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In the next second, I was in Charles’s arms. He’d dropped to the ground and pulled me into his lap and buried his head into my neck, shuddering as though the adrenaline was dying down at a rapid rate and he couldn’t control his emotions.
“I’m sorry.” My tears flowed like a river down my face. I was saying sorry for so many things. I was sorry for putting his children’s lives in danger. First, the pool incident and now with Kate. I was sorry for putting him in this situation, almost putting his life in danger too.
My life had been a string of unfortunate events, and now, those events had trickled into Charles’s life.
A wetness touched my neck, and I knew he was sobbing too. And it broke me because he was so strong and brave, and now, he was breaking down because of me.
I’d caused his pain and misery.
I needed to leave. Leave and never come back. That was the only way to ensure that Charles would live the full and happy life that he was meant to have.
“I-I hate that I put you in this situation.” I’d never loathed myself more than I did right now in his arms. “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault,” I repeated on a loop, in an utter state of shock. Because here he was, comforting me, grateful that I was alive. “When I think of what could have happened …” I shook my head and breathed in and out to calm myself. I couldn’t go there.
Everything was fine now, and everything would be in the future because I would ensure it.
He held me in silence, as the world around us erupted in chaos. The cops had been called in, and within minutes, the parking lot was filled with police vehicles and flashing red and blue lights.
Full-body shakes took over me as it all sank in, and Charles lifted his head, his eyes lined with tears. And then he kissed me. Hard and desperate.
I didn’t deserve any of this. His affection. His love. None of it. But I melted into his kiss anyway because if this was the last time I was ever going to kiss this man, I would greedily take it and savor it and commit it to memory.
When he pulled back, his hand cupped my cheek, and he stared deeply into my eyes and uttered the words I was unworthy of, “I love you, Becky Summers.”
The tears gushed out harder, his figure a blur behind the waterfall trailing down my cheeks. “You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t? It’s too late. I already do.”
The smile that surfaced should have made me feel better, but it did the opposite.
“I hate myself, Charles. I hate what I did to you, to Mary, for putting you in this situation.”
He rested his forehead against mine. “It’s not your fault.”
“How can you possibly say that?” I pulled his hand down, giving me space to breathe and think clearly. “It is my fault. All of it. I’m bad luck. I’m jinxed. Everyone who comes in contact with me—”
He kissed me again to stop the words from flowing. Then, he pulled back, such gentleness in his eyes as he continuously swiped at my endless tears. “Everyone who comes in contact with you falls in love with you.”
I shook my head, but the sincerity in his eyes stilled me.
“It’s true. My brothers. The girls … me. I thought I’d never love again, and”—his voice hitched—“you changed that. You changed me.”
He cupped my chin, bringing me even closer, and I couldn’t look away this time. I was transfixed.
“I lived my life by going through the motions, living for others, not myself. But for the first time since Nat died, I feel like I can finally live for myself, be in love, be loved without the guilt. Growing up, seeing how my parents were, I thought there was only one person for everyone. You would spend eternity with them, and that one person for me was Nat. And when she died”—he shuddered—“I thought I would never find a love like that, but I was wrong. So wrong. Because I love you, Becky Summers, and for once, I’m going to do what my brothers and Sarah and everyone else have told me to do. They want me to be happy, and I’m the happiest with you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I croaked out. Because I didn’t.
He was everything good in the world—provider, light—and my past dimmed in his presence.
“Says who?” he asked, his voice tender.
“Me!” I crumpled against him, my eyes downturned as all the emotions from the day rained down on me like a tsunami.
He let out a slow breath and lifted my chin with the lightness of his fingertips. “If you feel like you don’t deserve me, then I most definitely don’t deserve you—your kindness, your patience.” He stood then, taking me with him. “We’re done.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home,” he said, pulling me to his side. “You don’t think you deserve me. I don’t think I deserve you. We can both live undeserving lives … but together.”
