Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
A groove digs into my forehead. “Would he pick himself over you? Over me?”
“No. But over some people, definitely. Friends even. But not the ones he loves. He’d give the shirt off his back for us.”
I smile against his chest. “He loves us?”
“Are you kidding me? He’s head over heels for you, Charlie. And I think he cares about me, yeah. I think he’d always have my back.”
I sit up, my gaze drifting in Will’s direction. He’s fast asleep.
“So Will is ruthless but selfless. He’s a gentleman and an animal. What else?”
“He’s intense.”
“That I know.”
“He smiles to hide the intensity, but it’s inside him. He’s ambitious, but he doesn’t want to be because he thinks it makes him like his dad. So he pretends he doesn’t have this innate drive to succeed in anything.”
God. Beckett is perceptive.
I curl up beside him again, reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers. “Okay. How about me? Tell me about myself, all-knowing one.”
He brushes his lips over my forehead. “You’re the strongest, most fragile person I know.”
I laugh. “Impossible. There’s this thing called the law of contradiction.”
“Huh?”
“Fundamental principle of logic. Basically, it’s a law that states a proposition can’t be true and false at the same time and in the same sense.”
“So…an oxymoron?”
“Sure, if you want to use the commoner’s term for it,” I say in a haughty voice.
He chuckles. “Another truth about you—you’re not a snob, even though you sometimes pretend to be.”
“What else, smart-ass?”
“You’re a perfectionist.”
“Duh.”
“Because you’re scared of not being good enough for your family.”
I falter. “Wh-what?”
“That’s why you push yourself so hard. You’re always trying to be perfect, because you think if you slip up even once, your family won’t love you as much.”
My heart clenches, his words hitting me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“What else?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“When you’re in Charlotte mode, you never let yourself relax, and you’re always on guard. You’ve spent your whole life trying to prove you’re worth loving.”
Every single word is like a tiny, precise blade cutting into truths I’ve always buried deep, under all the achievements and smiles. My eyes feel hot, stinging. I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat won’t budge.
“I…” I blink back the tears, but it’s too late.
They spill over, streaming down my cheeks as a sob chokes my throat.
Beckett curses when he realizes what’s happening. He sits up in alarm, pulling me onto his lap. “Charlie. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
The tears keep falling, and I hate it. I hate how vulnerable I feel. I hate how he just drew all these fears out into the open and forced me to look at them.
“I’m sorry.” Misery rings in his voice. “I’m a fucking idiot. I’m not good at this shit. Not anymore. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”
Another sob racks my body.
“Please stop crying, baby.” He’s begging me now.
The commotion jolts Will awake. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
The deep concern swimming in his eyes shatters something inside me. I cry even harder, my chest heaving as the sobs I’ve been holding back for so long break free. It’s too much. Too much truth. Too much vulnerability.
Beckett holds me tighter. “It’s my fault,” he tells Will. “I said some dumb shit.”
“No,” I mumble through a sheen of tears. “You were right. Everything you said…it’s all true.”
Will sinks down beside us, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. It’s odd, the way he grounds me, makes me feel safe. Beckett does too, but in a different way. I trust Beckett wholeheartedly, but he doesn’t necessarily ground me. If anything, he makes me soar.
“I love my parents,” I whisper as the tears finally begin to subside. “So much. And I know they love me. But being adopted messes with your head sometimes, especially when you’re a kid. I know it’s irrational. They’ve never given me a single reason to doubt their love. But I remember lying awake some nights, especially if I did something bad, like stole a cookie and then lied about it or some other trivial bullshit—I’d lie there terrified that they’d come into my room and tell me it was time to go back.”
Will rests his chin on my shoulder, pressing a kiss to it. “I’m sorry. That sounds brutal.”
I gulp through the lump in my throat. The memories trigger a fresh rush of tears.
Me at age six, my clothes all dirty, clinging to my mom after I ran through the muddy playground when she ordered me not to.
Clutching her hand, desperate for reassurance. Asking her if she was going to give me back now because I was bad.
And then the relief that washed over me when she held me close and whispered that I was her forever daughter.
I hadn’t realized I was still carrying so many of those childhood fears, and I bury my face in Beckett’s neck, battling the tears while he strokes my hair and Will holds me steady.