Big tears start to roll down Charlotte’s face. “I’m sorry . . . I can’t . . . I can’t do this with you.”
Fuck. I want to bash myself in the head. I’m taking out all my anger on her and showing my cards at the same time.
I suck at this.
And here I’m supposed to be flattering her and building her trust.
Diffuse the situation, I order myself as I try to control my wobbling knees. I’ve hit a nerve, and I’m about to lose access to Charlotte permanently. I think of what’s at stake and how my father will never speak to me again if I mess this up.
“This is why I stick close to my home and stay away from all of this.” Charlotte waves her hand at the surroundings. “Because I can’t escape from the court of public opinion.”
“I wasn’t trying to suggest—”
“Yes, you absolutely were.” She strides past me to the car. “Sounds like you have your mind made up about what I am.” Spinning around, she says, “You know, you and Courtney have a lot in common. You are both mean girls, Elle. You just try to use your wrong-side-of-the-tracks persona as a reason you get to act the way you do.”
“I’m not trying to judge you,” I huff. “That’s my point. Not everything is always as it seems. I didn’t start shit with Courtney, just because that’s what she and her friends said. I’m innocent in this. Well, not entirely, because I hit her, but I wasn’t the one who started it.”
“Normal teenage behavior isn’t starting fights at school.” Her voice drips acid. “Nor is it stealing someone’s personal property.” She opens her door with a ferocious intensity. “You are a real piece of work, Elizabeth Laughlin.”
Shaking her head, she slams the door in my face.
If I don’t jump in the car, I will have lost my chance to make things right with Charlotte, if I even can. If she refuses to speak to me, I’ll be at a dead end and I’ll never uncover the truth. I have no doubt I will be cut off from her permanently.
When Charlotte is untrusting of you, it’s over.
And she doesn’t need me. I need her.
“Here goes nothing,” I groan. I jog around to the opposite side and hop in.
“No, no you don’t.” She turns to face me with swollen eyes. “Did you ever think that maybe I have a very good reason for why I carry a gun? And yet, you stole it from me.”
“What’re you talking about?”
She ignores my question. “Better yet,” she seethes, “maybe I was hurt before in the past? Maybe I’m in danger? Maybe a restraining order didn’t help, and he put me through a wall?”
I’m chilled to the bone as the pupils of her eyes dilate.
“You know nothing about my life,” Charlotte says coldly. “And I know nothing about yours. Minus the fact that since you showed up, drama seems to follow you everywhere.”
Ashamed, I stare at my ripped cuticles. “You think I took your gun?”
“Elizabeth, you’re smarter than this. Don’t play dumb. My gun was in the glove box, and then it disappeared. Now I don’t have any protection, and, oddly enough, it was found near the scene of my robbery.”
“You can’t think I had something to do with it?”
“You’re telling me it’s a mere coincidence?”
Solemnly, I say, “I swear on my unborn child’s life I did not take your gun, Charlotte.”
As she presses her eyes shut, I watch a tear slide down her cheek.
“I want to hear your story, Charlotte. Not just what I read. Your ex. What did he do?”
“Wonderful! I’m glad you want to hear it, considering I don’t want to talk about it.” She wrings her hands in her lap. “Shame on you. You have no right to come into my life and dictate what I tell you or don’t. You don’t get to try and hurt me because you’ve read some articles and are now an expert on everything Charlotte.” Then, murmuring, “I’ve got to get to class,” she rests a hand on her stomach. “Where can I drop you off?”
“Please don’t make me go back to Diane’s,” I whimper. “I know I messed up today, but the baby—”
“Why not? She’s your foster parent and has a right to know about your expulsion.”
“She does not.”
“You can’t run from everything, Elle.”
“I’m not running, I’m fleeing,” I grumble. “Diane’s a drunken, sloppy train wreck.”
“Then how is she your foster mom?”
“Because the system doesn’t care. No one wants me,” I spit out. “The government pays her a monthly stipend to take me off their hands.”
Charlotte recoils like I slapped her. “Stop playing the victim, Elle.”
I reach for her hand, and it’s ice cold. She doesn’t even wipe the tears away; she just lets them roll down, the collar of her shirt damp.
“Charlotte, I believe you.” I squeeze her limp hand in mine. “I wasn’t trying to make an accusation or say I didn’t think you were telling the truth.”
“It doesn’t matter about your opinion.” Her voice is harsh. “A court of law did, and it makes no difference if you believe me or not. I was there, and you weren’t.” Her eyes meet mine, and I see unchecked pain that sears me to the core.
I feel like shit.
Absolute shit.
The reading on my asshole meter keeps rising.
Why did I ever think Charlotte was a bad person?
Because he told you she was, I remind myself. Starting to feel like a puppet on a string, I want to go berserk and yank the cord.
“What possible motivation could I have for wanting to hurt my unborn child, the only innocent person in this?” Snot drips down her nose, and I feel a protective rush as I grab a tissue out of the box balanced on the back window.
“I’m sorry.” I chew my lip. “Charlotte, you’re the first person I’ve had to talk to in a long time, and I just want to know about you. I shouldn’t have questioned you like that with what I found. It was stupid, but you seem so scared of something and so guarded, and I want to know why.”
CHAPTER 36
Charlotte
“I don’t know you, Elle.” I wipe a tear away. “You were a complete stranger until a couple of months ago.”
“Yeah, I know.” She slumps down in her seat. “I just wanted to ask you questions about your life, but I went about it all wrong.”
I start the car and put it in reverse. “I don’t know what’s so fascinating about mine, or why you seem to have so many questions.”
Elle leans forward, her head in her hands.
“Noah and I, before this happened, wanted to ask a huge favor of you, but I don’t think it makes sense anymore . . .”
“What?” she whispers.
I don’t answer, my concentration on driving. “Where are we going?” I ask instead. “I’m running late now.”
“Can you drop me off at your house?”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“When can we talk?”
“Elle, we have been.”
“No, I’ve been taking out my anger on you. Directing it at the wrong person. Trying to make you feel shitty.”