Page 193 of The Charlie Method

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re playing with fire, kid. I saw the way you looked at her. This isn’t some casual fling. You’re involving your heart in something that could blow up in your bloody face. And for what? Because you’re too scared to let someone in for real?”

I frown at him. “What?”

“You’re saying that’s not what this is?”

“That’s not it at all,” I snap, my knuckles tightening on the wheel.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You picked this girl because it’s safe. Because deep down, you know this isn’t going to go anywhere. It’s an excuse to keep your heart locked up.”

The accusation stings more than I expected. I’ve been trying not to overthink it, but Dad’s right. It’s not just about now. The future is a big, looming question mark.

“I’m not doing this because it’s safe.” I hear the defensive note in my voice and wince. “I care about her. I care about both of them.”

“Do you? Or are you just hiding behind them because it’s easier than facing the possibility of getting hurt again?”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. I don’t know how to answer that. Because maybe he’s right. Maybe Ihavebeen using this situation as a way to protect myself, to keep from fully opening up, from risking everything.

“Beckett,” Dad says, his tone gentle now, “I get it. I do. After what happened with Shannon, I understand why you’d be scared to let someone in. But this isn’t the answer. You can’t…sharea girlfriend. You’re only hurting yourself more in the long run.”

I stare straight ahead. I don’t want to admit that he might be right. I don’t want to face the possibility that I’m sabotaging something out of fear.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay not to know. But don’t settle for something just because it feels safe.”

We drive the rest of the way in silence.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHARLOTTE

The supreme slut of the galaxy

BY MIDWEEK, I’VE BASICALLY MOVED INTO THE ENGINEERING LAB ANDam considering purchasing a sleeping bag and hot plate. The prototype for my blood pressure device is fucking beautiful, though. Works like a dream. Even my advisor was impressed when she stopped by earlier to check in on me.

With spring break quickly approaching, I want to make some real progress on my capstone so I can actually—gasp—relax. Harrison texted last night, offering to fly out for a visit during break because I couldn’t make a trip out west happen, and I’d like to see him. It’s his birthday that weekend too, so it would be nice to spend it with him, especially now that he seems to have lost some of the chip on his shoulder. Our last few text exchanges have been great. Not a single jab or veiled remark about my family, and he hasn’t asked whether I’ve told them about him.

Which I still haven’t done. I think even Ava has given up on it. And to be honest, I’m both shocked and grateful that she’s managed to keep it to herself. I assumed she would’ve blabbed to our parents ages ago, but she’s respecting my wishes of wanting to tell them myself.

Which I’ll do.

Eventually.

It’s past ten o’clock when I leave the lab. There are a few messages in our group chat and one of Beckett’s signature notes in my purse, which I discover when I’m pulling out my phone.

No more all-nighters at the lab.

Please, baby. I miss your pussy so bad.

I bite my lip and smile. Boyfriend #2 has a way with words. I’m sort of obsessed with his notes. I have no clue how he manages to slip them in my bag without me noticing, but every few days, usually after I’ve spent the night at the boys’ house, I’ll find a new note, scrawled in his familiar handwriting.

In the group chat, the messages come from Will.

WILL:

How’s the project going?

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