He runs both hands down his face. “Fuck. Poppy should be the one having this conversation with you. She’s a fuckton better at this. Look, what I’m trying to say is that I spent a lot of years trying to forget all the bad shit by keeping it locked up here.” He taps his temple. “I’m pretty sure some of it is blocked out, at least that’s what my therapist says, like my brain is trying to protect itself from the worst of it.”

He exhales a long breath. “Look. I know I’m rambling, but maybe it’s the same for Charlene? Or maybe it isn’t.” He rests a hand on my shoulder, his eyebrows pinched, a heavy swallow making his throat bob. “All I’m saying is that sometimes we shut ourselves off from the things we need when we’re afraid to lose them the most. We’re all kind of broken, and we all need a little saving sometimes, aye? Poppy seems to think you two are meant to save each other.” He rolls his eyes. “I sound like a fuckin’ asshole, but Poppy’s usually right about this kind of thing.” He nods, more to himself than me. “All right. Good talk, Westinghouse. I’m gonna get outta yer face now before you give me a beatdown.”

He drops his hand and walks away, leaving me to ponder what he’s said, and how much I want him to be right. Part of the reason I haven’t been pushing myself on Charlene is my uncertainty about whether I’m all that good for her. But maybe Poppy’s right and all of our broken parts do fit together.

It’s with that thought in mind that I drive to Charlene’s after my workout, with a quick stop on the way. When I arrive, Luther is posted outside the front door. He has a twin brother named Damien, and they’ve been trading off shifts this week at her house.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and Charlene should technically be at work, but I know from Alex that she’s taken the week off. I’m also aware she hasn’t left her house since her birthday party.

Luther nods his acknowledgement as I knock.

“Charlene?”

Her muffled voice comes through the door after a long minute. “Darren?”

I press my palm against the warm steel, aware she’s almost close enough to touch. “Can I see you?”

It takes a minute before the door opens the three inches the chain latch allows. Her eye appears in the crack and darts down and back up, shooting around my face.

I hold up the bag. “I brought some things for you.”

She stares at me for a few seconds before she bows her head and closes the door. The lock clicks, and she steps back as she opens it so I can come inside. She looks exhausted. Her eyes are red rimmed, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s wearing a pair of the leggings I bought her and a shirt. I try not to think about whether or not she’s wearing cotton cheekies under those leggings.

Charlene’s fingers go to her throat, but drop right away when she doesn’t find her pearls.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know.” I’d apologize for coming unannounced, but it would be insincere.

I set the bag on the counter and start emptying it so I have something to do with my hands that doesn’t include hugging Charlene, which is what I want more than anything. That and to kiss her.

Charlene frowns as I set the bag of Cool Ranch Doritos on the counter. “What is this?”

“I picked up a few things I thought you might like.”

“Oh.” She seems genuinely shocked, which is odd.

“I also picked up some takeout in case you wanted something aside from snacks.” I pull out the Styrofoam and Saran-wrapped box containing her favorite penne alfredo from the restaurant we frequent close to my place.

“You came here to feed me?”

“And talk, but Luther mentioned that you hadn’t had a real meal in several days, so I felt it might be a good idea to bring you your favorites, soften you up a little after my arriving unannounced.” I’m nervous, so I start peeling the cellophane from the takeout. “Are you hungry?”

“Not right now.” She wrings her hands.

I imagine this level of anxiety is overwhelming for her, so I decide to cut to the chase and spit it all out. I prop my fists on the counter and take a deep breath. “Look, I know you think you’re a mess, Charlene—”

“I don’t think I’m a mess, I am one.”

“But you’re my mess, and I’m yours, and nothing has changed that. Not for me. Has it changed for you?”

“No, but—”

“If it hasn’t changed, there shouldn’t be a but. Why can’t we be a mess together? Why do you feel like you have to go through this on your own? Let me be here for you.”

“But what if you leave?” she asks softly.

I frown. “Why would I be here if I was planning to leave?”

