Charlotte threw the covers off of her and went to let him inside. Twisting the lock back, she pushed the door open. Max, in a hoodie and pyjama pants, looked back at her in the darkness, rumpled and still half-asleep. He had a sleeping bag tucked under his arm.
“Hey,” she said sheepishly. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Come on,” he smiled a tiny bit, placing a hand on her shoulder and directing her back to her room. Charlotte slid between the sheets and pulled the covers back up over herself. She shivered again, from the cold and from the nightmare and from something else.
Max uncurled the sleeping bag and spread it out on the floor, a few metres from the bed.
“You—” she started, but stopped herself. She wanted to say she felt bad he was going to sleep on the floor, but the alternative was what? Sleeping in her bed?
She could see him smiling in the darkness as he unzipped the bag. “I used to do this for Sophie a lot,” he said quietly. “When she didn’t want to be alone. Are you okay?”
She could just see his silhouette, backlit by the moonlight drifting in through the window behind him.
She nodded against her pillow. “I’m…” embarrassed, she thought to herself, “I hadn’t had one like that in a while.”
“It wasn’t real. It never is.” He wiggled into the sleeping bag and zipped it up. “Not helpful, I know. It sucks because all it takes is one thing and you feel like all the progress you made is just…wiped.”
“Thank you for coming over,” she said quietly, “you didn’t have to—”
“Shh,” he cut her off. “Do you want to go to sleep?”
“I’d rather talk to you for a bit,” she admitted, even though her brain felt foggy and heavy as it tried to drag her back to sleep.
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Talk away,” he said.
nineteen
The days tumbled around. They never talked about it, and it was never romantic. Sometimes they would spend the entire night talking, about boarding school, about things she had missed—he always called it “the missing year”—but they never talked about the fact that they were sharing a room, or that when he was asleep she would sometimes press her face to the edge of the mattress to look at him. Other times, they didn’t talk at all. Max would come in through the back door that she left unlocked for him and silently slide into his sleeping bag, which he had started leaving in her room. She would roll over to face him in greeting but that was it. One night, she didn’t wake up at all, so he’d touched her hand to let her know he was there. He’d apologized when she’d startled awake, but they never touched again.
Tonight, she couldn’t sleep, even though he was there. The wind howled relentlessly, flying over the house and twisting itself inside the crevices where the shingles didn’t quite meet. From the kitchen, she could hear water splat splat splatting from the leaky faucet. If she wasn’t so lazy she’d go fix it, but her limbs felt heavy from the sleep that refused to creep up to her brain. Max was lying facing her, his mouth a bit open. She had to get that kid an air mattress.
A slamming car door snapped her attention from Max and to the window across the room. She frowned, glancing to the clock on her bedside table. It was just after two. Was Sean just getting home?
She could hear the low rumbling of voices. Two.
Charlotte propped herself onto her elbow. “Do you hear that?”
Max rolled away from her.
“Max!” she whispered sharply.
“Hear what?” he grumbled.
“I think there are people outside.”
“A fact of life, I think.”
Charlotte ignored him and sat up, straining to hear. She was right—it was definitely two voices. Loud enough that she knew they were yelling, but too muffled to make out any words.
She climbed clumsily over Max (judging by the sound he made, she’d kicked him in the face) and tiptoed out of her room and toward the back of the house.
Two bodies—disfigured by the condensation on the glass—were standing out by the workshop. She recognized her brother from the way he stood, though his back was to her. The second person was cornered between Sean and the side of his truck.
“What the hell are you hanging around here for?” she heard Sean demand.
“Waiting for you. I heard you got an order back from buddy in the city. I just wanted to check it out for myself…I’m sure he wouldn’t even notice.”
Charlotte recognized the voice. Nick. Also, she was going to kill Sean if he was dealing pot again.
“Are you joking? I should rip your head off for what Scotty says you pulled at that party.”
“What? Your sis has grown up. I couldn’t stay away.”
Sean made a move and for a second Charlotte thought he was going to put his fist through the window of the truck, but he restrained himself.
Charlotte felt gentle hands at her back and had to stifle a yell.
“Sorry,” Max murmured as she turned to him. “What’s up?”
She motioned over her shoulder and out the door, raising a finger to her lips.
“I don’t care if I have to go down with you,” Sean said, “but I swear to god if you push me—”
“Sean, my friend, it might be time you ask yourself if your sister is worth all this trouble.”
Charlotte threw the back door open as she watched Sean slam Nick back against the truck.
“Sean!” she cried. Her plan didn’t go much past that. Sean twisted his head around, surprised to see her. Probably more surprised to see Max standing behind her.
Nick spoke before her brother could say anything. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up.”
“Don’t,” Sean snapped at him, “talk to her. Charlie, go inside.”
“I was only saying hi,” Nick leered.
“You say one more word to her and I will literally kill you,” Sean said. “Max, take Charlotte inside.”
She felt Max’s fingers at her wrist but yanked her arm away.
