I am.
That shit isn’t okay. The number of kids I’ve met over my years who have endured verbal and physical abuse at the hands of their so-called loved ones is staggering. I’ve seen the damage. Hell … I’ve lived it.
Charlie is strong. I read her response to her mother this morning after I read all the other fucking texts she received, painting the whole picture of how and why I found her in the condition I did this morning. The only problem is that her strength is buried deep for this blue-eyed girl, and I only see flashes of it. I want to help her dig for it. She shouldn’t do that alone.
Where the fuck is her best friend in all this? Does Morgan Chambers know this is happening, or is she too busy with her head stuck up her own ass? Who the hell has Charlie’s back because she looks at the minute to be as alone as they come?
Once upon a time, I thought alone was a good thing, but looking at Charlie right now, I’m not so sure. She’s alone in a world hidden under the fake pretenses of love and security. People may look at her and feel she’s fortunate to be born into wealth and name rights, but I’ve learned the truth. It’s her very own personal hell.
Her voice is soft and barely audible when she speaks, but somehow, I can’t help but hear her. “Ty, I’m really sorry about tonight. I didn’t want it to end like this. It was a beautiful gesture, and I hope you know that up until thirty minutes ago, it was the best night of my life.”
Best night of her fucking life? She’s twenty-one years old. It was a fantastic night, I completely agree. But the fact is I doubt after witnessing the hate her mother yields toward her that she has any memories that even come close to a comparison for tonight.
I need to get her home. Then I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do. Do I let her call it quits and walk away knowing what I know? Or do I fight for my game changer? My blue-eyed buttercup stomped her way right into my world with her feisty attitude, the path that no one before her has ever taken. I know without a doubt that I’m equipped to fight and work hard for what I want. I may not have wanted this before I knew Charlie existed and I know I never expected the impact that she’s quickly had on me, but I can promise this—whatever the hell the connection between us is, I know for a fact I want more.
I lean over a bit and stretch my arm out over the huge gap she’s put between us. I place a hand on her thigh, instantly feeling the anger begin to slip away. Touching her calms me? Who would have fucking thought? Fucking witchcraft.
I turn off the highway at the exit to take her back to campus knowing I have just a few minutes left with her before we get back to the sorority house. It’s not nearly enough time to convince her of everything, and with the state of her emotions, she looks wrecked. Whatever stars or planets aligned to make it happen because when Charlie stomped her way into my world yesterday, she stayed delivering a sliver of happiness I didn’t know existed. No matter what grand declarations she makes, she won’t be marching out of my thoughts anytime soon—even if she does succeed at marching out of my life. I can’t handle that.
Touching her calms me. My brain is on repeat, replaying that new little tidbit of new information. Touching her calms me.
I park on the street in front of the sorority house and immediately reach for her, not willing to risk her making a quick retreat.
“Charlie, I want to say a lot of things about what’s happening between you and your family, and it’s important, but not the most important thing on my mind right now.” I unclip her seat belt and pull her closer to me on the bench seat resisting the urge to pull her back into my lap, then continue. “Tonight, you said some things, and although I remember every word verbatim, I’ll summarize. You said we’re done. I get it. You’re scared. Honestly, I’m probably a little scared too, but I need you to recognize that after our night tonight, before your mom intruded, I can’t just forget what I felt and let you push me aside. I’ll give you space, buttercup. But this isn’t over yet. Your mom’s issues have nothing to do with us. She doesn’t know me, and I’m starting to think she doesn’t know you very well either.”
Her eyes are big, and her mouth slightly agape as she listens. I’m okay with her being a little shocked. I’m just not okay with her walking through that door thinking we’re done forever. Charlie’s just not easy to let go and move on, and I won’t let her go to sleep tonight thinking I’m not going to try—to fight—because I will.
She doesn’t respond with words, but when I place my hand on her
cheek and lean in to touch my lips to hers, her hand covers mine softly. The kiss that starts so innocent is full of hunger and heat within seconds. When our lips separate, a soft moan escapes her lips, and I hoist her onto my lap quickly, deepening it. Proving to her our connection is more than a passing thing.
When we finally part, I hop out of the truck and dig into the prize bag pulling out one ugly bear and all but one light-saber. She can have her bears minus one; I want a little part of her in my house, and she’ll have the same for me. Walking around the passenger side, she waits by the door having watched me take one of her bears. “You really are an incredible thief,” she says with a soft smile nodding to the bear sitting in the backseat.
“Hmmm … I hope that’s true, buttercup, because I want so much more.” I throw her a wink before wrapping my arm over her shoulder to walk her to the door. Her giggle tells me we’re on the right path.
When we reach the door, I put the bag down and wrap my arms around her. “You’re worthy of a happy life. It’s a birthright. Let’s make some more happy memories. Give me a chance,” I mumble with my lips attached to her forehead.
She tightens her hold on me. “Deal,” she accepts, and I breathe easily for the first time since leaving the fair.
I wake up feeling unrested and foggy. Sleep didn’t come easily. I couldn’t bring myself to respond to my mother’s message last night and still have no desire. I need to go for a run—that may actually help—but I can’t seem to motivate myself to get out of bed. So instead, I continue to lay here just staring at the ceiling and listening to the quick vibrations coming from my phone on the nightstand. I should check it, but at this point, I can’t deal with any more bad news.