Page 12 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
We stared at each other in a battle of wills, but I was not moving. I would die in this spot before I let him pass me to harass Charlie and Molly.
After a few tense seconds, Garrison put a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Let’s get that arm looked at, son, before it scars.”
Greg turned without another word and followed his dad to the garage.
I stayed right where I was, blocking Charlie’s door, until they were gone.
When I opened the driver’s door of Charlie’s SUV and hopped in, she swiped at the tears on her cheeks and looked away, her embarrassment clear. “It’s so stupid to cry, right?”
“Nope, not stupid.” I flipped the visor down and grabbed her keys before they fell. “I’d cry too if I knew I had to marry that tool.”
“Bennett,” she scolded with a sigh.
“Sorry.” I grimaced. I hated the guy, but we’d all agreed we wouldn’t force Charlie to choose between us and her fiancé. Which meant playing nice. Greg just made it so difficultsometimes. I tried again. “Rosie claims crying is good for the soul.”
The silence in the cab was punctured only by her sniffling as I drove away from the Millers’ house. The adrenaline from my standoff with Greg was fading, replaced with remorse.
Turned out Charlie’s crying was not good formysoul.
I pulled to the side of the road and tugged Charlie into a tight hug, resting my chin on the top of her head and breathing in her familiar scent, one that both steadied my breathing and made my heart race, a paradox I’d never figured out.
“I’m being dumb,” she said.
“No, you’re not.” Was that something Greg made her believe? Logically, I knew not every negative thing came from Greg. But Charlie’s tears were making me very illogical.
She pulled away, swiped her hand purposefully across her cheeks as if to erase her emotions, and straightened her back. “I’m okay. Really.”
Well, I wasn’t. Greg wasn’t getting any playing time at our next softball game. Maybe the next two games. It was a small revenge, but all I could get away with without upsetting Charlie.
“Are you mad at me?” Charlie asked, her voice hesitant. Her stare was on my white knuckles, and I forced my hands to relax.
“Of course not,” I said as gently as I could. “Greg, though…” I couldn’t help but growl.
Since I was already mentally listing all of Greg’s faults, here was one of my most hated ones. That old tale about putting a frog in cold water and slowly boiling it until it’s cooked without it even realizing? Yeah, that was Charlie, and Greg had slowly cooked her sense of self-worth over the last several years. So slowly we didn’t even notice it at first. He was always right which, by default, meant she was always wrong—and paralyzed at the thought of making a decision that could upset him. Itwasn’t until it started to bleed over into her interactions with me and Rosie that we started to notice it.
“I’m sorry he acted like that,” she continued.
“You don’t have to apologize for him.”
“I am the one who rescued the dog,” she said, resigned.
“That’s not what I meant. This isn’t your fault.” Charlie was everything sweet and wonderful, and some people exploited those qualities until they were tattered ends of a flag fluttering listlessly in the wind.
“Then whose is it?”
“Greg’s the one who agitated the dog after you told him to stop,” I told her. Molly whined in agreement.
She dropped her head against the seat with a defeated sigh. “He sure did.”
I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. I wished she’d take a page from Molly’s book and bite back. She took everything on the chin lately. I wanted her to square up. Punch back. Draw some blood and laugh in our faces as she did.
Here was the problem when Charlie bit: so often she was the one left hurt.
I turned the SUV toward the shelter, wishing I could be for Charlie what she was for the dogs she rescued. Helplessness gnawed at me.
“Your car!” She grabbed my arm. “We didn’t drive here together!”
“I’ll pick it up later,” I assured her. My very last thought tonight had been for my car. It would be fine for a few hours, but I could see her getting worked up. What she needed was a distraction. “How’s your mom feeling?”
