You're to Blame(64)

She looks back towards my father’s office, a distant, sad look on her face. “No, I’m just waking up, Duke.”

What has been the catalyst for this shift between us?

My eyebrows pinch together. “I better go. You can call me, if you like.”

At my offer, the corners of her mouth stir awake and form a smile. Typically, I’d say something like this to appease her, but this time I hope she follows through.

Her smile brightens, and she nods. “I may just do that.”

An understanding passes through us. I may not fully comprehend what is going on under this roof every day, but I do know how tender and sincere she’s looking at me right now.

I hustle down the steps, taking them two at a time to escape the twilight zone I’ve just stepped into. In the foyer, Dee waits for me, a stack of Tupperware in her hands. I grab them and set them on the console table and engulf her in a tight hug.

“Do you mind explaining to me what’s been going on around here?” My eyes shift to the balcony above us. “My mother was just genuine and sincere with me.”

“I overheard a phone conversation. She mentioned divorce.” Dee pushes back from my hug, holding a finger to her lips. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Like she’s planning on divorcing the sour bastard?” My laugh echoes against the cathedral ceilings. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Dee.” I lean down and kiss her on the cheek.

“Don’t forget your food. You need to find a nice girl to cook for you, or else you’ll wilt down to nothing.”

“I’m hardly wilting away. I’m two hundred pounds, for Christ’s sake.” I showboat my bicep and lift my shirt to expose my abs.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Dee rolls her eyes. “If you dare to do it, bring that sweet girl who has you tied in knots around here, and don’t forget what I said. Saying I’m sorry and owning it goes a long way when you really mean it.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” I swoop up the containers and wave goodbye over my shoulder.

In the small amount of time spent with Dee, an ounce of the weight has been lifted off my shoulders. She always manages to put things into perspective.

My phone rings when I’m almost back to town. The screen illuminates with Charlotte’s name, and my stomach grows twelve times its size. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? Should I be surprised? It’s Charlotte. No emotion brought on by that girl can shock me. I click the side of my phone, sending her to voicemail.

I speed through my hometown until my tires hit the highway. Forty minutes later and I’m near campus. My apartment flashes by, and the need for sleep hits me, but what I need is to get this guilt off my chest.

My phone buzzes, and Charlotte’s name pops up once again. I allow it to slip into my voicemail and don’t respond until I pull into the hospital parking lot.

Dee was right, and I’ve known it all along. It’s about damn time I start taking responsibility. I should’ve followed Charlotte into the hospital instead of dropping her off. She deserves someone willing to stand next to her and shout her worth. Lord knows Jacob doesn’t.

I don’t want to be the old version of myself, the one who denied any feelings outside of the bedroom. This moment has been inevitable since the beginning when Charlotte crawled up inside of me and refused to leave.

It’s do or die, Duke.

Prove to her you aren’t like everyone else.





Chapter Seventeen





Charlotte


I can’t go in there.

My ears feel like water has flooded every single nerve, drowning out the sounds around me. After Wes’s reaction outside the hospital, it’s easy to assume he knows more than I’d like him to. He leaves me to my own accord, stating I needed to go in on my own. A giant mistake on his part because the elevator ascends, and I push the third floor before we pass by to make my escape.

“Will you come pick me up?” I say to Rachel when she answers.

“What’s going on, sweetie?” The desperation in my voice has tipped her off. Her keys jingle in the background, and I know she’s already shuffling towards the door.

“He’s awake,” I whisper, fearful of two little words. They’re meaningless when separate, but together, they somehow become reflective of the direction my life has taken me.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Hang tight.” Click.

Five, maybe ten minutes later, Rachel pulls up outside of the emergency room. I’m sitting on a bench, wallowing in my own pity because why the fuck not. It can’t hurt at this point, now that I’ve screwed everything up beyond proportion.

“Want to go grab a milkshake, throw on some pajamas, and veg out?”

“Only if you promise to tell me I’m not a colossal piece of shit.” I open the door and slide in beside my best friend. She tilts her head in my direction, and her soft smile hits me straight in the stomach. She can’t tell me I’m not a piece of shit because both of us know I’ve made some not so wise decisions lately.

“How about that milkshake then?” I ask, resting my head back on the seat. The warmth from her hand on mine calms me, allowing me a split second to cut off the tears before they fall.

Rachel pulls through the drive-thru, orders chocolate milkshakes, and heads back to our apartment. No words are spoken until we are relaxed on the couch and hidden behind the safety of our door.