Page 44 of Threads That Bind Us

Charlie enters the house behind the movers, observing their work with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. It’s not like I haven’t seen him dressed casually, but something about jeans and a t-shirt looks so domestic on him it has me in this weird, hormone-induced trance.

He catches my gaze, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he pulls the door shut behind him. I feel heat creeping up my neck and turn away without smiling back.

I had really hoped whatever insanity had overcome me while torturing Kayden would be contained to that room. But while it isn’t as potent, I still feel his fingertips dragging over my knuckles when I’m tryingto fall asleep.

I focus on the show, not understanding half of what’s going on, as Charlie joins us on the couch.

“What’s with the boxes?” I ask.

Partners, maybe friends, I remind myself as my skin buzzes with his proximity. It’s been like this every time we’re anywhere near each other this week, and it’s driving me fucking insane.

“A surprise, for later,” he replies, and when I look over at him, he smiles and nods at Ana, who isn’t paying any attention to us. She seems to be caught up in her own mind, which is fair, seeing as it’s her last day of treatment.

Even though it’ll be a few months before we do follow-up scans and confirm that the treatment worked, her oncologist has been optimistic. And being done with radiation feels like something to celebrate.

Ana’s exhaustion has only gotten worse, though, and she’s barely wanted to eat after treatment, much less do anything fun. But her spirits seem up today.

She has a small grin the entire drive to the hospital, her fingers tapping to the beat of the music blasting through her headphones.

“You’re staring at her,” Charlie whispers as we turn off the highway. He’s been quiet the whole trip, but I could feel his eyes on me.

“Yeah, I know,” I reply, watching Ana close her eyes and lean her head against the window. Charlie’s hand squeezes mine in my lap.

“You did a really great job,” he says.

My answering smile is a little pained. “She did all the hard work,” I argue.

“I didn’t mean with the treatment, though you handled that well, too.” He squeezes my hand again and I finally tearmy eyes away from my sister. “I meant with raising her. She’s a good kid, and that’s because of you.”

I barely hold back the tears welling in my eyes as I look back at her in the rearview. She’s strong and funny and brilliant, and while most of that was the luck of the draw, I can’t help but to be proud of my part in the person she’s become.

“She could have been raised by wolves and would have turned out this good,” I say, brushing off the compliment. But Charlie doesn’t let it go.

“She’s got someone in her life who loves her so much, they would go to the ends of the earth and back for her. That’s not nothing, Gwen.”

Charlie pulls into the closest parking space we can find, and Ana barely waits for the car to stop before she’s opening her door.

“Ready for your finale?” I ask, looping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her tight against me. She wraps her arms around me, nearly tripping over my feet.

“As long as there’s no encore,” she sighs.

When we get checked in and upstairs, Dr. Mya is standing in the waiting room, a huge smile plastered on their face. I haven’t seen them since Ana’s last pre-treatment appointment, but they’ve been sending me updates on Ana’s progress.

“Banana!” they call out, and Ana huffs a laugh under her breath. “Congratulations on your last day!”

The other techs and nurses I recognize from the last few weeks gather around Ana, telling her how well she did and how proud they are of her. Charlie and I hang back, letting her have this moment with the people who took care of her.

I notice a few of the staff giving Charlie a double take, glancing at him when Ana’s preoccupied with someone else. Without thinking, I take a step toward him, angling my body so we’re nearly touching.

“Territorial,” he says under his breath, putting his hand on my hip and gently pulling me closer.

Heat climbs up my chest, but I scoff, trying to play it off.

“I am notterritorial, it’s just rude,” I argue, but he’s not wrong.

It strikes me that Charlie and I have absolutely no agreement about seeing other people. That he could be getting these kinds of looks from any and everyone, entertaining them, looking at them with desire. I hate myself for caring.

“They don’t know that this is fake.”