Page 69 of What He Doesn't Know

When I pulled out of Reese’s development, I yanked the car over to the side of the road, shoved my door open, and puked.

Reese

There were only a few nights in my life that I wished for sleep so badly, only because I knew whatever I dreamed would be better than my reality.

One of those nights had been after my family passed, and that constant ache, that persistent desire to be anywhere else and anyoneelse was exactly what I felt as I laid in the broken-down fort Charlie and I had built.

My eyes lost focus on the ceiling above, the small part of it I could see from where one sheet had fallen down in Charlie’s haste to leave. I’d abandoned the wine and pulled out an old bottle of bourbon, sipping straight from the bottle until almost three in the morning when I realized I needed to try to sober up. I had to teach in four hours.

I had to see her in four hours.

See her, and not touch her. And look into those torturous eyes of hers knowing she regretted kissing me.

I made a pot of coffee somewhere around four and force-fed myself eight pieces of toast in an effort to soak up the night’s damages — both the booze and the energy. I debated calling out, but I couldn’t. Even if I knew it would hurt, I had to see her.

I had to try to talk to her.

My drive to school was slow as I ticked through what I would say to her in my mind. I wanted so desperately to make her understand, to make her open her eyes and see that what she felt with me was real. But it was like trying to solve a math equation with half of the numbers missing — I could argue our points, our history, the chemistry between us, but I couldn’t account for the years she’d given herself to Cameron.

He was the variable, and I didn’t know what weight he truly held.

By the time I made it to Westchester, I was so anxious to see Charlie I practically bolted from my car and sprinted across campus to her room. I didn’t have long before we’d be separated by hallways and students for the rest of the day, and the thought of not being able to talk to her beforehand was enough to drive me mad.

I couldn’t get a grip on any of the thoughts flying through my head. Part of me realized I was being selfish, that I was hurting her by touching her, by opening her up to the possibility of me. She was fine before I showed up in her life again. She was happy.

But the bigger part of me knew that was complete bullshit.

Charlie had been a shell of herself the morning I’d started at Westchester. She hadn’t expected me, just as I hadn’t even thought of the possibility of her coming back into my life again. I’d assumed she was married and moved away, and though one part of that assumption was true, it didn’t change how I felt for her.

With every minute I spent with her, with every passing day, I saw a bit of the old Charlie come back. And maybe it was selfish, maybe it was wrong — but I wanted all of her back again. I wanted all of her to be mine.

Still, everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I’d say slipped from me like sand between my fingers when I rounded the corner into Charlie’s classroom and saw her standing there.

She was looking over a stack of lesson plans in her hands, and she looked up slowly when she noticed me at her door, like she already knew I was coming. Her eyes were even puffier than the day before, all the crying and lack of sleep shading the skin beneath them a dark purple.

She nearly broke at the sight of me, her face crumpling, shoulders slouching forward as if I’d disappointed her by showing up.

“Charlie,” I started, moving into her classroom without a second thought. I rushed straight up to her, my hands reaching for hers, but she stepped back just as quick, nearly falling over the small trashcan next to her desk.

I went to steady her, but she held up her hands to warn me not to touch her.

“Don’t. Reese, damn it, why are you here?”

“We have to talk about last night.”

“No, we don’t,” she argued, slapping the papers down on her desk with a frustrated sigh. “I told you, it was a mistake. I was tired and drunk and—”

“Please, don’t do that.” I shook my head, sniffing back my emotions. “I know you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” she lied, her voice cracking. “I do, okay? Please, you need to go. You have to stay away from me.”

“Ican’t. Don’t you see that? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” my voice faded off and my fists tightened at my sides as I tried to find the right words.

What was I sorry for? What did I do that I wouldn’t do again right now, if she just gave me the green light?

“Exactly. You shouldn’t have.Weshouldn’t have. Can’tyousee that I’m drowning in guilt right now?” Her eyes flooded with tears, but she wouldn’t blink to let them loose. “I’m married, Reese. That’s all there is to it. I don’t get to run out on him and find comfort in you, and you don’t get to have me.”

Something about the way she said those words, about the finality of them, about the way she wouldn’t look me in the eyes snapped what little resolve I had left. My desperate need to make her understand went up in smoke, leaving only a charred anger underneath it.