Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(70)

“Prove it!” I yell. My voice is super pitchy. Clearly I’m losing it. Again.

Less than a minute later, there’s another knock on the door. “Miss Charlene, I’m going to slide my phone through the mail slot. Mr. Westinghouse is on the line and he’d like to confirm that I am indeed here for your safety.”

I catch his phone before it hits the floor and stare at the screen. Shit, Darren Facetimed. I take a few deep breaths, wishing I was more put together and that my hands would stop shaking.

“Charlene?”

I keep the phone pointed at the ceiling and drop to the floor. “One second.” I put my head between my knees because I feel dizzy. I haven’t spoken to Darren since my birthday, although he calls and leaves messages on a daily basis to make sure I’m okay.

“Firefly?”

The nickname makes me want to cry because I finally understand what it means. I’m his firefly. The one he wants to catch and keep, but can’t.

“Just another moment.”

“You’re worrying me.”

I lift my head and tilt the phone down until his face comes into view. I’m unprepared for the rush of emotion that comes with seeing him. I want to reach through the screen and touch him. I want the safety of his arms and the warmth of his lips against my skin.

“Hi.” My voice is raspy and tremulous, like the rest of me.

He scans my face, assessing, his icy eyes dark and lips turned down. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

I have so many things I want to say to him. Questions, admissions, fears I want to unload so he can assuage them. But all of those get stuck in my throat, and I go with stupidity instead. “I . . . no. I need groceries.”

Relief is followed by a wash of sadness. “What do you need? I can pick it up and bring it over.” He pauses and clears his throat. “Or have it sent if you’d prefer. You can order online if that’s easier and use the credit card I gave you to pay for it.”

I don’t know why I didn’t think about ordering groceries. Maybe because my mom was here until a couple of days ago, and between her and Violet, they’ve been taking care of feeding me. Not that I felt like eating much. Donuts are my go to. I want Doritos with onion dip, but they remind me too much of Darren.

“I have my own credit card.”

I look down, away from his sad eyes and the lost look on his face.

“I know this is difficult for you, Charlene, and I understand your need for space, but when you’re ready to talk, know I’m here, waiting for you. In the meantime, whatever you need, please don’t hesitate to ask either myself or Luther.”

“Luther?”

“It’s his phone you’re holding.”

“Oh. Right.” I feel bad that I didn’t even remember his name.

After a few more moments of quiet he finally asks, “Are you okay?”

“I . . . no.”

His voice hardens. “Has Frank tried to make contact?”

“No.” But I don’t trust he won’t try again. He’s too crazy not to. I’m sure he’s laying low, biding his time, waiting until I let my guard down.

“Okay, that’s good. If he does, will you call me? Or at least tell Luther?”

“Yes, Darren.” I raise my eyes to the ceiling, hoping to keep the tears floating instead of falling.

“Charlene.” When I meet his two-dimensional gaze, he gives me a small, strained smile. “I waited my entire adult life for you to come along and make sense of my world. I’m prepared to wait as long as I need to for you to accept that.”

“I’m not ready.” I need you.

“I understand.”

“I have to go.” I’m in love with you.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to stay.” He ends the call before I can.

After a few minutes, I open the door and pass the phone back to Luther, thanking him.

“Can I take you anywhere?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I go back inside. I’m not hungry anymore. I touch my throat, wishing I had more than a few unstrung pearls, the reminder of Darren that I’ve carried with me over the last several days. I don’t know how to do this without him, or with him.





Violet stops by after work with supplies. I should probably buy stock at Krispy Kreme donuts considering how many I go through these days.

“How you hanging in there?” She passes over the box of donuts, which I hug as if they’re my best friend, rather than the person who brought them.

I lift a shoulder and set the box on the counter. Flipping it open, I admire the beautiful array of donut magic. I’m starving since I polished off the last box in the middle of the night. I should probably consider ordering groceries like Darren suggested, but I’m worried Frank will intercept and find a way to get to me, even with Luther standing guard outside my door.

“Have you talked to Darren yet?”

“This afternoon, yes.”

She looks surprised. “How’d it go?”

“It was . . . okay.”

She taps her nails on the counter. They’re pink and blue with Alex’s number on the index finger. “Okay how? What did you talk about?”

“Groceries.”