Her tear-filled eyes meet mine and she stifles a sob. “And once they know, if they accept it and find peace, you’ll go. I feel like I’m going to lose no matter what I do, Ike. It’s suffocating me.”
“Charlotte,” my voice cracks. Standing, I walk toward the mirror, fighting my own emotions. I hate seeing her cry, but I hate it even more that leaving her is going to tear me up inside just as much as it is her. But there’s a pull, something invisible that I can’t see, tugging at me, drawing me to another place. I’d be gone by now if not for George, but his hold, that weight he’s had on my shoulders is lessening. When George finds peace, I’ll have no choice but to go where that invisible tether leads me, and that will mean leaving this beautiful woman behind. I know on one hand it will be better for her, no matter how sad she’ll be. Eventually she’ll move on or her sadness will ebb and she will be happy. On the other hand, the selfish part of me needs her to need me.
“What if you’re wrong? Then I’ll be all alone again, Ike. I’ll be exactly the way you found me. Alone and hopeless.”
Flashing around the table, I lean over it so that her gaze meets mine. I won’t let her be that way again. The memory of her standing on that bridge railing twists my insides. Life is full of color and magic and ups and downs, but Charlotte is the best parts of life. She’s light and warmth and bliss. “You listen to me, Charlotte. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.” My fists clench as my anger seizes me and her eyes dart away. “Look at me, goddamn it!” I shout. When her gaze flicks back to mine, she’s holding her breath. “Never give up. Promise me,” I demand in a steady voice edged with fury. “I can’t find peace if I think for one second you’ll turn back into that girl I found on the bridge that night, Charlotte. Promise me,” I beg. My own eyes tear up as fear and anger seize me. She’s so important to me. I have to know she’ll be okay—that she’ll be strong. It will be an eternity of hell if I’m forced to go and have to carry the worry of her possibly ending her life with me. I need to know she’ll survive this; that she’ll be okay.
Lowering my voice and staring deep into her eyes, I beg, “Please, baby girl. Promise me. I need . . . I need to know you’ll be okay.”
Tears stream down her face, but she nods slightly. “I promise.”
“I’m sorry I can’t take you in my arms right now and hold you. I’d sell my soul to the devil if I could, Charlotte.” My words cause a sob to break free from her trembling lips.
“I know you would,” she whispers as she wipes at her face and nose with shaky fingers. She takes a few deep breaths and after a few moments, she seems to calm a bit. After another hour, the detective enters with her statement typed and has her sign it in the presence of my father.
“You won’t be leaving town anytime soon, will you, Charlotte?” Andrews asks.
“No, sir,” she answers.
“Your vehicle was brought in for inspection. We’ll be fingerprinting it. If we find any matches for whoever broke into your truck, we’ll be in touch. We’ll contact you when you can pick up the vehicle.”
“Thank you,” she says, and nods numbly before standing. My father leads her out of the interrogation room and down the corridor until they reach the lobby. George flies out of his chair and wraps his arms around her. “What in the hell took so long?” he growls. There are bags under his eyes and he’s pale. It’s not hard to see he’s hurting.
“George, it’s been a long day. Let’s just get her home,” my father encourages. He senses George’s agitation, but doesn’t realize it’s in part due to his withdrawals.
“I’ll drive them,” Sniper volunteers.
Sniper drops George and me off at his house, insisting he can handle things at the restaurant. George held me in the backseat the entire way to his house despite his own problems. His breathing was labored, and I know he’s ill. I told him about finding Casey’s body; of course, I left out the part about Casey’s soul showing me where it was. He hugged me tighter and told me how strong I was after experiencing something like that. My insides twisted, knowing I was lying to him yet again.
Once we’re inside, he leads me to the bathroom in the master bedroom and starts the faucet. “You take a warm bath and try to relax. I’ll order a pizza.”
“George, you aren’t feeling well. You should take a hot shower and let me handle dinner.”
“You’ve had a really shitty day. I’m going to feel like ass no matter what I do. At least one of us should feel a little better.”
He gives me a T-shirt and some boxers and leaves me to bathe. I soak for a long time until I hear his doorbell ding and know it must be the pizza. I haven’t eaten anything all day so I hurry out of the tub and dress.
By the time I reach the kitchen, George is in only a pair of basketball shorts, his skin coated in sweat. Shit. He doesn’t look so well.