Page 202 of The Charlie Method

I slide off the couch, needing to remove myself from this situation.

Charlie gets up too, stepping in front of me. Her eyes fill with that soft, stubborn empathy that grates on me.

I clench my teeth. Shannon’s death gutted me, and the truth is, I haven’t entirely moved on. I’d simply shoved it so far down that I didn’t have to feel it every day. But now, with them standing here, it feels like someone is tearing open the wound and scraping a dull razor blade over it, twisting and mutilating scar tissue that never fully healed.

I can’t stand the way they’re looking at me. The sympathy, the concern. It’s too much.

So I shove past them, ignoring Charlie calling my name, ignoring Will’s half-formed words.

The front door slams behind me, and I’m outside, shirtless in the biting February cold, snow crunching under the boots I barely had the presence of mind to throw on. My breath fogs in the air, each exhale sharp against the frozen night.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to get out of here. Away from their questions.

My sweatpants hang low on my hips, offering no warmth, but I don’t care. My body feels numb. Numb like it did that day.

“Beckett!” Her voice cuts through the quiet night. She’s coming after me. I hear her steps running through the snow.

I keep walking. I don’t want to stop. If I stop, I’ll have to face it.

“Beckett, please.” She’s closer now, and suddenly, her hand latches on to my bicep, tugging me to a stop. “Please, talk to me.”

I turn, chest heaving, but not from the cold. Charlie’s eyes are wide, full of concern, her breath coming out in shallow clouds. The moonlight makes her look fragile, but she’s out here, chasing me into the freezing cold because she loves me.

“You really want to know?” I snap, harsher than I mean to.

She doesn’t flinch, though. She nods, desperate for me to let her in.

“She fucking died.” The words feel like broken glass in my throat. I try to swallow, but it doesn’t help. “The leukemia ate her alive, piece by piece. And it came out of fucking nowhere. Diagnosed late. So aggressive that treatment was completely ineffective.”

Charlie’s mouth opens like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. She just listens.

“I was there. I was there when she died. I was lying next to her in that hospital bed. I spent every night with her, holding her until she fell asleep. I woke up that morning, and she was gone. She was dead in my arms, and I didn’t even know. I was goddamnasleepwhen she died.”

I choke on the last word, my voice failing, and I turn away from Charlie, staring into the empty street. The cold is cutting through me now, deep and painful, but I don’t move.

“When I started at Eastwood College, I lied to anyone who asked me about my past relationship, because I couldn’t take the pity anymore, not after dealing with it in high school. So I made up the story, and it was easier that way. But I’m not fine, Charlie. I’m not okay, and I never will be.”

I finally look back at her. Her eyelashes glisten with tears that haven’t fallen yet. And suddenly, the words I’ve been fighting are there, rushing up before I can push them down again.

“I’m scared of losing you too,” I blurt out. “I’m scared because I love you. I love you, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

Her face crumples, and then she’s stepping forward, throwing her arms around me. I feel her warmth against my chilled skin, the contrast so sharp it makes me dizzy. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, grounding myself in the reality that she’s here. Alive.

She’s whispering something, but I can’t hear it over the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. She holds me tighter, her small frame somehow anchoring me, bringing me back from the edge. I’m trembling, and I don’t know if it’s from the cold or the emotions pouring out of me.

“Let’s go inside,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “You’re freezing.”

I nod, letting her lead me back to the house, back to warmth, back to them. But as we step inside and the heat of the house wraps around me, the only thing I feel is her. Her hand in mine, steady and sure.

“Beck,” she says, as if reading my mind.

“Yeah?” We both hear the crack in my voice.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

My throat closes up.

“I mean it. You’re not going to lose me.”

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