I’m currently at the gym, trying to run out the frustration that comes with not having what I want or need. Lance jumps onto the treadmill next to mine, and I give him a nod, then up the speed to nine miles an hour. He cocks an eyebrow and starts off at a leisurely six and a half miles an hour jog.
“You doing okay?” he asks.
I make a sound, no commitment either way, because I’m actually pretty fucking shitty right now, and I don’t feel like talking about how fucked up my life is, or my girlfriend’s life, if she’s even still that.
We run in silence for a few minutes. Lance slows his speed while I sprint. My lungs are about to explode, but I’m unwilling to slow down because that will mean talking.
“You were raised by your grandparents, aye?”
I glance over at him for a split second and nod, then stare at the TV hanging above me.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but my aunt became my legal guardian when she found out my mum was beatin’ the shit outta me fer missin’ goals. Or whatever pissed her off, really.”
I stumble a step and grab the rails, lifting my feet from the belt, I straddle the edges, this time giving him my attention and dropping the speed on my treadmill so I don’t end up flying into the wall. “I’m so—”
He lifts one hand to stop me and drops his speed even more with the other until he’s walking. “Don’t apologize. It is what it is. Some people are just fucked up and they shouldn’t be parents.”
“Tell me about it.”
I’m not sure why he’s sharing this with me, of all people. I like Lance well enough, but I think he tolerates me more than anything else.
“I didn’t understand how you and Charlene worked, but, uh, Poppy kind of set me straight on a few details.”
“How so?”
He rolls his shoulders. “I had it in my head that you liked to . . .” He exhales a long breath. “Hurt her.”
This time I punch the stop button. “What?”
He does the same, but instead of looking at me, his eyes are on the flashing numbers of his screen. “Like . . . hit her.”
“You think I would hit Charlene?”
He runs a rough hand through his hair. “No, like spank her and shit.”
That hot, tight feeling in the back of my neck eases up a bit. “Oh. That’s not how things are with Charlene. Despite how it may seem, she’s very . . . innocent, which I’m only starting to understand better these days.”
I’ve probably just spoken more consecutive words to Lance than I have in the past three years he’s been on the team. And my newfound understanding isn’t helping me out much, considering yesterday’s brief Facetime conversation with Charlene is the only one we’ve had in the past week.
“So, uh, based on the way you seem like you’re either trying to murder that treadmill or yourself, I’m guessing things aren’t all that good with Charlene right now.”
I grit my teeth, annoyed that I’m so transparent, and that he’s calling me out on it.
He nods, as if he understands my silence. “I don’t know how things went down for you as a kid—like, when you went to live with your grandparents or what—but I was fifteen when the beatings finally stopped. From what I know, Charlene was a teenager when she went from one fucked up situation to another. I’m not saying it’s the same thing.”
He runs both hands down his face. “Fuck. Poppy should be the one having this conversation with you. She’s a fuckton better at this. Look, what I’m trying to say is that I spent a lot of years trying to forget all the bad shit by keeping it locked up here.” He taps his temple. “I’m pretty sure some of it is blocked out, at least that’s what my therapist says, like my brain is trying to protect itself from the worst of it.”
He exhales a long breath. “Look. I know I’m rambling, but maybe it’s the same for Charlene? Or maybe it isn’t.” He rests a hand on my shoulder, his eyebrows pinched, a heavy swallow making his throat bob. “All I’m saying is that sometimes we shut ourselves off from the things we need when we’re afraid to lose them the most. We’re all kind of broken, and we all need a little saving sometimes, aye? Poppy seems to think you two are meant to save each other.” He rolls his eyes. “I sound like a fuckin’ asshole, but Poppy’s usually right about this kind of thing.” He nods, more to himself than me. “All right. Good talk, Westinghouse. I’m gonna get outta yer face now before you give me a beatdown.”
He drops his hand and walks away, leaving me to ponder what he’s said, and how much I want him to be right. Part of the reason I haven’t been pushing myself on Charlene is my uncertainty about whether I’m all that good for her. But maybe Poppy’s right and all of our broken parts do fit together.
It’s with that thought in mind that I drive to Charlene’s after my workout, with a quick stop on the way. When I arrive, Luther is posted outside the front door. He has a twin brother named Damien, and they’ve been trading off shifts this week at her house.
It’s the middle of the afternoon, and Charlene should technically be at work, but I know from Alex that she’s taken the week off. I’m also aware she hasn’t left her house since her birthday party.
Luther nods his acknowledgement as I knock.
“Charlene?”
Her muffled voice comes through the door after a long minute. “Darren?”
I press my palm against the warm steel, aware she’s almost close enough to touch. “Can I see you?”
It takes a minute before the door opens the three inches the chain latch allows. Her eye appears in the crack and darts down and back up, shooting around my face.
I hold up the bag. “I brought some things for you.”
She stares at me for a few seconds before she bows her head and closes the door. The lock clicks, and she steps back as she opens it so I can come inside. She looks exhausted. Her eyes are red rimmed, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s wearing a pair of the leggings I bought her and a shirt. I try not to think about whether or not she’s wearing cotton cheekies under those leggings.
