Page 207 of The Charlie Method

Shocked, Dad pulls me into a hug, his arms strong and reassuring. “You don’t have to be perfect, peanut. We love you for who you are, not who you think you should be.”

“I messed everything up,” I moan. “I got in a fight with Harrison, and now he hates me. He threw Tiger in the river—the stuffed bunny he gave me when I was a baby. It was the only thing I had from before you adopted me.”

Dad looks upset on my behalf. “Oh, kiddo. I’m sorry. That must have been painful for you.”

I can barely see through the tears obscuring my vision. “It was. And now I’m scared I’ll lose him and that I’ll lose you too. I kept this from you for months. I’ve beenlyingfor months. Lying by omission, but still.”

“Sweetheart,” Mom says, “there’s nothing you could ever do that would change how much we love you. Same goes for Oliver and Ava.”

“But I’m not like Ava,” I sob. “I’m not your real daughter.”

“Charlotte!” She raises her voice, but not in anger. With deep, unwavering conviction. “You are our real daughter. You always have been. We chose you, and we will always choose you.”

I bite my lip. Hard. “But sometimes I feel different. Like I don’t really fit in. Ava and Oliver, you have a bond with them that I’ll never have. You look like them. They belong.”

“You belong too,” she insists. “You’re just as much a part of this family as your brother and sister are. Blood doesn’t make a family—love does. And we love you more than anything in this world. We’re so proud of you, and nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever make us stop loving you.”

I cling to them, my heart breaking and mending all at once. A law of contradiction.

My tears flow even harder, but they’re different now. They aren’t tears of fear but relief. I bury my face in my father’s chest again, Mom’s arms still around me, and I allow myself to feel the security of their presence.

I feel safe here.

I belong here.

Straightening up, I inhale a deep breath, willing the tears to subside. “I wish I never gave Tiger to him. It felt like losing my childhood all over again.”

Dad brushes hair off my forehead. “You haven’t lost anything. That stuffed animal, no matter where it is, will always be a part of your story.”

“Come on. Why don’t we go and make some tea?” Mom suggests, wiping the tears off my cheeks with her thumbs. “You can tell us everything you found out about this brother, talk us through it. We’ll get through this together. Okay?”

I sag into her touch, smiling. “Okay.”

Charlotte,

I’m not sure where to begin, except to say I’m sorry. I know saying that doesn’t come close to fixing what I did, but I need you to know how much I regret losing my temper and throwing away something so important to you.

It almost feels a bit silly to be apologizing over a stuffed animal, but it wasn’t just a stuffed bunny. It meant something. To both of us. And the fact that I took it from you in a moment of anger…it’s hard to even face that.

You have every right to never want to speak to me again. I understand if that’s how you feel. I wouldn’t blame you at all.

My childhood was total shit. I’m not saying this to excuse what I did, but I carry a lot of rage and bitterness about things I don’t even fully understand sometimes. When I found out you were adopted without me, it stirred up feelings I didn’t know how to deal with, and I took it out on you. That was wrong. I know that now.

My views on family and adoption are messed up. I’ve had to live with feeling like I was the one left behind, and it’s poisoned the way I look at everything. But I’m realizing that’s not fair to you. You didn’t choose any of this, and you’ve got your own journey, your own struggles. I never should have taken my pain out on you.

I know I’ve probably damaged whatever chance we had at building something. But if you’re willing to give me another chance, I’d really like to try. I want to be better. I want to understand you, and maybe you can understand me too. But if you can’t, if this was the last straw, I’ll understand that as well. I don’t want to cause you any more pain.

Please take care of yourself, no matter what you decide.

Harrison

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

WILL

I’ll sass your fucking face

CASE AND HIS ROOMMATE, TRAGER, ARE THROWING A PARTY TONIGHT. It’s the last day of spring break and we don’t have practice tomorrow, so it’s prime time to get loaded without repercussions. The moment we step into the house, the music hits us like a tidal wave, thumping so loud I can feel it in my chest. The living room is packed. Random people are sprawled on the couches, sipping from red cups, while some of our teammates play a drinking game in the dining room, everyone shouting to be heard. The air’s thick with that unmistakable mix of cheap beer and perfume, and the buzz of conversation fills every corner.

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