by L. S. Pullen
“Like what?”
I peel off the label on the bottle. “My Dad rang me this morning, said he was worried about me. He’s acting weird.”
“Yeah, that’s weird. What brought that on?”
I finish off my water, screwing the lid back on. “I have no idea… He also told me not to be a stranger. Fuck, man, what if he’s sick or something?” It’s not hard for my mind to wander there after what happened to my mum.
He shakes his head. “I can see why the wheels might be turning, but maybe he genuinely misses you… Or it’s a mid-life crisis. Try not to think about the worst-case scenario. Talk to him and find out.”
Flick has brought out a different side to Nate. Maybe it was in part him losing his Gramps, too. He was always a hot head before: act first, think later. But being with her keeps him centred. Never thought I’d see the day when he was the one counselling me.
“Do you know what? Maybe you’re right. I might do that.” I stand up. “And besides, I don’t think I’m particularly welcome here at the moment.”
Nate stands too, his expression filled with pity. “She’ll calm down,” he says, holding out his fist, bumping mine with his.
I leave him and head back to my car.
I hear the sound of the tyres on the drive before I see her pull up. My hand pauses on the handle. I wait and watch as she turns off the engine. I know she sees me, but she doesn’t bother to acknowledge me. Instead, she gets out and heads towards the house.
What the fuck?
“Not even a hello?” I call out. “I never took you for rude, Sophie.”
She spins around, and from her expression, I take a step back. She stomps back towards me, her mouth in a tight line.
“Don’t you dare start with me, Charlie. I’m not in the mood.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I was under the assumption we were at least friends, but maybe I got that wrong, too?”
She lets out a short brittle laugh. She’s wound up so tight. Her whole body is practically vibrating with tension. “Friends… Oh, you mean where one of them claims to have feelings for the other and then leaves the same said friend and pisses off with another woman?”
I flinch internally. I’ve never seen this side of her before.
“Sophie, green is not a good look on you. And for the record, nothing happened. But the fact you think so little of me—” I throw my hands up in frustration, I don’t even know why I’m trying to justify myself to her right now. She threw me away.
She narrows her eyes, pinning me with a hard gaze. “Honestly, right now, I don’t know what to think. I thought I knew you, but you appear to have had a busy night.” She waves her hand up and down the length of my body.
Is she implying I look like shit?
“What the fuck, Sophie? I wasn’t too busy to text you. You’re the one who didn’t bother to reply,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
“Why would I want to? Did you send it out of pity or guilt?”
Frustrated, I grab the back of my neck. We’re getting nowhere. I don’t have to explain myself to her.
I move towards her and lower my head, invading her space. “All I know is, it’s becoming abundantly clear that you don’t want me… And you sure as hell don’t want anyone else to have me, either.”
“Screw you, Charlie Broadbent!”
“You already have, darling.”
She lets out a choking gasp and just like that, the air is charged. Colour drains from her face as her hand connects with my cheek.
I don’t know what comes first: the echo or the sting from her slapping me. I grab her wrist and hold it out as she tries to wrench it free, her eyes fighting to keep back her tears.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I see over Sophie’s shoulder. Nate standing there his eyes on my hand, gripping her wrist. I let her go and take a step back.
“You’re no better than the rest of them,” she says on a sob and turns to rush straight past Nate and into the house.
My legs catch up with my brain, and I follow her. But Nate steps into my path.
“Nate, move, I need to see if she’s all right.”
He shakes his head. “Did she fucking look all right to you? I saw her slap you and I’m guessing you probably deserved it, too.”
I bring my palm to my cheek, which is stinging like a bitch. I can only imagine how her hand must be feeling.
The guilt begins eating away at me. “Fuck, man, I need to go apologise.”
He stands his ground. “No, Charlie. I mean it, I think it’s best if you left, you both need to cool off.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I saw the way her face crumbled as the cruel words passed my lips; they cut deep, and no matter what I say now or do now, I can never fucking unsay them.
“Can you tell her, for as much as it’s worth… I’m sorry.”
My body is at war with myself, fighting against an unseen current. I want to fix this, but Nate’s right. Head held low, I get in my car and peel out of there as fast as I can. The burning sensation behind my eyes won’t let up, and when I’m far enough away from the house, I pull up on a grass verge and slam on my brakes.
I push my palms into my eyes—hard.
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter 31
Sophie
I barely make it into the bathroom before expelling the contents of my stomach until nothing remains but dry heaving. I slump to the cold, tiled floor. I’ve never slapped anyone in my life. I wasn’t in control—the impact ricocheted up my entire arm. I was outside of my body, a stranger taking over, and reality came back to me when I saw the shock registered on Charlie’s face when he grabbed my wrist.
A knock sounding on the door causes me to glance up. I bite my lip. Please don’t let it be him.
Nate pokes his head around the door as I get to my feet, light-headed. I close my eyes and take in a breath. When I open them, sympathy is etched into the contours of his face.
