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Maybe that would help ease the clawing in my soul.
But thinking that was dangerous for both of us. I couldn’t start using her as a crutch or a balm whenever I felt like this. She would be a drug to me, I could already tell, and I couldn’t allow myself to give in like that. What we had was a one-time thing, and it couldn’t ever happen again.
It was why, earlier, I walked right by her without acknowledging her wave, as though I hadn’t even seen her. I saw the flash of hurt on her face and ignored it because better she got hurt now than later.
However, now I was the one being tortured with everything. And no matter how many things I punched and how many fucking times I called, the result wouldn’t change. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and couldn’t do anything but be tortured by my thoughts.
I got out of my seat and started toward the break room to get some coffee or something as a distraction. A pair of employees, who were walking in the opposite direction and having a conversation, froze, gaping at me. I continued walking, acknowledging their called-out greetings with a nod. I didn’t need them to like me or not fear me. I was only staying long enough until the place turned a profit. Once it did, then I would leave and get Keith to manage the affairs.
On the way to the break room, I changed my mind, though, choosing to wander down a dark, empty corridor instead. I needed to be alone to walk this energy off, so I could brood.
As I headed down the corridor, I slowed down. The voice coming from behind the door a short distance away could only be sobbing. I’d heard enough people muffle their crying to know what it sounded like, and as usual, it set a discomfort in my chest.
Especially since I had a feeling I knew who it was.
I wasn’t sure if it was a sixth sense or intuition or if I was just so in tune with her that I could sense her presence close by.
But when I stepped forward and saw her through the crack of the door, I wasn’t surprised. But the discomfort doubled into an ache that squeezed my chest.
Damn it. Walk away. Walk away now.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t walk away and leave her like this with those pitiful little sounds that wrenched my heart out. As I walked forward, I saw her hair move against her knees, her face hidden entirely. One hand was wrapped around her knee, and the other one was probably against her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her crying. Like she was trying her best not to be loud but wasn’t exactly succeeding.
Was this my fault? Guilt shot an arrow through me. Was she crying because of me?
Probably, you callous bastard.
I hate this.I hated seeing people cry, especially women. Because what the fuck should I do now? I’d never successfully comforted a crying woman before. I always failed when it came to my ex-wife.
I should go.
But I couldn’t leave her like this. Only a completely soulless bastard could do that, and even then, I wasn’t sure. But I had to stop her crying. I pushed open the door until I could see that she was sitting next to a mop bucket and a canister of bleach.
I pushed the bleach aside and sank next to her. She didn’t seem to even realize anyone was here, much less sitting next to her, as she was still lost in her private misery. Fuck, what could I do about this? What were you supposed to do when women cried?
Damn, I didn’t know.
I’d never hung around them long enough to find out. Except for my ex, the only time I spent time with women was about an hour or two while we fucked. And with Kelly, I sometimes understood her even less than the random one-night stands. When I met her, she was a stunning ray of sunshine, always talking and happy…kind of like Charlotte herself. But then, when she got into her moods, it was like nothing I could do was right.
Was that what was happening with Charlotte?
No. Charlotte hadn’t given any indication of having her sister’s bipolar disorder.
But the problem still stood that I didn’t know what to do about crying women. I tried to think about everything I knew about Charlotte, most of which was what Kelly had told me.
And that was when the idea occurred to me.
As humiliating as it was, I had to try.
I cleared my throat and began singing in a low grumbling tone. “There once was a girl from the hillies…she was lovely but a little bit silly….”
The sobs stopped, and Charlotte froze as though she was finally paying attention to me and knew I was here.
“She liked to dance under the city lights even though she didn’t have a penny….”
My voice strained on the last high note, and I felt like an idiot, but she wasn’t crying anymore, so that was a good thing.
“And that little girl’s name was Charlie….”
