“Goddamn it, George!” Sniper yells. “Stop!”
George turns and glares, which gives Charlotte just enough time to catch up to him again. She doesn’t grab, more like slams in to him, and clings for dear life, burying her face in his chest. “Please don’t go. Don’t you see, George,” she pleads. “He saved me so I could save you, which in a way means, you saved me, too.” George’s arms lay limp at his sides as she holds him tightly, his jaw set. He swallows hard, refusing to look at her. But the look in his eyes says it all. He’s hurt. Mentioning me has affected him more than we thought, and I’m terrified he’ll return to his destructive ways.
“Tell him I’m still here,” I tell her. “Tell him to say or ask anything, I’ll hear him.”
Charlotte stands upright and wipes at her face with her soiled hands. “He wants you to know he’s still here and you can ask him anything.”
George shakes his head in disbelief, anger lacing his features. “George, man, she’s telling you the truth,” Sniper says. “This is your chance, brother, to tell Ike something. Don’t miss your chance to say good-bye.”
“You’re a fucking asshole for not telling me how crazy she is,” he spats. “And you,” he adds, and points to Charlotte, who cowers away slightly, “you need to stay away from me.” Spinning on his heel, he bolts and she follows. “Please don’t leave,” she begs, managing to snag him by the arm.
Whipping around, he bends so he can meet her gaze. “Leave me alone!” he growls in her face. “Do not follow me, don’t come and see me, and do not come near me again!”
Sniper pushes him away from her. The rage in his eyes palpable on a scary level. “I hate to say it, mate, but you’re a fucking idiot. Sod off!”
George watches as Sniper cocoons Charlotte in his arms as she cries, “I’m so sorry, Ike. I’m so sorry. I messed it all up.”
I’m seeing red, I’m so angry. “No you didn’t,” I try to comfort her. “He’s an idiot. I’m sorry he did this.”
“George, you better go,” Charlotte’s father suggests before taking Charlotte from Sniper and leading her toward the house. Charlotte, so lost in her pain, doesn’t seem to notice who has her. God, I did this to her. She’s crushed. We both knew George would have a hard time accepting the truth, but he’s acting like a fucking psycho.
Charlotte makes it up the stairs with the help of her father when George shouts, “Charlotte!” She turns and acknowledges him, her face puffy from crying. “I want to know if he got my last email.”
He’s testing her. He wants to see if she’s the real deal. “You’re a real dick for not asking her that first before freaking out on her,” I tell him, even though he can’t hear me. Charlotte’s gaze moves to mine, waiting for me to answer, eager for a chance to prove herself to him.
I glare at George but stop when I see the pain on his face. “Damn it,” I sigh. “He told me he missed me and said he couldn’t wait to have me come home.” She nods and repeats the words and everyone is silent as George stares back at her.
“I’m telling the truth, George. I can see him right now,” she whispers. “You’re both handsome, look a lot alike, but he’s a little bigger. He has amazing brown eyes, very soft, but yours are darker. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”
George doesn’t respond. A single tear falls down his cheek and after a moment, he turns and heads for his bike. And Charlotte sobs uncontrollably as we all watch him take off.
“Are you all right?” my father asks as he holds me tight. I can’t help the way I lash out at him.
“Do you care? Looks like he believed I’m a nut job, just like you wanted,” I cry.
My father’s arms drop from around me just as Beverly approaches and pulls me back in the living room. “I’m sorry about George’s reaction, dear. This is a little surprising to all of us,” she states softly.
“I believe you, Char,” Cameron pipes in as he thumbs through a Playboy. In a flash, Beverly snaps the magazine from his hands and smacks him upside the head with it. “Jesus, Ma,” Cameron laughs as he scratches his head.
“Ike McDermott, I can’t believe you had these,” she says, and my heart stills. She believes me. She believes he’s here. My eyes dart over to Ike and he smiles softly at me. “Is he here . . . right now, Charlotte?” Beverly asks, and when I meet her gaze, I see hope.
“He is,” I answer in a husky voice.
I spend the next two hours communicating Ike’s words to his family. By the end, we’re all crying again. My father left at some point, which I’m highly grateful for. Henry and Beverly hug me tightly, both thanking me a hundred times over.
“Will he crossover now?” Henry asks; his eyes shiny with fresh tears.
“Soon. If he thinks George is okay . . . then probably very soon.”