He takes me into his arms without saying a word as my silent tears betray me. His hand rubs my back. I pull myself together enough to lean back. Concern mars his face.
And then he does something only Nate would do. “How’s your hand, slugger?”
I let out an ugly laugh and flex my palm. The skin stretches with a strained ache. “Sore,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He puts his hand on the small of my back and ushers me out of the bathroom. “Come on, let’s get some ice on it.”
We walk to the kitchen; Flick turns at the sound of our footsteps.
“There you are—” She rushes over as I sit at the table. “What the hell?”
Nate goes to the freezer, pulling out an ice pack, which he wraps it in a tea towel before handing it to me and sits opposite of Flick and me.
He scrubs his hand over his face before he speaks. “Listen, you know I love Charlie, but if you want me to kick his arse, you just say the word.” His expression serious.
I shake my head. “Thanks, but no arse-kicking necessary.”
He holds my stare for a moment before speaking. “I tell you something… You may float like a butterfly, but you most definitely sting like a bee.”
I peer down at my welting palm and cringe. “I’m mortified. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Flick asks, concern and irritation lacing her voice.
“I slapped Charlie.”
“What?”
Nate nods, clarifying she heard me correctly.
“I know whatever’s going on with you two is complicated. Believe me. I know what it’s like to have feelings for someone and struggle to do the right thing by them. But what I don’t know is what he said to cause you to react like that.”
I feel my face begin to burn. “Our words got heated; it was a misunderstanding. But he accused me of being jealous… And he was right.”
Nate folds his hands atop the table. “You know nothing happened
with her. But, even if it did, he told you he wanted to be more than friends, and you pushed him away. As much as I hate to play devil’s advocate here, can you see why this flags up mixed signals?”
“I know. It was never my intention. Everything has just become so complicated.”
“Is it ever not?”
I glance at him, and then to Flick beside me, knowing I’m unfair, making her keep it from him.
“I think it’s even more so because… I’m, uh, pregnant…”
“What?” His mouth pops open.
“I’m pregnant. I asked Flick to keep it quiet. Sorry, it’s still early, and I was told I wouldn’t be able to, you know. I’m terrified I’ll jinx it.”
He keeps scanning between my face and my stomach as he processes my admission. He blinks a few times.
“The father?” he asks
I squeeze my eyes shut. So not ready to go there. “I’m doing this on my own,” I say, without elaborating. I hear Flick inhale next to me and peek at her, hoping my eyes say what my lips cannot.
“Hell no, you’re not. You have Flick and me. So, no one else knows. Even Charlie?”
I shake my head; the guilt settles heavy in my stomach, and everything inside me screams in protest. “No, and I want to keep it that way just for a little longer. Do you understand now why he’s better off without me?”
His eyebrows crease together. “No, actually, I don’t. And shouldn’t you let him decide that for himself with all the facts?”
I shake my head.
Nates face is grim. “I still think you’re wrong, but either way, you have my support. I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle.”
I smile as a tear rolls down my cheek.
Nate stands and Flick shuffles out of her seat and into his arms. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”
He smiles and kisses the tip of her nose. “Don’t be. Your loyalty is just one of the many reasons I love you.”
She’s putty in his hands as he pulls her in for a passionate kiss. I pretend to cover my eyes and fake gag. He reaches out and pulls me up, hauling me into their hug.
I know it was right to tell him. But the guilt’s a poison in my veins. I need to brave the consequences and tell Charlie. Nate’s not stupid. Flick worked it out and so will he. But am I only hurting myself the longer I keep it quiet? Deep down, I know I’m using how far along I am as an excuse. And I don’t know how I’ve allowed it to go on for as long as it has.
I’ve had ample opportunities to come clean, but the more time that passes, the harder it is for the words to come. I’ve now told Flick and Nate, when the first person I should have told was Charlie. And no matter how much I try to tell myself otherwise or try to condone my reasoning, I know there is no justification for keeping him in the dark.
Chapter 32
Sophie
Between work and making sure to avoid Charlie wherever possible, I’m a mess. I never thought it possible to physically ache from the hole that’s manifested itself from him not being present. I’ve never missed anyone or longed for someone the way I do for him. It’s excruciating.
I’m exhausted with the shop now more than ever, and I still have this silent fear for the baby. Not to mention, those stupid letters that haven’t ceased. I’m so glad to be home and see the back of this week finally, that I drove back home on autopilot.
I turn the key in my front door and go to push it open…
A rough force shoves me hard from behind.
The air is knocked out of me.
I face plant, barely able to put my hands out to protect my fall.
Crack. The door slams shut. I flinch.
Boom, boom—my heartbeat—frantic, deafening.
“Get the fuck up.”
I recoil. I know that voice. Craig.
I turn. Palms pressing into the carpet, I make it to my feet.
My vision blurs, wet warmth seeps into my eye. I know before I swipe at the stickiness—blood.
I cover my stomach with my hands.
Beep, beep. I can barely think over the thunder in my chest. Beep, beep. I hear it—a beacon, a safeguard—the alarm system.
