Page 66 of Deny Me
Warm hands settled on her biceps. Charlotte jerked away—or tried to. King’s grip tightened, holding her in place whether she wanted to stay or not.
Maybe words weren’t necessary to fight.
The second the impulse appeared in her mind, she clamped down on it. She and King both deserved pain, but she wouldn’t force him to hurt her. That might break him permanently, and much as she thought that might be justifiable, she couldn’t make herself be the one to do it.
“King, don’t.”
“Why?” He eased closer, his chest connecting with her back.
Pain blossomed at the contact. A whimper escaped her.
“Why, angel?”
“I can’t…” A tear dripped onto her cheek, and she slapped it away. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
He didn’t argue, but neither did he move away. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think. She wanted to disappear, to start this day all over again, make the outcome different. Make it so her best friend was still walking. Talking.
Breathing.
“I—”
That was it; no other words came to her. Instead a sob choked off in her throat, followed by another and another and another.
King’s arms came around her. He pulled her firmly into his body, ignoring her protests, holding her secure while she broke into pieces. Soft words whispered in her ear, and his breath warmed her cold skin. Her crying went on and on before finally settling into the occasional shudder.
She couldn’t stand it. It was wrong—she shouldn’t feel better when Wes would never feel anything again.
With a sudden jerk, she broke away from King’s hold and paced across the room.
“Charlotte.”
“I don’t believe it,” she spit out. “I can’t. He can’t be gone. He wouldn’t have done this, not to himself, not to me, not to the people that love him. He wouldn’t, King.”
“Charlotte—”
“Stop ‘Charlotting’ me!” Anger had her twisting to face him. “You know I’m right. I don’t care if he thought he was about to get caught—which is a ridiculous idea in and of itself! Wes. Would not. Do this. Any of it.”
“Arnold insists it was him.”
“She’s lying!” Charlotte rubbed her fingers hard against the throb between her brows. “She’s lying. Why is that so hard to get?” She dropped her hand. “Someone murdered him, and no one is out there looking. No one is looking out for him now. Why?” When King didn’t answer, she tried again. “Why, damn it?”
There hadn’t even been a note. If whoever had done this hoped to make it stick, wouldn’t they have left a note? An admittance of guilt? Or were they hoping the lack of answers would work in their favor?
“He didn’t do this, King.” Maybe if she said it enough, someone would finally believe her. “I’m his best friend. If he were suicidal, I’d know.”
King stared at her from across the room, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the room. “A lot of things were coming to a head in Wes’s life,” he said.
“You mean like me breaking things off?” The words were bitter, but she couldn’t help that.
“That’s not what I—”
“Of course it’s what you meant!” Forget bitter—there were so many emotions roiling inside her, she felt like she might explode. And then she did. More tears, more freaking words, more shouting. The next thing she knew, she was on her knees on the rug and King was beside her. Not touching this time, just…there. Waiting. Watching over her. Standing guard. Being King.
She needed him to be King even as she hated accepting it. But some things just were.
At some point he got up. She registered the sound of water running in the bathroom, and then he was back, lifting her from the floor into his arms.
