Page 76 of Stay With Me

“What does it mean, Char?—”

“It doesn’t matter what it means.” Frustration radiates through his voice. He breaks eye contact with me and pads over to the vanity, resting both of his palms against the counter and leaning forward, his head dropping.

“It matters to me. Tell me,” I say from behind him. It’s a plea.

His shoulders rise with each breath.

When he doesn’t answer after several long seconds, I try again. “Tell me.” Now it’s a command.

He spins around to face me, stepping closer so quickly that I gasp.

“What do you want me to say, Emily?” There’s an edge to his voice I’m not used to hearing. He pierces me with his eyes and moves nearer still.

“The truth.” It’s a challenge. My chin tilts up, daring him to be honest.

He closes the distance between us but doesn’t stop until he’s backed me up against the wall, caging me in with a hand on each side of me. His pupils dilate, a hunger in his eyes. And I can’t deny the throbbing sensation his nearness, his gaze creates in my core.

“The truth? You want the truth?” His voice is rough, angry almost.

“Always,” I whisper.

“You want to know that I remodeled this for you? Because it’s what you want. That everything I’ve done since the day I bought this place, I’ve done picturing you here. The kitchen? I designed that for you. The sunflowers you planted this year outside the kitchen window? I do thateveryyear because they remind me of you.”

I gasp, desperately searching his eyes, trying to find something there that will make this make sense.

“But why? Tell me why, please.” My voice is breathy.

“Isn’t it obvious, Em?” He rests his forehead against mine.

“No. I don’t understand, Charlie. Y-you didn’t want me. Youdon’twant me.” The trembling in my voice betrays my insecurity.

Charlie moves his mouth to kiss my temple, then quietly says near my ear. “I have always wanted you. Since the day I met you and every. Fucking. Day. Since.” He pulls back several inches and my body inwardly protests the distance. “I just can’t have you.”

What?

“Yes, you can.”

“No, sunshine, I can’t. You’re my best friend’s sister and… and I’m not what you need.” His voice sounds sad, resigned.

I push against his chest with my hands as anger rises in me.

Glaring at him, I say, “You don’t get to decide what I need. Or what I want. Only I get to decide that.”

“No.”

“No?” I ask, incredulous.

He shakes his head but never takes his eyes off my face—alternating glances between my eyes and my mouth. “Even if you weren’t Trina’s sister, I come from a fucked-up family, Emily. And I refuse to subject you to the kind of life a relationship with me would end up giving you.”

“Charlie, you’re not making any sense. You’re a good man.”

“I said no.”

Fuck this.

I slide my hands down from his chest to his waistband and grip it, using it to pull him closer to me.

“I decide. Me. And I want you, Charlie. Ineedyou.”

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