Her fingers go to her lips. “What about the expansion draft?”

“You mean if Vegas takes me?”

“Yes. What happens then?”

No one ever gets what they want if they don’t ask for it. “First of all, I don’t think it’s going to happen. There are two other players who are younger, faster, and better than I am, and they’ve brought on someone new to Vegas to keep Lucas, the owner, from making a bunch of stupid-ass decisions, which includes pulling someone as old as me over to a brand new team. But, should the unthinkable happen and I do have to go to Vegas, I want you come with me. But only if that’s what you want. And if you don’t, we try to make the long distance work, or maybe I take early retirement so I can stay right here.”

“But you’d have to break your contract.”

“The money doesn’t mean anything, Charlene. Nothing means anything without you. I want you however you come—broken, messed up, in leather, lace, satin, cotton pajamas . . . However you are, it’s just you I want.” I step around the island, closing the distance between us. “I keep telling you that, waiting for you to hear me.”

Charlene’s eyes are wide. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, looking every bit the elusive firefly she often is. I understand it better now. I get her in a way I never could have before.

I cup her face in my hands. “I know you want to run from this. I know this whole thing scares you, but understand this, Charlene, I love you. That’s the only truth you need. Everything else in that head of yours is white noise. All the worries are pointless. I want this with you, and I don’t care if it’s messy and fucked up and no one understands it but us.” I smooth my thumbs over her cheeks. “Be with me in this, Charlene. No more of this you live at your house and I live at mine. If we’re going to be together, let’s just be together.”

“Wait, what?” She frowns. “You want me to move in with you?”

That her first reaction appears to be confusion isn’t reassuring, I drop my hands and step back, giving her space. “You were staying at my place more than here over the last couple of months. Moving in is the next logical step, isn’t it?”

Her fingers go to her mouth. Her panic isn’t what I want to see, but I’ve dropped a pretty huge bomb on her without any kind of warning, after a week of not seeing or speaking to her beyond daily texts to see if she’s okay. Maybe pushing my entire agenda on her wasn’t the best plan.

“You’re asking a lot all at once,” she murmurs.

“I’m not asking you to do much more than you already were.” Except give up her house and share my space with me on a permanent basis. Not unreasonable after two years. Although maybe just managing our relationship and making sure we’re stable first would’ve been a good start. It’s possible I’ve jumped the gun here, but then again, sometimes Charlene needs to be pushed.

“What if we fight?”

“I expect that might happen on occasion, since I can be an asshole. There are four bedrooms in my house. I anticipate there may be nights I have to relocate, depending on how badly I piss you off.”

“I’m not joking, Darren.”

“Neither am I.” I try to smile, but I’m sure it falls a little flat.

She closes her eyes and turns her head away. I don’t know if I’m winning her or losing her. I’m about to tell her she doesn’t have to decide in this moment, that she can have more time if she needs it, mostly so she won’t say no.

“This isn’t easy for me,” she says softly.

“It’s not easy for me either, but what specifically is so difficult about this for you?”

Charlene drags her fingers back and forth along the neckline of her shirt. “For all the years you spent with no doors or privacy, I spent the same amount of time locked away from the world. Love and dependency were imprisonment.” She lifts her gaze. “I’m afraid to be trapped again.”

“I’ll never put the lid on your jar.”

As soon as I say the words, I understand that’s exactly her fear—that she’ll lose her freedom again. I can only imagine how she felt after she and her mom left the compound, and they only had each other. It would’ve been a new kind of prison—one created from the fear of being dragged back to the hell they’d escaped. Although from what I understand, Charlene didn’t perceive it as hell until she was out of it.

“I don’t know what I have to do to prove to you that I’ll love you and take care of you in whatever capacity you need me, but I won’t walk away unless you tell me to.” I press my lips to her forehead. “You know where to find me when you’re ready.”

My feet feel like they’re weighted with lead soles as I head for the door. I’ve said what I came here to say. There’s nothing else I can do to convince her.

She grabs my sleeve. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”