Where One Goes(51)

Flashing back to the motel, I wait in my chair for Charlotte to return. I won’t tell her I followed her. I don’t want her to feel like she can’t be herself around George or for her to get the creeps because I was following her.

An hour later, the door opens and she flips on the light. She jumps when she sees me, but laughs as she grabs her chest. “You’re trying to give me a heart attack, aren’t you?”

I smile and stand. “Just keeping you on your toes.”

“Where have you been?”

“You told me to give you space to work so I’ve been trying to do that.”

“Oh,” she mumbles as she tosses her bag on the floor by the bed. She climbs on the bed and yawns, her hair still damp from the water. “George took me to the Jefferson Pools. It was pretty nice.”

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I say, “I’m glad you’re getting the full Bath County experience.” When her gaze meets mine, I see the sadness and the guilt in her eyes. I know she feels bad about wanting us both, but she feels worse because she knows I can do nothing about it, no matter what.

“Will you lie down with me?” She pats the bed beside her and I want to say no, to resist, but I can’t. If this is all I can have of her for this short time, I’m going to take it, no matter how wrong it is. I lunge and jump as if I’ll land on top of her. She shrieks and laughs when I morph and end up lying beside her.

“Why does that always freak me out?”

“I don’t know,” I chuckle. Turning to face her, her gray eyes meet mine and she smiles softly. “How’d it go tonight?” I ask, even though I already know.

Her eyes dart away for a brief moment before meeting mine again. “He likes me . . . like, really likes me,” she says, quietly.

“Do you like him?” I ask, even though, again, I already know the answer.

Her eyes brim with tears and she turns her face into her pillow. “This is such a f*cked up situation, Ike,” she says. I close my eyes, pained by all the things I am incapable of. I want to hold her and kiss her, and press my body to hers, but I can’t. None of what I feel for her matters because I can never give her what she needs. And I have to remind myself of that. I have to let her go eventually. She cares for me . . . I know it. I feel it every time she looks at me. But I’m dead. She shouldn’t feel guilty about caring for my brother, too. I have to let her know it’s okay; that I understand.

“It’s okay to like him, Charlotte,” I tell her softly. “Don’t feel bad because you . . .” Like me, too? Should I say that?

“It’s not just about you being dead, Ike. Who lets themselves fall for twin brothers? What kind of person am I to say that I love you both?”

And there it is. She loves us both. My heart twists. “If you are going to share your heart with another man other than me, I’d want it to be George.”

“If you were both alive, I’d never choose, Ike. I’d leave. I could never choose one of you over the other. I’d never want to hurt either of you.”

Smiling, I say, “I guess it’s a good thing it worked out this way. You weren’t given a choice, Charlotte. The choice is already made.”

“How do I save him, and let you go at the same time? How do I do that?” Her crying has morphed into sobs at this point, and I can’t stand watching it.

“Because you know I will be at peace. Because I can rest easy knowing the woman I love and my brother—my best friend—are happy. I’ll know you’ll both be okay.” I smile softly and add, “Charlotte, you’re my best friend, too. I’m okay with you being with George. I think you two are good for each other.” And that’s the truth, even though it hurts. She gives me a small smile but still has a worried look on her face.

“We have to tell George soon,” she says, as she wipes at her face.

“We will, but you need rest now, baby girl.”

“Will you stay? Please don’t go,” she begs, and I move closer to her.

“I’m here.” And even when I go, a part of me will always be here, with her.

We lie back, side by side, and eventually she drifts off to sleep. I stare at her, her fair skin and dark hair on display, and I know I love her because letting her go will be one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do, but I’ll do it gladly knowing she’s safe and happy. I hope she stays and makes a home here. This town is good for her. I pray George can convince her.

The night lingers into the morning, the sun peeking through the curtains. Charlotte is in a sleep coma but is startled awake when someone beats on her door.

“Who the—?”

I morph out of the room and morph back. “It’s Sniper,” I tell her as she walks toward the door rubbing her eyes. “He looks like something is wrong.”

“George,” she gasps as her eyes go wide with panic. Ripping the door open, she says, “What’s wrong? Is it George?”

“No, lass. Your truck was broken into last night at the bar. George is there with the police right now.”

“He called the police?” she shrieks as her body tenses.

“Yeah. Someone broke into it,” Sniper says to her, as if she’s dense.

“Shit!” she mumbles. Closing her eyes, she clenches her fists.