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I pointed at the phone, and yelled, “Don’t forget, I’ve been present for every fucking conversation.”
“The chorus was about you, Deacon! I was going to tell him that I was done tonight once I sent him the rest of the song!”
I sneered a laugh. “Oh bullshit. Again, Charlie, save it. I’m done.”
“Is this what you’ve been waiting for?” She asked to my back, and I heard the bed shift as she got off it and her footsteps as she followed me. “To get me in bed, and then use this as your reason to leave me? Use this as a reason to do what you do best: find someone else to fill your bed?”
I paused, and stared straight ahead as I spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ve spent the past month and a half doing everything to get you to trust me and see the real me because I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but, yeah, you’re right, Charlie. Fucking you then leaving you has been my plan all along.” The mocking in my tone was thick and unmistakable.
“You just wanted me because I didn’t willingly throw myself at you.”
“How’d you know?” I pressed as I slowly turned, and grinned lazily to give her what she so clearly needed to see from me. I ignored the hurt and the anger and the betrayal on her face, and stepped close. “Too bad for you I won’t stick around. Maybe you can trick another bastard into getting you pregnant before he smartens up and leaves you too.”
I caught her wrist in my hand before her palm could connect with my face, and forced myself to stare into her tear-filled eyes as her chest hitched with a silent sob.
“You’re such an asshole,” she choked out.
I leaned close until my lips were at her ear, and whispered, “And you’re the biggest tease of them all, Charlie Girl.”
I released her, and stepped slowly away. My expression remained hard and taunting until I hit the doorway, and then I cracked. I let her see everything I was feeling, everything she’d done to me. Just before I left, I said, “Just in case you’re not used to seeing someone else doing it: this is what walking away looks like.”
Chapter Nineteen
Charlie
July 22, 2016
I DIDN’T SEE him.
I didn’t hear from him.
No one spoke about him.
He didn’t come into Mama’s.
He was gone, completely removed from our lives in a way that was impressive considering the size of our town and how often I had seen him before all of this had begun.
In his absence I felt a loss unlike anything I’d thought I would feel again.
Not only had I lost the first man I had fallen in love with since Ben, but I’d also lost the only man I’d ever been able to talk to without judgment or reservation.
It made me want to rip my heart back from Deacon’s grip. It made me want to hide it away from every man in the world. It made me want to hate him for what he had done to me, for what he had done to my son.
I’d found Keith sobbing in his room after Deacon stormed out of the house two and a half weeks ago, and he’d been quiet and distant ever since. He didn’t want to talk superheroes, he didn’t want to talk about ladybugs or Darth Vader, he didn’t want to talk about anything, really.
I wanted to hate myself . . .
Because if it weren’t for both Deacon and me, my son wouldn’t still be moping like he’d lost his best friend.
I jerked when I felt someone kiss my cheek, and focused my eyes on Grey pulling at the book in my hands.
They’d come over for breakfast, but had only watched me while we ate, waiting for me to tell them something I wouldn’t. So I’d cuddled up with Keith on the couch after, and grabbed my book that sat on the coffee table in an attempt to do something other than sit in the uncomfortable silence, but I didn’t know how long ago that was.
I’d forgotten they were there.
“You haven’t turned the page the entire time you’ve been sitting here, Charlie. Are you ready to talk yet?”
I released my grip on the book and sighed. “No.”
