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“You think I look bad?” Sutton grinned and then winced in pain. “You should see him.”
“You didn’t—?”
“Kill him?” Sutton closed her eyes again. “No. But only because he beat me to the kill shot.”
39
Charlie stood for a moment at the door, torn between storming back into Sutton’s room to be with Tatum and giving her time alone with her sister. Earlier, after the phone call, she had turned to him with cool eyes, ready to tell him to take a hike. Maybe not in those words. But he recalled how she’d told him about Shaun. That Shaun had gone ahead on a vacation and left her alone to deal with Sutton.
That she—Tatum—had pushed Shaun to do just that, because she knew her baggage was too much to ask of anyone else to carry. She might have loved Shaun. And maybe Shaun had loved her. But not enough to stick around. Maybe he didn’t have it in him to love her through the hard times.
Charlie did.
And he would.
Satisfied that he’d done the right thing—both in taking charge and getting her to the truck to head north to the hospital and just now, giving her space—he took a few steps away from the door and pulled his phone from his pocket. The call from the ER nurse had come in around 1:30. The drive had taken a couple of hours. He doubted anyone in his family would be up at quarter ‘til four in the morning, but he needed to touch base.
He wanted to talk to his mom.
Rather than calling her and scaring the hell out of her, he sent a text. Just asked her to call him when she woke up, no matter how early. Exhausted from a full day of fun with Tatum, from dancing with her and his family, physically drained from the blowjob in the elevator, Charlie crossed the hall and slumped against the wall. He should probably find a waiting room, but he didn’t want to leave Tatum alone.
She had told him she was glad he was with her. He closed his eyes now and hung onto that. Teasing with her all day, sharing his beach fantasy with her, planning out their honeymoon beach sex—none of it meant as much to him as those simple words she’d whispered on the race up here.
He jumped to attention when his phone buzzed in his hand. Surprised to see his mom’s number on the screen, he answered immediately.
“Did I wake you?”
“No.” She sounded wide awake, in fact. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Charlie let out a shaky breath, feeling the day, the night—the worry for Tatum—finally settle on his shoulders and weigh him down.
“Tatum got a call about her sister.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s in pretty bad shape.” He clapped his hand behind his neck and squeezed.
“Did she OD?”
“No.” Charlie pushed off the wall and paced the length of the hallway. “The guy she was living with…did a number on her.”
“Oh, Charlie.”
He could hear his mom moving now, sliding out of bed. Not wanting the whole family riled up, he hoped she didn’t wake his dad. If she did, Dad would get on the horn and rally the troops and by breakfast, the whole Murphy clan would be here.
Charlie hesitated. Maybe that would be good for Tatum. To see his whole family ready and willing to help. But maybe not here. Not tonight. Maybe once they got home.
Maybe once they brought Sutton and Bryony home to Long Grove.
He hoped they would be bringing Tatum’s family home with them. Sutton and Bryony needed the stability, the caretaking. Tatum needed the peace of mind.
“I just wanted to let you know. We’re in Washington, Iowa.”
“Okay. What can I do?”
“Nothing yet,” he answered around a yawn.
“Do you need us there?”
