so much anguish. I couldn’t put his death to rest.
And that was that realization, that was the moment my walls crumbled around me, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I paced for what felt like hours, and then I just…couldn’t anymore.
I picked up the phone and demanded company.
An hour later there was pounding on the front door. It was nine at night and I had successfully put Penny to bed despite a hard day teething. I was in my pyjamas – had been in them all day – when I answered the door. My hair was up in a messy bun, my eyes were heavy with unshed tears.
I was so, so tired.
Jem looked at me with annoyance.
“You pulled me from my bar, Charlotte,” he huffed. “This better be fucking good.”
He stormed past me and into the house. He strolled like he owned the place, throwing his car keys down on the entry table before turning to look at me. He looked tired too, and leaner than usual. He was wearing a leather jacket and worn jeans. His hair needed a cut and he was sporting a five o’clock shadow.
“You look rough,” I stated, my voice sounded scratched to shit. I felt like it had been years since I’d used it on someone real.
He made a point to look me over too. “You aren’t looking your Sunday best either, sweetheart.”
He said sweetheart in the most non-endearing way. Typical Jem.
“I know,” I agreed. I went to the couch and fell into it. I glimpsed at the baby monitor on the coffee table, at Penny’s sleeping form.
“What’s going on?” he pressed, and I could sense he was itching to leave.
“I don’t know,” I answered, feeling all kinds of messed up.
“You pulled me out of work because you don’t know?”
I ran a hand down my face, exasperated. “I’ve been with Penny all day long. I haven’t had a single break. I haven’t even breathed.”
He glanced at the monitor. “She’s asleep now.”
“Only just.”
“Megan offered to help you out if you felt overwhelmed.”
“Megan works night shifts, and then she’s down most of the day.”
“Put her in a daycare.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Hire a babysitter.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
He looked just as over it. “Charlotte, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I miss him.”
Jem went quiet. He turned his back to me and paced the room for a bit, letting out a long sigh. I watched him, feeling extremely tethered to his presence. I needed more human contact, but not just any kind of human contact. I needed someone with callouses and a brutal tongue. I needed vicious honesty, and not sympathetic tones.
I needed someone like Conor around.
Finally, Jem stopped and levelled me with a stern look. I knew what he was about to say wasn’t going to be pretty. I braced myself.
“You act like he’s dead, but he ain’t. It’s pathetic.”
I blinked, feeling like I’d been slapped. “He feels dead to me, Jem.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
I sat up now, glaring at him. “He might as well be. He won’t let me see him.”
“Because he wants you to move on.”
“He can’t make that decision!”
Jem threw his arms up. “Well, I guess he fucking did, didn’t he?”
Tears stung my eyes. I hated Jem right then, but I still didn’t want him to go. I knew deep inside I needed to be set straight. I was hovering over a pit of blackness. If I slipped, I’d be swallowed into depression. I had to find my way back to safety.
“Look,” Jem said, “I’m going back to the bar to close. If you need something – like genuinely fucking need something – you let me know. But don’t drag me here because you want to talk feelings, okay? I got better shit to deal with.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” I mocked.
He faked a smile. “Honey, this is just the tip of the iceberg. I can be a real stunner when I want to be.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “So be it.”
Jem just looked at me for several moments, blinking slow. He looked like he was trying to figure me out, but he couldn’t, because not even I could figure myself out.
“What are you doing?” he asked, intrigued. “Honestly, you want to be punished, Charlotte? You want me to hurt you with words? You want to feel something again?”
I swallowed and looked away, unable to meet his hard-blue eyes. “I’m dangling over something scary, Jem. I’m scared of losing control.”
“You need to see your doctor.”
“Goddammit,” I seethed, raking a hand through my hair. “This isn’t