Charlene’s fingers go to her throat, but drop right away when she doesn’t find her pearls.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know.” I’d apologize for coming unannounced, but it would be insincere.
I set the bag on the counter and start emptying it so I have something to do with my hands that doesn’t include hugging Charlene, which is what I want more than anything. That and to kiss her.
Charlene frowns as I set the bag of Cool Ranch Doritos on the counter. “What is this?”
“I picked up a few things I thought you might like.”
“Oh.” She seems genuinely shocked, which is odd.
“I also picked up some takeout in case you wanted something aside from snacks.” I pull out the Styrofoam and Saran-wrapped box containing her favorite penne alfredo from the restaurant we frequent close to my place.
“You came here to feed me?”
“And talk, but Luther mentioned that you hadn’t had a real meal in several days, so I felt it might be a good idea to bring you your favorites, soften you up a little after my arriving unannounced.” I’m nervous, so I start peeling the cellophane from the takeout. “Are you hungry?”
“Not right now.” She wrings her hands.
I imagine this level of anxiety is overwhelming for her, so I decide to cut to the chase and spit it all out. I prop my fists on the counter and take a deep breath. “Look, I know you think you’re a mess, Charlene—”
“I don’t think I’m a mess, I am one.”
“But you’re my mess, and I’m yours, and nothing has changed that. Not for me. Has it changed for you?”
“No, but—”
“If it hasn’t changed, there shouldn’t be a but. Why can’t we be a mess together? Why do you feel like you have to go through this on your own? Let me be here for you.”
“But what if you leave?” she asks softly.
I frown. “Why would I be here if I was plann
ing to leave?”
Her fingers go to her lips. “What about the expansion draft?”
“You mean if Vegas takes me?”
“Yes. What happens then?”
No one ever gets what they want if they don’t ask for it. “First of all, I don’t think it’s going to happen. There are two other players who are younger, faster, and better than I am, and they’ve brought on someone new to Vegas to keep Lucas, the owner, from making a bunch of stupid-ass decisions, which includes pulling someone as old as me over to a brand new team. But, should the unthinkable happen and I do have to go to Vegas, I want you come with me. But only if that’s what you want. And if you don’t, we try to make the long distance work, or maybe I take early retirement so I can stay right here.”
“But you’d have to break your contract.”
“The money doesn’t mean anything, Charlene. Nothing means anything without you. I want you however you come—broken, messed up, in leather, lace, satin, cotton pajamas . . . However you are, it’s just you I want.” I step around the island, closing the distance between us. “I keep telling you that, waiting for you to hear me.”
Charlene’s eyes are wide. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, looking every bit the elusive firefly she often is. I understand it better now. I get her in a way I never could have before.
I cup her face in my hands. “I know you want to run from this. I know this whole thing scares you, but understand this, Charlene, I love you. That’s the only truth you need. Everything else in that head of yours is white noise. All the worries are pointless. I want this with you, and I don’t care if it’s messy and fucked up and no one understands it but us.” I smooth my thumbs over her cheeks. “Be with me in this, Charlene. No more of this you live at your house and I live at mine. If we’re going to be together, let’s just be together.”
“Wait, what?” She frowns. “You want me to move in with you?”
That her first reaction appears to be confusion isn’t reassuring, I drop my hands and step back, giving her space. “You were staying at my place more than here over the last couple of months. Moving in is the next logical step, isn’t it?”
Her fingers go to her mouth. Her panic isn’t what I want to see, but I’ve dropped a pretty huge bomb on her without any kind of warning, after a week of not seeing or speaking to her beyond daily texts to see if she’s okay. Maybe pushing my entire agenda on her wasn’t the best plan.
“You’re asking a lot all at once,” she murmurs.
“I’m not asking you to do much more than you already were.” Except give up her house and share my space with me on a permanent basis. Not unreasonable after two years. Although maybe just managing our relationship and making sure we’re stable first would’ve been a good start. It’s possible I’ve jumped the gun here, but then again, sometimes Charlene needs to be pushed.
“What if we fight?”
“I expect that might happen on occasion, since I can be an asshole. There are four bedrooms in my house. I anticipate there may be nights I have to relocate, depending on how badly I piss you off.”
“I’m not joking, Darren.”
“Neither am I.” I try to smile, but I’m sure it falls a little flat.
She closes her eyes and turns her head away. I don’t know if I’m winning her or losing her. I’m about to tell her she doesn’t have to decide in this moment, that she can have more time if she needs it, mostly so she won’t say no.
“This isn’t easy for me,” she says softly.
“It’s not easy for me either, but what specifically is so difficult about this for you?”
Charlene drags her fingers back and forth along the neckline of her shirt. “For all the years you spent with no doors or privacy, I spent the same amount of time locked away from the world. Love and dependency were imprisonment.” She lifts her gaze. “I’m afraid to be trapped again.”
“I’ll never put the lid on your jar.”
As soon as I say the words, I understand that’s exactly her fear—that she’ll lose her freedom again. I can only imagine how she felt after she and her mom left the compound, and they only had each other. It would’ve been a new kind of prison—one created from the fear of being dragged back to the hell they’d escaped. Although from what I understand, Charlene didn’t perceive it as hell until she was out of it.
