Page 46 of Threads That Bind Us

As excitedas she is to tear into new projects, Ana’s also exhausted. The burst of adrenaline she got from her surprise is quickly dwindling, and we make quick work of the pho that Zane drops off. We eat on the couch, Ana curled up under a blanket with her bowl on her belly, as Charlie asks about the projects she wants to work on for her portfolio.

“All right,” I say, stretching and grabbing her bowl from her lap before it spills. “Time for bed.”

Ana just nods, flinching as she accidentally brushes her side with the blanket. Charlie grabs the bowls from my hands and nods.

“I got this. You guys go ahead.”

I try to let all the gratefulness I feel seep into my smile before I help Ana up off the couch.

“Come on, let’s go find our pajamas,” I say, letting her lead me down the hall toward her room. When we get to the two doors at the end, she turns toward hers and I start to open the second spare.

“Where are you going?” she asks, standing under her doorway with a look of sleepy confusion on her face.

I look at her, and then into the spare room. It’s got the same high-end yet basic furniture that Ana’s room had when I stayed in it that first night.

“Umm…” I start, trying to figure out what in the world possessed me to think that my belongings would be in the second spare room.

Ana laughs, sparing me from coming up with a response.

“You don’t have to pretend you sleep in separate rooms. I’m not that naïve.” She turns and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t be weird about it, though!” she calls through the door.

Charlie’s chuckle from the end of the hall startles me, and I turn to him, a little shell-shocked.

“I have no explanation for what just happened,” I say, arms raised in defeat.

Charlie just laughs again, and the sound settles like something warm and familiar.

“You can sleep in the spare room, if you’d like,” Charlie says, a small, slightly sad smile on his face. “Or I can switch the office to this side of the hall and you can make your own room next to mine.”

The offer is sweet, and I nearly laugh at the fact that this is the same man that I thought was blackmailing me into sex weeks ago.

“No, it’s okay. She’d figure it out in a second if we weren’t in thesame room. If you’re all right with it, I’m sure we can figure out how to share.”

There’s a quick beat, a flicker of some sort of strange camaraderie, and for a second my desire seems manageable. Because if I’m being totally honest with myself, most people aren’t lucky enough to have someone in their lives who is in their corner. And Charlie’s in mine.

He clears his throat, crossing his arms and looking at his feet.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, too,” he says, his ears red and voice nervous.

“You really did enough, more than I ever could have asked for,” I reply, trying to repress my smile. I don’t think I’ve seen Charlie anything other than confident and self-assured since that first night at Catalina’s.

“Come on,” he says, tugging at my arm and leading me down the hall toward his room—ourroom.

My pulse climbs, thinking about him lying next to me in bed, nearly touching, but not close enough.

But he doesn’t lead me to the bedroom. Instead, he pushes open the door to the office and steps aside. The room looks split in two. One side has a desk against the wall that’s covered in neatly organized files and folders, a laptop open on the edge. Bookshelves line the walls to either side, filled with the memorabilia of dozens of stories, faded photos of a group of kids near a glimmering ocean, books with well-worn spines. A heavy chair sits behind the desk, dark leather faded, with a checkered blanket draped over the back.

The other side has the same furniture, same layout, but everything is empty. The leather on the chair is crisp and new, and the blanket is the one that used to be draped over the end of my bed. But otherwise, it’s identical.

“What’s this?” I ask, stepping into the room. The last bit ofsunlight is peeking over the rooftops of the outbuildings through the window. There would be a beautiful view of the wildflowers from here in the spring.

“Our office,” Charlie says simply, standing next to me, arms nearly touching. “I know so much about Ana. Her dreams and her ambitions, what she likes and hates. And I feel like I know so little about you.” His voice is calm, comforting, like the sound of rainfall on a roof. “At first I thought I hadn’t been listening, or asking the right questions. And while that’s part of it, maybe you don’t know those things about yourself either.”

I try to make my expression incredulous when I turn to him, but I think he can see the vulnerability in my eyes, how close to home he’s hit.

“You have been Ana’s sister, her mother, and her protector for so long. You’ve spent so much of your time making sure she has the world. I think you’ve lost sight of yourself. So I wanted to give you the opportunity to find yourself again.” He gestures at my side of the office, but I can’t look away from his face. “Take classes, become a potter, or a gardener, or a blacksmith. Fill the shelves up with pictures, or books, or those creepy porcelain dolls. Try a thousand things and hate them all until you love something. And then tell me about it.”

There’s this tightness in my chest that borders on pain. I love being Ana’s sister, her parent-figure. While I’ve never resented her for even a second, there have been moments where I wonder who I would have been if I’d had the time and freedom to find myself. Now I’m standing here, in this office, being given the opportunity to do so. And I don’t know how I got this lucky, stumbling into a frat-filled bar on a random Friday night.