Page 35 of Stick Break
“Charley…” My voice is soft, apologetic. “I heard something. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Actually, it’s okay,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I could use the company.”
I step outside, careful not to disturb her, and she turns again to look out at the waves. The moon lights her hair like silver. My sweatshirt swallows her frame. She looks breakable. Beautiful.
“It’s breathtaking here at night,” she murmurs.
My gaze drifts down her back, her legs bare beneath the hem of my sweatshirt. “It’s not the only thing that is,” I say, before I can stop myself.
She doesn’t comment. Just breathes.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask, moving in beside her.
“Not really.” She casts me a fast glance. “You?”
“Restless.”
I turn toward the ocean. “Lots on your mind?”
“A few things.” I catch the way she hugs herself tighter, but it’s doing nothing to quell the shiver running through her.
“You’re cold.”
“No… I don’t think I am,” she says, voice off. “It’s just, my body’s reacting weirdly.”
“Stress?”
A low sound leaves her throat, part scoff, part sob. “Something like that.”
I want to reach for her but hold back. She didn’t take her mother’s call earlier. Her voice cracked when she said she was fine. She isn’t. I know that now.
“What can we do to de-stress you, Char?” I ask, quietly. “Anything you can think of?”
“I usually play guitar. But it’s late. I don’t want to wake anyone.”
She shivers again. It’s not the cold. It’s whatever she’s holding inside.
“Do you want me to grab you a blanket?”
She sniffs, and that one small sound slices me open.
“No,” she says, too fast. “I’m okay.”
“No,” I say gently, honestly. “I don’t think you are.”
She swallows hard. The sound of it seems to echo in the night.
“Rip…”
“I’m here.”
She hugs herself tighter, like she’s trying to keep from unraveling.
“Thanks,” she whispers. “For being here.”
I lift my hands slowly, letting her see them first. “Can I…touch you?”
She’s silent. The moment stretches. Then she nods. “Yes.”
