Page 154 of The Charlie Method

Ava shrugs out of her coat, hanging it by the door. “He had to work over the holidays, so he stayed in New York.”

Mom’s smile falters. “Oh, that’s too bad. We were really looking forward to meeting him.”

I focus on the cookies, trying to stay out of this conversation. Trying to keep the peace that’s been so fragile since I told Ava about Harrison. Like clockwork, she’s been texting me every few days about it, asking if I’d told our parents yet. So of course, this afternoon is no different. Mom steps out of the kitchen for a moment to check on the laundry, and as soon as she’s gone, Ava pounces.

“You’re going to tell them during the break, right?”

I don’t look up. I keep myself busy with the dough, pressing the cutter into it with more force than necessary. “I’ll tell them when I’m ready. Stop pressuring me.”

“Charlotte, come on. You’re being ridiculous. You can’t keep avoiding this. They deserve to know,” she scolds, crossing her arms like she’s the one who’s been wronged here.

“I know that,” I bite back, finally meeting her gaze. There’s a warning in my voice, but she’s not backing down. “It’s my decision, okay? I’ll tell them when I’m good and ready.”

“You can’t keep this a secret forever.”

“Oh my God,I know that,” I repeat, my irritation spilling over. “Ava. Seriously. Just back off, okay?”

“Whatever. I’m going to get my bag from the car.” She huffs, turning toward the door just as Mom reenters the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between her daughters.

HARRISON:

Nah, it’s better this way. Dad is always meaner than usual during the holidays. Last few years I’ve avoided him altogether at Xmas.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I stare at the text I just received from Harrison and wonder how the hell to respond to it. It’s the message he sent in response to me saying it’s a bummer he’s spending Christmas in California with friends instead of with his father and grandparents in Nevada. I only recently found out he’s somewhat close with those grandparents. From what he’s described, they seem nice. His father, not so much.

The guilt settles over me, suffocating the joy of being here with my own family. Despite the tension between me and Ava, the house is buzzing with warmth. Christmas music playing softly in the background, the smell of pine from the tree, my mom and Oliver laughing about something as they tidy up the family room after our rowdy game of charades. My dad went for a walk with my sister-in-law, and soon we’re going to put on a cheesy holiday rom-com and watch it in our pj’s.

It’s everything Harrison doesn’t have, and I hate that for him. But I also won’t apologize for my circumstances, the way he seems to want me to.

Ava enters the kitchen, her eyes catching mine before she heads to the fridge to grab a drink. I quickly turn my phone face down on the counter, but not before she notices.

“Is that him? The brother?”

I nod. “Just saying happy holidays.” When I see her frown, I give one of my own. “Stop it. Please. I don’t need the constant looks of disapproval.”

The last few days have been a struggle. Every time we’ve been in the same room, her disappointment has been palpable, radiating off her in waves.

“They deserve to know, Char,” she says now, sounding like a broken record at this point.

“It’s Christmas. I’m not going to drop a bomb on them right now.” I feel defensive, like I have to justify the knot in my stomach that I haven’t been able to untangle since I got here.

She sighs, visibly frustrated, but doesn’t push it further. For now anyway. I have no doubt she’ll push me again later. Ava grabs a wine cooler from the middle shelf, then closes the fridge and walks out of the kitchen.

I know she’s right, but I can’t handle this. Not now. Not with the self-reproach clawing at me every time I glance at my phone and think of Harrison spending the holidays with random friends while I’m here, surrounded by people who love me.

I’m debating taking a walk to clear my head when my phone buzzes again. I tense, expecting another message from Harrison, but it’s Beckett.

I swipe to find a screenshot in our group chat, advertising an all-night rave. The date says it’s tomorrow, and the location is a mere hour’s drive from my family’s house.

My pulse speeds up. I can’t believe they remembered. When I told the guys about my desire to go to a rave, take some molly, and dance all night long, I was only half-serious. It sounds like a ton of fun on paper, but the reality is a bit scary. I’m not a drug girl. Hell, I don’t even like to smoke weed. It gives me headaches.

Another message pops up.

BECKETT:

I’m back from Indy tomorrow morning. Should we go?

But…I think I need this. I need to escape the pressure and the guilt and the weight of all the secrets I’m carrying. There’s still another week left in the holiday break. Ava isn’t flying back to New York for another two days. Ineedthis.

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