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“He wants you to stay,” Trey says quietly, and we both look over at him. His eyes are downcast, and his sunny demeanor is dimmed, like our argument is eclipsing his usual optimism. “He wants you to stay here with us because no one’s ever loved us enough to stay.”
And damn, if my heart doesn’t shatter—because they want something I can’t give them right now. Lincoln’s face falls, screwing up in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, but it seems to echo loudly in the big room. “I wish I could give you that, but I don’t know my plans yet—we’re still new, and you’re both you—the campus fuckboys.” They flinch when I say it, and I regret the word choice but push on anyway. “We haven’t even had a conversation aboutcommitment between the three of us, let alone what it might mean for our futures.”
I stand. Trey looks hurt, and I feel the panic attack rising in my chest, gripping my heart like a vise. “I need to go.”
And then I turn and run.
“Charlie!” Trey calls, but I don’t care. They aren’t my safe place to land—not right now.
I run up the stairs, and my hands hit the front door, pushing it open, and I scramble to my car, throwing myself into the driver’s seat.
I stare at the steering wheel with wide eyes, my hands shaking so bad that I’m not sure I should drive. But I can’t stay here, so I start up the car and leave, and somehow, find my way home without causing an accident.
I stumble to the house and collapse on the front steps, the chill from the concrete seeping through my pants and into my skin. I pull out my phone and text Fiona, and then I wait there, oblivious to the cold, and hope that I didn’t just make a huge mistake.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHARLIE
Fiona and I are traveling north to Vancouver.
Last night, Fi came to Brighton and stayed with me so that I wouldn’t be alone in my misery. Thankfully, her hometown of Clearbrook isn’t far from mine, so it was a quick drive over, and it’s still a couple of days until Christmas, so she opted to stay with me for another night in Vancouver before heading back to her mom’s house.
We snuggled in my bed all night and watchedDie Hard, my favorite Christmas movie, andHome Alone, her favorite Christmas movie, and talked intermittently about the fight I had with the guys. She agreed that I needed a break, so I called Sebastian and suggested we spend the holidays at their place in Vancouver instead of in Brighton like we’d originally planned. Seb was hesitant at first, but Marcus, always the workaholic, was more than happy to stay, so Seb begrudgingly agreed.
It was for the best anyway. Had my stepbrothers come home, they would have seen the empty house, and I would have had to finally admit that their dad abandoned me. I’m not sure I’m ready for that conversation yet.
I-5 is beautiful today, framed by light coastal fog on one side and snowy mountain peaks on the other. The weather is clearand cold, the winter wind whipping across the highway so fast that I sometimes feel it tug at my little car as I drive.
I glance over at Fiona, grateful for her company. Her heated seat is on “high” and she’s clutching a large coffee. Her auburn hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun, and she’s wearing an oversized hoodie, yoga pants, and large round sunglasses like a hungover movie star.
I still feel terrible about my argument with Trey and Lincoln, and my feelings for them are warring with my desire to move on to another city where I can work toward a real career and escape the shadow of my mom’s suicide. Not to mention, the idea of being as far away from Matt as possible is very appealing. The last few months have made me realize that I stayed with him for the wrong reasons—companionship and security—and being with Link and Trey is unconventional and chaotic and so, so addictive. I’m not sure I can live without it. I’m not sure I want to.
“So will we see moose?” Fiona interrupts my thoughts, and I glance at her before I burst out laughing.
“What?”
“Aren’t there a lot of moose in Canada?” she asks, giving me a shit-eating grin.
I elbow her and roll my eyes.
I slow as we approach the border crossing, but it’s early enough that the line isn’t too long. Once we’re in Canada, we cross the Fraser River and the highway transitions to Oak Street as I drive toward the heart of my favorite city.
First things first, we drop off our bags at the hotel. Then we spend the morning exploring Stanley Park.
Seb and Marcus live in a two-bedroom apartment a few blocks from there, and they put Fi and me up in our hotel for the night, which is not cheap—nothing in the city is.
We stroll arm in arm down Robson Street, making several turns before we find ourselves in a cute neighborhood where the streets are lined with old apartment complexes and small manicured lawns.
“Your brothers live here?” Fiona asks, looking around. “What adorable little apartments!”
“They actually live there,” I say pointing up ahead to some high-rises at the end of the block.
Fi raises her eyebrows. “Shit, that place looks expensive.”
I nod. “It is.”
