Page 71 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
“We’re not leaving,” she said firmly. “No matter what the punishment is.”
I sighed. No punishment they’d give us could be worse than seeing her hurt. “We’ll deal with whatever it is together.”
“I’m serious. Greg never listened to me. I needyouto listen to me.” The pleading in her voice made my heart ache.
It was a bad idea to stay out here with an injury. A bad idea to put my hand behind her head and hold her as close as I dared while we were both emotional.
But I couldn’t steal her autonomy the way Greg had. Iwouldn’t.
“Okay,” I promised. “We’ll stay.”
29
CHARLIE
RED ALERT! RED ALERT! Bennett took his shirt off today and I died, then I came back to life, just so I could see it again, and I died again! Like I was just innocently WALKING DOWN THE STREET, bringing the Forresters some of the lemonade my mom made for them. He was outside, with his back to me, and suddenly he just RIPPED OFF HIS SHIRT AND USED IT TO WIPE THE SWEAT ON HIS FOREHEAD, and then when I made some sort of choking noise, HE TURNED AND SAID HELLO TO ME. I don’t think words can do the sight of him justice, so I won’t even try. I may be physically writing in this journal, but my spirit will be frozen on the walkway in front of the Forresters’ house forever.
—from the journal of 18-year-old Charlie Savage
“We need to change the bandage.” Bennett stood in front of me with the first aid kit. I was sitting outside in the fresh, clean air. The storm had moved on sometime in the night, leaving behind puddles, damp ground, and the amazing scent of alder and dogwood lingering throughout our camp.
“I can do it,” I said. Allowing even a sliver of the memory of Bennett’s fingers running along my ribs made me feel overheated. I couldn’t trust myself if he were to touch me again.
If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I would have begged him to kiss me, especially after he melted me with his story about Hansel. As if it weren’t enough that he’d had to marry me—I wasn’t going to guilt him into kissing me too. My neediness had to have boundaries.
He set the kit beside me and went back to fixing a few of the logs on the side of our shelter that had readjusted during the storm. I knew he wanted to call base camp and have me looked at by a doctor, but he was respecting my wishes. And not being a passive-aggressive baby about it either.
Why was that so hot?
No, really. This kind of behavior should be expected of a grown man, but I was so used to walking on eggshells, justifying every decision I made, and being patronized that I’d forgotten what it felt like to be around someone who trusted me. When it came down to it, that’s what this was. He trusted me to know my limits, and I trusted him to respect me. It felt like I was holding a precious baby bird in my palms, and I needed to be careful.
I finished attending to my cut, which looked much better than I expected based on how much it hurt. The butterflybandages were holding up nicely, and it wasn’t puffy or red like I feared. I sprayed more antiseptic on it, and antibiotic gel, before I tucked the hem of my shirt into my bra to let the wound breathe.
Also, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world for Bennett to see that it looked okay in the light of day, because I knew he was worried about me.
A trilling noise sounded from inside our shelter.
“Did you hear that?” I asked Bennett, who also paused to listen. “Is that a ringing?”
“It’s the SAT phone.”
Bennett and I went into the shelter, and he moved our sleeping bag to reveal the SAT phone tucked under the side he’d slept on.
“Did you have that near you all night?” I asked.
“In case something happened to you.”
I gave him a tight side hug in gratitude. I might not always know where the fake ended and the real began in this marriage of ours, but I knew this: Bennett cared for me. And to be cared for by someone like Bennett shouldn’t be taken for granted.
He answered the phone. I tried not to wring my hands in anxiety. The show only called for one reason after you lost a challenge—to let you know your punishment.
Bennett’s nodding gave me no indication of what was being said. He looked at me closely, his gaze flitting down to my ribs, then back up again to my lips. My stomach swooped, as if his gaze were an actual touch, which was both delicious and disconcerting.
“I understand. We’ll do better.” He gave me a meaningful look I couldn’t interpret and then held the phone away from his ear and turned on speakerphone.
Savannah’s familiar voice came through the tinny speaker. “Unfortunately, Team Forrester did not complete the challenge. For your punishment, you will each need to give up one item.”
I nearly collapsed in relief. We weren’t getting sent home yet.
