Page 14 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas

The moment his last lecture of the day ends, Thomas is rushing to pack up his things, wanting nothing more than to get home to his bedroom and away from everything and everyone.

It’s been almost two weeks since Charlie left him heartbroken on his doorstep.

Thomas wonders if the wedding is this week or the next—Charlie never told him the date.

Charlie could already be married for all he knows.

It’s strange to be jealous of a girl he’s never met, but he despises Ruthie with every bone in his body.

Ruthie, who gets to be lawfully joined to Charlie, gets to share his bed, his home, his life—everything that should be his.

The hatred running through his veins is vicious and vengeful, and Thomas suspects he will never be the person he was before.

He is agitated from the moment he wakes up in the morning, snapping at everyone and irritated by everything, and at night he struggles to sleep, images of Charlie and some faceless girl taunting him every time he closes his eyes.

The worst part is that he can’t even share his pain with anyone.

It’s his secret to bear, and to bear alone.

How is he going to walk this earth for the next sixty years pretending to be someone he’s not? How will he ever be able to marry someone he doesn’t love? In his darkest moments, Thomas wonders if perhaps he is not fit for this world at all.

He heads out of the lecture hall and down the busy corridor, not stopping until he’s stepping out into the late afternoon sun. Thomas holds a hand up to shield his eyes and his heart stops. He blinks once, twice, then gasps.

Charlie.

Thomas attempts to wrangle in his emotions.

It cannot be, and yet—yes, he’s sure! There, standing only fifty feet away, is his Charlie.

He’s facing away, but Thomas would recognize him anywhere.

As he watches, Charlie blows out a puff of smoke, then drops his cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with a firm twist of his foot.

Perhaps sensing eyes on him, he turns around and—

“Dear Jesus.”

Even at this distance, Thomas can see there are deep blue and yellow bruises covering Charlie’s face, and his left arm is in a sling.

Charlie spots him then and, unbelievably, he smiles. Thomas wants to sob. Who has done this to Charlie’s handsome face? To his precious body? Instinctively, he knows it must be Charlie’s father, and his stomach sinks at the implication.

Only when Charlie starts walking toward him does Thomas break out of his daze and remember he’s not rooted to the spot.

He strides forward, too, and they meet in the middle of the quad, merely a foot apart.

Other students are now streaming out of the surrounding buildings, and it requires all of Thomas’s willpower not to take Charlie into his arms and hold him close to his chest.

“Charlie,” he breathes, examining his battered face.

One eye is black and swollen, and there is more bruising on his cheek and across the bridge of his nose.

His lip has been split open and still looks tender and raw.

Then he notices Charlie’s neck and his blood runs cold, goosebumps erupting across his skin.

Deep bruises in the shape of fingers form a vile pattern around Charlie’s throat.

It mutes the relief Thomas feels seeing Charlie again, overshadowing it with an uncontrollable rage.

“Hey, Red.”

Charlie’s tentative voice cuts through his anger, and Thomas looks, truly looks, into Charlie’s blue eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

“I called off the wedding. My pops didn’t like it, but . . . I’m fuckin’ alive,” Charlie says, as if it’s nothing. “So, guess that makes me single if ya know anyone who’s interested.” Charlie tilts his head to one side, his smile flirty yet coy.

Even though this is no laughing matter, Thomas can’t help the responding smile that spreads across his face. Charlie has called off the wedding. Charlie isn’t married! Charlie has come back to him. His eyes flicker back to Charlie’s throat and the smile dies on his lips.

“Charlie, you can’t live with your father anymore. Are those . . . are those bruises around your neck what I think they are?” Thomas leans in and whispers angrily, “I want to fucking kill him.”

“You don’t gotta worry, Red. I ain’t living there no more. A man I work with—Jerry—he’s letting me rent out his spare bedroom. He and the missus are saving up for a better place and need the extra dough.”

That brings Thomas some relief. “And what happened to your arm?”

“It’s broken.” Charlie shrugs. “Got a busted rib, too, but it’s gettin’ better.

Been ten days since it happened. They got me doing paperwork at the garage ’til I’m back to my old self.

” Charlie clears his throat, eyes darting away nervously.

“Was hopin’ you weren’t still steamed at me.

Was wondering if I could take you down to that diner for a milkshake or somethin’? ”

Thomas is still troubled by what Charlie has been through, and he feels only blind fury when considers that it was Charlie’s own good-for-nothing father who caused him such pain, but there’s no denying that he’s happy. There’s still a chance for them after all.

“What made you change your mind?”

Charlie looks down at their feet, voice growing gruff. “You know what changed my mind, Red. Don’t make me say it.”

“Tell me,” he whispers, tapping the toe of his shoe to Charlie’s. “Please.”

Charlie checks over his shoulder to be sure no one is in hearing range before speaking. “Because I . . . because I think I love you, too, Tommy O’Reilly.”

A smile breaks across Thomas’s face, but then just as fast a shuddering gasp and a tear follow as relief floods his body. He wasn’t crazy, Charlie feels it too. “That’s good,” he says, “because I know I love you, my darling.”

Charlie’s eyes widen, his eyebrows shooting high at the term of endearment, but Thomas won’t take it back.

“Ay, quit it with that pansy stuff. I ain’t nobody’s darlin’.”

The words are harsh, but Charlie’s voice is soft. So too is the hand that reaches up and brushes the tear from Thomas’s cheek.

“You sure about that?” Thomas teases. “Because I think you’re mine.”

“You’re too sweet, Red.” Charlie smirks, but then his face suddenly grows serious. “I don’t know how we hide this, Tommy. Don’t know how long we can have this . . . this thing between us.”

Thomas doesn’t know either, but he will sacrifice anything to be with Charlie.

Anything. Reaching out, he places a hand on the back of Charlie’s neck, his thumb briefly stroking across the exposed skin before he lets his hand fall away.

He takes a step back to put a more respectable distance between them but keeps their eyes locked.

“We’ll find a way, Charlie. We’ll find a way.”