Page 47 of Threads That Bind Us
“I apologize if I overstepped,” Charlie says, taking a step back and giving me some space.
I realize the tears I’ve been trying to hold back all day are finally falling, and I wipe them away with a laugh.
“No, you didn’t,” I promise, taking a step closer to the desk.
A few of my personal belongings lay on top. A framed photo of me and Ana at her thirteenth birthday party. The mother’s day card she made in the fifth grade that had the wordmotherscratched out and replaced withsister. The shot glass, one of a pair, that Kenzie and I stole from the fancy nightclub in Baltimore on my twenty-first birthday.
My grandmother’s watch, cracked and bloodstained. My vampire book.
“This is a very kind gift, Charlie,” I say on a breath, turning back toward him. “It means a lot.”
He smiles, and I feel it sink into my bones.
Chapter 16
Gwen
The last two weeks have been hell. I feel like I’m descending into some sort of madness.
No matter how early I get up, Charlie’s always gone, and I have no idea how he leaves without waking me. I’m tempted every single time to reach across this massive bed, to touch the indent in his pillow and see if it’s still warm. But I don’t, because I’m neither in a Hallmark movie nor fucking insane.
Ana’s been home, joining her classes virtually whenever she can and sleeping as much as possible. I spend a lot of time trying to give her space, sitting behind the desk Charlie set up for me, staring at the empty shelves.
When Ana’s done with school, and when she’s feeling up for it, I text Zane and he takes us wherever we ask. Movies, walking trails, less popular Smithsonians we’ve never gotten around to visiting. Or we sit on the couch and scroll through the seemingly endless movies and shows Charlie’s downloaded.
There’s something so normal about our routine that I would be just fine if it weren’t for the evenings.
It’s like Charlie’s proximity fucks with my cognitive function. He walks through the door sometime before six every night, and suddenly I’m reminding myself to blink at a normal rate. He and Ana cook together, she tells us about school, he talks about lawyer things I barely understand, we eat, I act like an alien trying to convince everyone they’re human. I’ve taken on cleaning up after dinner while Charlie and Ana do SAT and ACT prep and review the Carnegie Mellon application. I brainstorm ways not to be in the same room as him until after he falls asleep.
It’s so fucking ridiculous. You get horny while torturing someone with a guyone timeand all of a sudden you can’t function around him?
Charlie hasn’t brought up the night at the farm again. We went back down into that basement three times. I mostly observed, watching how Charlie evaluated Kayden, the strategic way he timed his blows. After, he passed information to Emily, and they discussed strategies to suss out how far up in the organization the rot had climbed. But when we finally left, Emily half asleep on the couch, Kayden was very much still alive.
I doubt that’s the case now.
I find myself thinking about it constantly. The feeling of balance with that knife in my hand. The calm control it gave me, so different from the rage-fueled decision to kill Bryan.
Ana sometimes says that when she’s sitting in front of a sewing machine, the world around her disappears. Every sound other than the quiet, rhythmic hum of the machine fades into the background, and her hands move without conscious instruction. She justfeels it.
I think I finally understand what she means.
And I’d probably be able to handle that, process what thismeans about who I am, if it wasn’t for whatever the fuck is happening to my nervous system.
Ever since that afternoon, I’ve been a string pulled too taut, a rubber band ready to snap. It’s not fair to him at all—it’s not like he knew teaching me would have this effect. But now I can’t help but read into every touch, every glance. I catch him looking at me in the mirror while I brush my teeth, and my brain spirals, convincing myself there’s longing in his eyes. We lay in his giant king bed, an empty space double the size of my body between us, and I have to remind myself the tension is imagined. That every slight movement he makes isn’t meant to bring him closer to me. That he doesn’twantmy touch.
The passing attraction I felt for him when we met at Catalina’s used to be manageable, especially considering how advantageous our agreement is. But now it’s tormenting me.
I’m exhausted, and I know Ana can tell. I’ve done everything in my power to make sure she knows it’s not her fault, but it’s not like I can explain the truth.
I’m convinced that’s why she’s begging me to send her back to school.
“I’ve missed so much class right before AP testing, I don’t even know how I’m going to pass. And what if I don’t make softball captain next year? My resume is going to suck for Carnegie,” she whines, pushing her food around her plate.
“Your resume isn’t going to suck,” Charlie says, kicking her gently under the table.
She rolls her eyes with a tiny grimace but keeps staring at her plate
“Admissions committees are understanding of circumstances like this,” I add, but it doesn’t seem to help. Ana doesn’t say anything, but her jaw clenches and her cheeks burn. I feel lost, like I’m navigating this all wrong.