“Sean,” Charlotte said firmly. “Come on. Come inside.”
Sean looked back at Nick for a few seconds. “If I have to rot in jail, I will.”
He released Nick, who stumbled away from the truck and down the driveway. He threw a venomous look over his shoulder. “You’re done, Romer. You’re both done.”
Sean sighed and turned toward the porch. “I know.”
Without a word, he moved past the two of them and went inside. Pulling away from Max, Charlotte followed him in disbelief.
“You know what would be, honestly, hilarious,” Charlotte nearly shrieked, “if we could be one of those, like, chill families that didn’t get almost murdered regularly. That didn’t start fights with lunatics who have previously tried to kill us.”
“Why didn’t you tell me what happened at that party?” Sean spat, looking at Max as if he’d organized a party where inviting Charlotte’s-would-be-murderer was on the agenda right next to musical chairs.
Charlotte intervened. “Because nothing even happened! Nick didn’t touch me. And I knew you’d freak out!”
“I’ve heard you,” Sean told her quietly. “At night. I know you’re having nightmares again. Something must’ve happened to start that.”
“It doesn’t matter! I can’t have you picking fights and getting yourself arrested. You know with your record you’re this close to jail. Real jail, Sean. Not juvie.”
“It does matter, Charlie! My priority always has been and always will be keeping you safe, all right?” Sean breathed. “I don’t care about—”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Charlotte interrupted, “how this is going to end. Nick won. It’s over. If either of you take this any further—”
“Nick is never going to stop, Charlotte. I did the only thing I could think of when I sent you away.” He looked at her clo
sely, and she could see his expression soften a tiny bit. Underneath the anger and frustration, she knew what Sean really wanted was just to keep her safe. He wasn’t angry—he was scared. “Has he tried anything else?”
“What?”
“Nick. Had you seen him before the party?”
Charlotte glanced at Max, who was leaning in the doorway. “No,” she said.
Max raised his eyebrows.
Sean looked to him. Max stayed silent.
“Hold on,” Sean said, as if he had just remembered Max was there. “Why are you even here?”
“Uh—” Max looked behind him, either scouting the exit or the imaginary person Sean was talking to.
“You think I don’t hear you sneaking in at night?” Sean asked. His eyebrows were in danger of completely disappearing into his hairline. “Are you two like…a thing?”
“Just sleeping,” Max said quickly. Charlotte could feel him looking to her for help, but she was preoccupied.
“Do not change the subject,” Charlotte told Sean.
“You’re sleeping together?”
“Just sleeping,” Max said again.
“You should go,” Charlotte said to Max. He met her eyes for half a second, then nodded.
“Yeah, I want to talk to Charlie, Max,” Sean said.
Charlotte puffed out her cheeks and took Max’s spot against the door frame as he disappeared down the hall. She was gripped momentarily with the anxiety of returning to an empty bedroom and spending the night alone. A quiet nervousness flared in her stomach.
“Was that really necessary?” she asked.
“What?”
“Telling Nick you’re going to kill him. Go to jail.”
Sean shrugged. “Because I am.”
“Well, don’t,” Charlotte said.
There was a heavy pause, like Sean was considering this. “Mom left when I was, like…five years old. You were two, and I was in primary or first grade or whatever. You were so small—giant eyes, wild hair.” He sounded almost like he was going to laugh at the memory, but it never reached his face. “And I still remember the day I came home to find Mom packed. She had the station wagon full of all her stuff, this idea about how she was gonna be with this guy from Halifax she was seeing, her suitcase, and…you.”
Charlotte recoiled. “What?”
“You were just a baby. Mom might’ve been a shit person but she was still a person. You were her baby girl. Mom and Dad were out in the yard yelling at each other when I got home. Dad was crying. And it was because she was going to take you with her.”
“Mom was going to take me?” The words weren’t making sense in Charlotte’s head. She’d lived her whole life under the impression that their mom wanted nothing to do with any of them. “I thought she left us.”
“She left me and Dad. Not you. But Dad went on this huge spiel about how she couldn’t break up the family, and how you were just gonna end up abandoned in some hotel room while she was out messing around.”
“And she just gave up?”
Sean cleared his throat. “No. No, it was…it was a bad scene, Charlie. I was crying and Dad was screaming and Mom was raving. I ran over to her, was pulling on her, and on you. In all the chaos I guess you slipped and…she dropped you.”
“Oh.” Charlotte tilted her head. Stuff like that happened, she figured. “I was all right, then?”
“You didn’t hit the ground. Not really.” Sean nodded a couple of times. “I kind of caught you. We went down together. And that was it. Mom left.”
“You’ve never told me any of that.”
“Of course not,” Sean said gruffly, “because it changes things, doesn’t it? I wonder, still, if Dad made the right choice. Maybe if you went with Mom things would have been better. For you.”