My eyes stray to Craig. He’s pacing, lurking, plotting.
“What do you want?” I ask, weak.
His wild eyes search for mine. “To see you, of course.”
The retched aroma of alcohol hits me and I heave.
“W-why? We’re not together.”
I shouldn’t have said that.
He snarls like a rabid dog.
And then I feel it—a strike to my face. My teeth smack against each other. The world tilts, I fall.
Immediately, I push myself back to my feet with a heavy grunt.
I can’t end up down there again, or I’m not getting back up.
My eyes brim with tears, but I blink them away.
I need to keep my wits about me.
I frantically scan the space around me, for something…anything I can use to protect myself.
“No? And why is that, you little bitch?” He waves his hand in the air, and I flinch expecting another blow, but it doesn’t come. “That’s right. Because you fucking finished it!”
Fear—pure, unadulterated panic—consumes me. Think, think, think. But I can’t, not over the rapid, frenzied beating of my heart. Whatever I say is only going to anger him more.
“I’m sorry, but we just weren’t right for each other. You know this.”
I don’t know why I’m even trying to explain this to him; deep down, I know he can’t be reasoned with.
“It’s because of that guy. The pussy who attacked me!”
He gets in my space, and I rear backwards until I meet the wall. I turn my head to the side in an attempt to keep some space between us.
“I’ve seen him hanging around like a fly around shit.”
All at once, my stomach drops out. I have an urgency to be anywhere but here. I knew it, for weeks I’ve felt like I was being watched, but I put it down to paranoia…lack of sleep.
A coiling centipede makes its way down my spine. Ice-cold unease filters through my veins. I’m shaking now, and my teeth chatter.
“No, it wasn't about anyone else.”
I want to stay calm, but it’s an impossible feat. His eyes are hollow, void, removed of all sensible reasoning. He’s past the point of no return, and I know it.
He turns his back to me. I take the opportunity to move along the wall, but he spins back, lurching at me when my ankles connect with the stairs.
I land hard, my back scraping up against the hard edges of the steps.
Craig rants under his breath like a madman, spittle flying from his lips. I can’t make out his words.
For a moment, it’s as if he’s forgotten I’m here. I grab hold of the rail, dragging myself up, edging up the staircase backwards.
His eyes find mine, and he’s back in my face again. “Maybe you should prove it, just for old times’ sake.”
I retch and throw up a little in my mouth. I swallow the acid, hoping that somewhere in the depths of his darkness, I can find some semblance of humanity.
“No, I can’t, Craig. I'm pregnant.”
I keep moving back.
He lunges for me but stacks it. My ankle is yanked so hard, I stumble.
Please, not my baby.
I twist and writhe, struggling to get free, but he lands a punch to my face.
And then with everything in me, I scream and rear back, kneeing him hard in the groin. I kick out, yank myself free. And then I run up last couple of stairs and into the confines of the bathroom.
Putting all my weight into it, I slam the door shut and flip the lock.
His hard body crashes into it from the other side, and the whole door vibrates. I slide down to the floor and pull myself over to the bath. Covering my ears with my hands, I try to drown out the pounding, screaming, profanity.
“Go away, go away, go away,” I whisper…or scream? My throat is raw, my voice hoarse.
&nb
sp; I squeeze my eyes shut, force gulps of air into my lungs. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around them, making myself as small as possible. And then I rock—back and forth, back and forth.
Sirens replace the banging.
Car doors slam and bellows sound from the street.
I try to listen, but every noise makes me flinch, and my heart pounds faster. There’s a ruckus of commotion from somewhere downstairs. Wedging myself in between the gap beside the bath and the toilet, I hold my breath.
A raised voice echoes through the closed door, one I don’t recognise.
“Police!”
A sharp crack and a bang reel me backwards as the door is rammed open.
I suck in a gush of air as my eyes meet a police officer who scans the room and calls out, “Secure.” He radios for paramedics.
The officer crouches in front of me—slow movements.
“You’re going to be just fine,” he says, eyeing my face with a slight wince.
He peers over his shoulder and moves aside when two paramedics enter. They manage to coax me out from my hiding place and ease me down to the closed lid of the toilet seat.
They’re asking me questions, but I keep shaking my head, trying to make sense of everything. And then I hear raised voices followed by shouting.
Thunder footfalls descend the stairs.
Shit, he’s coming back for me.
I spring to my feet, panic vibrates through my body, readying my escape.
I choke when I see him filling the doorway, his eyes frantic.
“Charlie,” I croak out, struggling to stay focused.
His face hits me like a security blanket. I suddenly feel weightless as his tall silhouette begins tilting at an odd angle. Everything turns grey and blotchy. Then the darkness comes.
His voice is the last thing I hear as my name escapes his lips, the sound so sad, it makes my chest crack from the inside out.
Chapter 33
Charlie
I can’t get to her fast enough. She slumps to the floor, and then I’m held back by a police officer.