“I don’t know what I have to do to prove to you that I’ll love you and take care of you in whatever capacity you need me, but I won’t walk away unless you tell me to.” I press my lips to her forehead. “You know where to find me when you’re ready.”
My feet feel like they’re weighted with lead soles as I head for the door. I’ve said what I came here to say. There’s nothing else I can do to convince her.
She grabs my sleeve. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“That’s it? You’re not staying?” She seems confused again.
“I’m not going to push you more than I have, Charlene. I know what happens when I do, and I’m not willing to take that risk.” I pull her to me. All her broken pieces and bent edges fit with mine. “Call me when you figure out what you want.” I inhale the scent of her shampoo and press my lips to her skin for the briefest moment before I untangle myself.
I don’t want to leave, but I can’t stay—not unless she’s ready to let me in all the way. Luther is on the front step when I open the door, staring out at the neighbor’s yard. There’s an older woman in a pair of booty shorts weeding the garden. I’m pretty sure it’s for Luther’s benefit. He’s a good looking motherfucker.
“Wait!” Charlene grabs my arm and yanks me back inside. She pauses to wave at Luther before she closes the door in his face.
I stare down at her. Even with her messy hair and wrinkled outfit, she’s flawlessly flawed. It doesn’t matter if she tells me the only reason she wants me to stay is because the apocalypse is coming; there’s a reasonably good chance I’ll say yes.
She grips my shirt as if it will keep me from moving. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Then give me a reason to stay.”
She stares at her feet—her toenail polish is chipped—and slowly looks back up. “Can we ease into this?”
“You can’t lube up for moving in.”
She rolls her eyes at my terrible joke. “I wasn’t expecting this. I was ready to deal with the feelings part of us, but then you blindsided me with the whole moving-in thing.”
“I figured I might as well lay it all out there for you, so you know where I’m at.”
She chews her bottom lip and nods. “I can’t give up my night with Violet and the girls. They come over to my place, and we hang out and stuff, and if I live with you, we’ll have to do that at your place.”
“Those are the same nights I’m out with the guys, and we never come to my place.”
“Maybe that should change.”
“Do I need to remind you what happened the last time they ended up at my place?”
She manages to blush and give me the evil eye at the same time. “I don’t want to sell my house right away.”
“Property is a smart investment. You can rent it out indefinitely.” I run my fingers through her hair, the need to touch her too overwhelming not to give in. “Whatever you need to make you feel safe, Charlene, you can have it. If you need a house in your own name, then keep it. But don’t expect me not to buy you things. You’re everything I need, and I’m going to give you everything I think you need.”
Charlene seems to fight back a sob as she wraps her arms around my neck. “I love you, in case you weren’t sure.”
“I hoped.” I press my lips to hers for a moment and then pull away. I slip my hand into my pocket and retrieve the necklace I’ve been carrying with me the past few days. I went in search of all the fallen pearls after her mother took her home and brought them to a jeweler the very next day. I picked up the necklace three days ago and have been carrying it around with me ever since.
Char
lene’s eyes soften, and a lone tear slides down her cheek as I clasp it behind her neck.
“I love you more than you can comprehend. I’ll give you anything you want, Charlene. Just stay with me, let me love you like I’m supposed to, let me be exactly what you need.”
“You already are.”
I kiss her, and my whole world seems to come together and fall apart at the same time. She’s everything. She’s all the missing pieces I need to feel whole.
CHARLENE
Darren and I don’t make it farther than the kitchen counter before we’re naked and all over each other. Make-up-slash-love-declaration sex is the best. Not that I want to have more arguments or breakups, but love declaration only happens once. All the anxiety and stress of the past week is erased by each kiss and touch. I believe Darren when he says he’ll never put the lid on my jar. He’s always been exactly what I need, and now that he knows about all the good and bad parts of me, it feels like he’s truly mine.
An hour later we’re stretched out on the couch in the living room. Darren has on boxers, and I’m wearing the shirt he arrived in. The rest of our clothes are scattered around the kitchen. I reach into the bowl next to me and unwrap a candy. I’m already relaxed, thanks to all the orgasms, but I’m a little hungry post sex, and too lazy to go to the kitchen for a snack. And too comfortable wrapped up in Darren.
I pop the candy in my mouth and settle back against his chest. I toss the wrapper, aiming for the coffee table, but I miss, and it flutters to the floor.
Darren reaches down and picks it up, inspecting the opaque square. “What kind of candy is this?”
“It’s herbal.” I pull myself up a little higher so I can kiss his neck. His skin is salty in contrast to the sweetness in my mouth.
He twists a little so his mouth is close to mine and sniffs while frowning. “Where’d you get them?”
“My mom makes them.” I don’t usually eat them when I’m with Darren, since I like the kind of anxiety he evokes in me.
Darren curves his palm around the side of my neck and presses his lips to mine. When his tongue sweeps out I part my lips, allowing him inside. He strokes against my tongue a few times before he pulls back, still frowning. He repositions us so we’re sitting up. “Stick your tongue out for me.”
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