“Dad was right,” Charlotte said without hesitation. “God knows where Mom is now. God knows where I would be. But I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have been with Dad, and I wouldn’t be with you.”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
“I….” Charlotte chose her words carefully. “I guess I’ve always resented, you know, not feeling like I had any say in my life. Like, not being able to choose what I want. I wish we’d never lost Dad. I wish we didn’t have to struggle with money and I wish you could have gone to university.” She pulled on the sleeve of the big T-shirt she’d been sleeping in. One of her dad’s. “I know you sent me away to protect me, but I also wish I could have chosen to stay. I wish I could have had the option to stay with Sophie. But I would never resent, not for one second, that Dad chose to keep me.” She paused, trying to catch his eye with her smile. “They say you can’t choose your family, but you guys chose me.”
Sean laughed at the floor. “Well, it was you or the station wagon, so.”
“You can’t protect me from everything. The only thing we can do is just…try to be okay.”
He finally looked at her. “You should get some sleep. It’s late.”
She didn’t question his change in subject. “Okay.”
He moved to pass her, pausing to place a hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay. All right?”
She nodded. “I know.”
She padded down the hall back to her room. Max was sitting on her bed, waiting for her with the lights off. He’d stayed.
“Did you want me to go home?” He reached out for her in the semi-darkness, half like he was exhausted and half like he just wanted to show her that he was there. Her hand found his as she sat down beside him, the sagging of the mattress shifting them together.
“No,” she said.
twenty
Charlotte had just crawled into bed when she heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel outside. Max walked over sometimes. Shit. He was early—it wasn’t even 1 a.m. yet. She prayed Sean had crashed early enough that he wouldn’t hear them. He’d let it drop after he discovered Max sleeping over the first time, but she didn’t think he’d be as forgiving if he realized Max was sneaking into her room every night.
She could hear Max fumbling with the door and bumping his way through the entry. His steps were heavier than usual. He fell right into bed beside her and buried his face in the pillow.
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “You stink.” Like beer, and cigarettes, and maybe puke.
He turned his face toward her. “Sorry,” he said, his eyes fluttering open, “was at Delilah’s.”
Right, Charlotte had heard. Leo had tried to convince her to come. But a party at Delilah Cooke’s was not something Charlotte wanted to be a part of. Or something she thought she’d be welcome at. Not after the last social gathering had left her covered in punch.
“I see. Why’d you leave?” Charlotte asked.
Max twisted his face like he was upset, his eyes avoiding hers. His hands curled around her hips and he pulled her closer to him across the mattress.
“Because,” he said quietly, drunkenly, “I wanted to be with you.”
Thrown off by his hands on her, she stilled for a few long seconds. She was surprised by how comfortable she felt with him so close. She felt warm. Safe. At home.
“Is everything all right?” she asked him.
“Sophie was there,” Max managed. “It’s hard…seeing her. Sometimes.”
Charlotte nodded, feeling even more sure about her decision not to go to the party. “It’s okay. I know what you mean.”
“That’s the first party I’ve really went to…in like a year.” He sniffed.
“Because of Sophie?”
“Because of…everything.” Max slid his hands up to settle around her waist. “Is this okay?” he asked.
She nodded again. Max dragged her to him, wrapping his arms around her body and holding on to her like it was the last chance he’d ever get. She pulled the bedsheet and comforter free from unde
r him and laid it back carefully up around them.
“It’s okay,” she whispered against his shoulder, and she knew exactly what was wrong this time. She knew what it was like—the dread and the sadness that settled in your stomach, things you couldn’t shake.
“It’s my fault,” he mumbled into her hair. “Sophie…that’s what I dream about…it’s my fault.”
“It’s not,” she said quickly. She thought, briefly, about their fight when she came home. About guilt and blame and who carried the weight of everything. It felt like ages ago, now. In those first few days after the accident, Charlotte had heard the rumours that circled around town and back again. That Max had crashed. Emphasis on Max. People didn’t say that anymore, because by now everyone knew that someone had hit them. But she knew people always made the point to mention that Max was driving before they said anything else. “You know it isn’t.”
He didn’t say anything else for a very long time. She’d thought he had fallen asleep, but finally he shifted, his grip loosening on her slightly.
“Please don’t leave again,” he said to her.
“I won’t,” she replied.
When she woke up, it was light. Early. She could feel Max trying to untangle himself from her. Charlotte rolled over onto her stomach, grimacing against the sunlight. When she looked over, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away.
“Hey,” she murmured sleepily.
“Hi.” He looked back at her over his shoulder. “Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t….” He motioned to the bed, to her. “I shouldn’t have—”
She shook her head, pushing her face into her pillow. “It’s fine.” She was cold without him beside her, she realized. She wanted him to lie back down.
Max reached back like he was about to touch her but his hand froze in mid-air and he dropped it. “I’ll see you later?”
“Mmm.” She nodded and closed her eyes. Leo wanted them to all hang out. He’d actually used the words “family bonding.” Whatever that meant. “See you.”
She felt Max’s weight lift off the mattress as a lazy sleep washed over her, but the rumble of low voices out in the main room dragged her back awake.
The Last Time I Saw Her Page 16