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I reach up and catch the trickle that traces his cheekbone. “I can’t believe he left you.”
Charlie cradles me close. “Yeah, it was hard for me to believe, too. But coming back from regionals and finding Hog’s tank gone ... that made things dead clear.”
“I never, ever thought I’d be sorry to see Hog gone,” I say.
Charlie chuckles weakly. “Yeah. Same.”
“Have you ... seen him around? Or Darwin?”
“No, not much. When I got back from regionals, I had two days of reading period left and then straight into midterms. Everyone was stressed to fuck. I saw Gabe in the library a couple of times but he was studying. I didn’t want to, you know, bother him. Crossed paths with Darwin and his football buddies in the dining hall a few times. He didn’t say anything to me, so I didn’t try to talk to him.”
I shake my head against his shoulder. I can’t believe they just shut Charlie out like that. Arseholes.
“I’m so sorry you’ve been alone, Chaz.”
He tightens his arm around my shoulders. “Not anymore.”
“No, not anymore.”
I probably shouldn’t say it since I don’t have any control over my Time-Walking and I could find myself back with future-Gabe and future-Darwin as soon as I fall asleep. But now that my magic’s back, at least I won’t be trapped there again.
Charlie yawns hugely. “We gotta call The Mr. Black as soon as we wake up. I promised him I would.”
“Yeah, okay.” I kiss his cheek. “Love you, Chaz.”
“Love you, bean. I’m not gonna say I love you more now, but I feel closer to you. Like, there was always this barrier, wasn’t there? This thing we hadn’t shared. Dunnow.”
“I know what you mean. Sex doesn’t have to mean anything, but when it does, it means everything.”
Charlie sighs. “Yeah, that’s right—”
He seems like he’s going to say more. When his pause lengthens to more than a few breaths, I tip my head back so I can see his face in the pre-dawn gloom.
He’s asleep.
Smiling, I shift onto the pillows so I can watch him sleep. He looks angelic. His hair’s stuck to his forehead in sweaty curls. The strong lines of his face are slack. He’s too bluntly carved to be beautiful like Gabe, but no one would call Charlie Miller anything other than a handsome lad.
At the thought of Gabe, that scritching, scratching anger builds into rage.
The last time I saw Charlie cry was when we were fifteen. A mortal nutter blew himself and twenty-two others back to the Mother one May night after a concert. Charlie and I had tickets, but Charlie’s mother grounded him the day before for fighting with his sister, so neither of us went. Some of our friends did. Two didn’t come home.
The last time I saw Charlie cry, he was laying wreaths on their memorials.
I’ve seen Charlie break bones. Nose. Fingers. Toes. He sprained an ankle on black ice one night when we were walking down Deansgate, pissed as farts. I’ve seen him red-faced and furious. I’ve seen him maudlin after two many beers. I’ve cried over him myself—the janitor needed a damn mop to clean up the tears after me and the crew saw him off when he left for America—but I’ve never seen Charlie cry again.
Tonight, he wept because Gabe abandoned him.
And I’m not sure if I’ll be able to forgive Gabe those tears.
I watch Charlie sleep until the morning sun peeks around the edges of our blinds. The fury that’s built in me as night’s turned into day is so hot and strong that I can barely speak when I slip out of bed. My hands shake as I call The Mr. Black from Charlie’s phone.
“Charlie?” The Mr. Black sounds groggy and I wonder if I’ve woken Rachel as well.
“Teddy,” I say.
“Teddy, I’m very glad to hear your voice. You’re safe?”
“Yes, sir.”
