Page 122 of The Husband Game

“I believe you,” Dustin said, heart aching because he wanted to protect Charlie, but how could he when he had no idea what was going on with him?

But that had to be Charlie’s choice. He’d told Dustin he would tell him in the future and it would only hurt his trust if Dustin pushed.

“Tell me what I can do to help,” he whispered instead, rubbing his thumb across Charlie’s stomach in a way he hoped was soothing.

“Just hold me.” Charlie’s voice was so small it made Dustin’s heart ache even more.

He gently encouraged Charlie to slide across the bed toward him. He coaxed Charlie to roll on his side, then gathered him close until his cheek was pressed to Dustin’s chest.

He still held himself stiffly in Dustin’s arms and Dustin closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Charlie’s hair.

“I’m here,” he whispered, rubbing his back in soft, sweeping strokes. “I’m here. I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

It felt like too little but after a moment Charlie let out this little shuddering sigh and his body softened, growing pliant in Dustin’s arms.

As Dustin lay there in the dark bedroom, he had to hope it was enough. Whatever demons clawed at Charlie, Dustin wanted to help him face them.

Hopefully, in time, Charlie would trust him enough to share them.

* * *

They ruin everything, Charlie thought bitterly as he stirred his oatmeal the following morning.

Things had been so good with Dustin lately too.

Charlie had felt so good and free and like he was finally able to relax and let his guard down. It had felt like … well, like it was starting to be real.

And God, some little part of him was starting to hunger for that.

This was the perfect reminder that no matter how good things seemed, they never lasted.

Charlie closed his eyes, tears prickling behind his lids as he took a couple of deep breaths.

Dustin sat at the ping-pong table eating his breakfast and Charlie didn’t want to have another breakdown in front of him. Last night was bad enough.

This morning, he’d woken up long before Dustin.

He’d slipped out of bed without waking him to go work out. He’d done a quick hard run, then a grueling conditioning round, but it still hadn’t settled the jangling, off-kilter feeling inside him.

God, he hated this. He hated the way his parents disrupted all of the work he did to find peace with cutting them out of his life.

And they’d forced Charlie to tell Dustin about it. Which … fine, was probably a good thing, but he hadn’t liked doing it. And he hated not being able to do it on his own terms.

Dustin was so sweet about it but it made Charlie’s skin crawl to talk about his past.

How could he explain to anyone what it was like to have a mother so immersed in her own eating disorder she couldn’t see she was passing that on to him?

A mother who was so focused on winning, she couldn’t see it was killing him to compete.

A father who would do nothing to stop her, who let Charlie’s cries for help fall on deaf ears.

Dustin spoke about his own family with such love. How could he ever understand?

A few tears spilled onto Charlie’s cheeks and he blinked hard, trying to will them away as he discreetly wiped them from his skin.

He hated this.

Hated the way it churned him up inside and swept away everything good he’d been working so hard for.

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