Page 29 of For All It's Worth
“I think you were blacking out more than you realized,” I said gently. “Can you look back and see any missing spots?”
He didn’t immediately dismiss my words as he would have in the past. While Charlie trusted me, sometimes he didn’t fully listen, but this was proof that he was different now. He stopped to consider that what I’d said had merit.
I let him think about it for a few minutes and digest what I was telling him.
“I can’t think of it, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not right.” He shrugged, clearly devastated but trying just to pass it off. “There must be stuff that’s gone. You wouldn’t lie about this and I just don’t remember anything like that…there are times I remember feeling angry at you and I don’t even want to remember them.” Tears spilled down his cheeks and I wrapped my arms around him. Immediately he leaned into me, taking comfort from the embrace. With a shuddering breath he said, “Max, I don’t want to remember scaring you.”
That right there was why I’d already forgiven him.
“I know, sweetheart.”
We sat with me holding him for a while as he came to terms with just how bad things had gotten.
Eventually, he spoke, the words warm against my neck where he had his head tucked. “Knowing I did that to you, giving you a moment's fear of me, is worse than anything else I did. I don’t know what I’d do if I hurt you. If you gave up on me forever, I’d have no one.”
“You’d have your family,” I reminded him.
“Not the same. No one knows me like you do.”
I couldn’t help but bask in the warm feeling of pride that knowledge gave me. I mean, I knew that already but we’d been apart for so long I wasn’t sure that someone hadn’t come along and taken my place. The number of times that thought had woken me in a cold sweat was scary.
We were on such rocky ground when he went to rehab. Our calls had shrunk to quick check-ins from our hours-long conversations when he’d first entered the facility. Part of it, I knew, was that Charlie was only going to therapy or for walks around the family home. He wasn’t able to go anywhere without supervision and didn't meet any old friends. He hadn’t talked about how it made him feel but he was basically on house arrest.
After holding him for a bit longer, I felt my arm going numb. “Charlie?”
“Hmm?”
“I need you to move. My arm’s dead.” I let out a little laugh to show it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want him to think that I was pushing him away. I’d have stayed wrapped around him all day if I could’ve.
“Oh! Sorry.” Charlie pulled back and I immediately missed the warmth of his body and shivered.
Charlie picked up my hand, the fingers tingling from the blood flowing back in. He moved each finger, in turn, to help lessen the pain and I watched him silently as he focused on his task. My stomach swooped with how close we were. I could see the shadows on his cheeks from his eyelashes and his breath puffed onto the skin of my neck.
“Better?” He whispered.
“Much.” I managed to croak out.
“Good.” He dropped my hand and moved away, putting distance between us. He picked up his plate and dug into the food, keeping his face turned from me. I left him to get control of his emotions for a second and picked up my plate, too.
Lunch after that was easy and light and it was only when we settled on what movie to watch that the tension washed back in between us.
“You want some popcorn?” I called to him.
“Sure.” He said from directly behind me, making me start. “I’ll put it on while you finish the dishes.” Charlie put his hands on my waist as he moved around me in the tiny kitchen. Awareness of him, of how close we were, rushed through me. His touch felt like it burned through my t-shirt, branding my skin. I felt the echo of it for long moments after.
He found some microwaveable popcorn in a cabinet and I passed him the bowl. Our fingers brushed, a prickle of electricity passing between us, the current holding a promise of something more there. His eyes held mine for a second and I thought I saw them darken with heat before he looked away.
Settling on the sofa, we placed the bowl between us as a sort of barrier as we tried to pretend the tension wasn’t there.
“Sorry,” I said as our fingers brushed for the fifth time as we both reached for a handful of popcorn.
He let out a strained chuckle, “It’s fine. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I was not fine, but I didn’t have a good excuse for how strange I was acting. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m okay.” His voice wavered with the lie, one of his tiny tells, but I didn’t call him on it.
We finished the bowl and set it on the table. Neither of us moved closer, though. Usually, we would sit close with the easy affection of people who’d been friends for years. While I’d always wanted more from Charlie, there’d never been the right opportunity to make a move in the beginning. After a few years, there was too much history between us to risk damaging it for something uncertain. Now we were sitting with a careful distance set between us.
