“Yes, Darren.” I raise my eyes to the ceiling, hoping to keep the tears floating instead of falling.

“Charlene.” When I meet his two-dimensional gaze, he gives me a small, strained smile. “I waited my entire adult life for you to come along and make sense of my world. I’m prepared to wait as long as I need to for you to accept that.”

“I’m not ready.” I need you.

“I understand.”

“I have to go.” I’m in love with you.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to stay.” He ends the call before I can.

After a few minutes, I open the door and pass the phone back to Luther, thanking him.

“Can I take you anywhere?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I go back inside. I’m not hungry anymore. I touch my throat, wishing I had more than a few unstrung pearls, the reminder of Darren that I’ve carried with me over the last several days. I don’t know how to do this without him, or with him.

Violet stops by after work with supplies. I should probably buy stock at Krispy Kreme donuts considering how many I go through these days.

“How you hanging in there?” She passes over the box of donuts, which I hug as if they’re my best friend, rather than the person who brought them.

I lift a shoulder and set the box on the counter. Flipping it open, I admire the beautiful array of donut magic. I’m starving since I polished off the last box in the middle of the night. I should probably consider ordering groceries like Darren suggested, but I’m worried Frank will intercept and find a way to get to me, even with Luther standing guard outside my door.

“Have you talked to Darren yet?”

“This afternoon, yes.”

She looks surprised. “How’d it go?”

“It was . . . okay.”

She taps her nails on the counter. They’re pink and blue with Alex’s number on the index finger. “Okay how? What did you talk about?”

“Groceries.”

“Really? You talked about groceries?” Violet sighs. “I know this has to be hard for you, Char, but you can’t cut him out, or everyone else for that matter.”

I swallow a massive chunk of donut. “I’m not cutting everyone out. I just need time. You don’t understand what it’s like.”

“No. You’re right. I don’t, not at all, and I never will if you don’t talk to me about this. I’m your best friend, Char, and considering what I witnessed the other day, I think maybe I can understand why you would never want to talk about what life was like when you were growing up. But I’m not sure hiding from it is going to make it any better, either.” She takes me by the shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “We all love you no matter how fucked up your childhood was, just like you love me despite the fact that I’m clearly unable to censor myself ever, and I constantly embarrass myself and everyone around me. Let me do what a best friend is supposed to. Let me help you through this. Please don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not trying to. There’s so much I don’t want to remember, so many things that make sense now but never did when I was a kid.”

“You don’t have to try to make sense of it alone, though, do you?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Violet’s eyes are glassy. “You’re my best friend, and you’ve been like a sister for almost an entire decade. You’re loyal and fun and always up for an adventure. You think you like to try new things, but really you like routine and predictability. And you’re terrified of accepting help, so you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, which is pretty annoying for the people who love you and want to help. But I’ll forgive you for that since you deal with me on a regular basis and I can be a pain in the ass too.” She hugs me hard. “You’re still you. Nothing has changed except maybe now we can all understand you a bit better than we did before.”

DARREN

I’m a miserable asshole without Charlene. I know this because Alex has told me more than once this week to stop being a dick. It’s not intentional. I’m not trying to be a cocksucker of epic proportions, but it’s off season, and my plan was to have Charlene at my place almost full time by this point. I’d been on track before her birthday, and now she’s not here at all.

Alex has tried to get me to talk on numerous occasions over the past week, but he can’t help me, and he can’t understand, not really. So I’ve mostly been stewing in my own frustration at not being able to protect Charlene the way she needs me to.

Her chair is empty. The book she was reading the last time she was here is still sitting on the table. When I’m really desperate for some piece of her—which is pretty much every waking moment of every day—I’ll sit in her chair with her blanket and flip through to the earmarked parts.

Ironically, none of her favorite parts are smut, despite the content of the books she reads. It’s all the sweet moments—the first kisses, the grand gestures, the breakups and the reunions—that she reads over and over.

I’m currently at the gym, trying to run out the frustration that comes with not having what I want or need. Lance jumps onto the treadmill next to mine, and I give him a nod, then up the speed to nine miles an hour. He cocks an eyebrow and starts off at a leisurely six and a half miles an hour jog.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

I make a sound, no commitment either way, because I’m actually pretty fucking shitty right now, and I don’t feel like talking about how fucked up my life is, or my girlfriend’s life, if she’s even still that.

We run in silence for a few minutes. Lance slows his speed while I sprint. My lungs are about to explode, but I’m unwilling to slow down because that will mean talking.

“You were raised by your grandparents, aye?”

I glance over at him for a split second and nod, then stare at the TV hanging above me.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but my aunt became my legal guardian when she found out my mum was beatin’ the shit outta me fer missin’ goals. Or whatever pissed her off, really.”

I stumble a step and grab the rails, lifting my feet from the belt, I straddle the edges, this time giving him my attention and dropping the speed on my treadmill so I don’t end up flying into the wall. “I’m so—”

He lifts one hand to stop me and drops his speed even more with the other until he’s walking. “Don’t apologize. It is what it is. Some people are just fucked up and they shouldn’t be parents.”

“Tell me about it.”

I’m not sure why he’s sharing this with me, of all people. I like Lance well enough, but I think he tolerates me more than anything else.

“I didn’t understand how you and Charlene worked, but, uh, Poppy kind of set me straight on a few details.”

“How so?”

He rolls his shoulders. “I had it in my head that you liked to . . .” He exhales a long breath. “Hurt her.”

This time I punch the stop button. “What?”

He does the same, but instead of looking at me, his eyes are on the flashing numbers of his screen. “Like . . . hit her.”

“You think I would hit Charlene?”

He runs a rough hand through his hair. “No, like spank her and shit.”

That hot, tight feeling in the back of my neck eases up a bit. “Oh. That’s not how things are with Charlene. Despite how it may seem, she’s very . . . innocent, which I’m only starting to understand better these days.”

I’ve probably just spoken more consecutive words to Lance than I have in the past three years he’s been on the team. And my newfound understanding isn’t helping me out much, considering yesterday’s brief Facetime conversation with Charlene is the only one we’ve had in the past week.

“So, uh, based on the way you seem like you’re either trying to murder that treadmill or yourself, I’m guessing things aren’t all that good with Charlene right now.”

I grit my teeth, annoyed that I’m so transparent, and that he’s calling me out on it.

He nods, as if he understands my silence. “I don’t know how things went down for you as a kid—like, when you went to live with your grandparents or what—but I was fifteen when the beatings finally stopped. From what I know, Charlene was a teenager when she went from one fucked up situation to another. I’m not saying it’s the same thing.”