Cruel Trust

Fifteen

It's been a week, and I have finally checked out of the hospital. And it's a good thing too, because I was having major cabin fever. I have to say, though, Dr. Evans has been amazing. She kept me so long so that she could wean me off the Zoloft, and she started me on Wellbutrin instead.

Emotionally, though, I couldn't help but hold a significant amount of hatred for Liam because of what he had done. How dare he overmedicate me and take advantage of my trust? If I never saw him again, it would be a moment too soon.

"I can't make you, and I can't do it for you," she had told me, "but I would really, really recommend reporting him. Charlotte. What if he does this to someone else? I guarantee you aren't the first; what if you're not the last either?"

That last part made me think, but I was still so terrified to confront him. I nodded and placated her like I had with Andrew, but I didn't think either of them was buying it anymore.

The problem with reporting him was one that neither of them seemed to understand. If I reported him, I may have to face him in court. Or worse, he may take revenge on me. I'd seen his temper. It was scary—and that was over something stupid. This was his career at stake. How would he react to losing everything? I didn't want to find out. Andrew couldn't be with me every second of every day, and after that night at my house, he was the only one I felt safe with.

Luckily, Andrew spent the entire weekend with me after I got out of the hospital. I knew it was a perfect time to bring up the conversation we'd started before I was discharged, but I couldn't seem to get up the nerve to mention it again.

Until Sunday when we were lying on his couch watching TV, and I couldn't think about anything except the way my body fit against his.

"Andrew?"

"Yeah?"

"We need to talk."

He sat up, bringing me with him. We turned to face each other, sitting cross-legged on the couch, our knees overlapping.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

I held up my hands. "Yes, yes, I am fine. I just—we need to talk about...us," I said, my voice nearly squeaking on the last word.

"Oh," he said, and I could tell he didn't know whether to relax or feel even more anxious. "Okay. What about us?"

I cocked my head to the side and placed my hand on my knee palm up. His fingers instantly intertwined with mine, like a magnet had drawn him there.

Looking down at our hands, I nodded. "This. I just—I want to make sure I'm not reading things wrong, and I want to make sure we both know where we stand."

"Charlotte, I—"

"Let me just get this out," I said, and he gestured for me to continue. "When Liam told me I couldn't talk to you anymore, I knew I could never do that. You're my best friend, and at that time, that's all I was willing to admit to myself. But I couldn't give you up. For anything. Or anyone."

Andrew reached up and pushed a curl out of my face. "If you had given me up, I wouldn't have fought you if I thought that's what would make you happy."

"I would never be happy without you, Drew. But I can't expect you to—I mean, we've never even talked about being more than what we are...friends who sometimes sleep together. And I don't know why—"

Andrew cupped both of my cheeks in his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. "Why we lied to ourselves for so long?"

My breath caught in my throat, and the tiniest gasp escaped me. "You mean, you—"

He grinned. "Do you really think I would kiss you, put my hands on you...if I didn't adore you, Charlotte?"

"Then why did you never ask me to be your girlfriend?" 

"You never said anything, so I didn't want to mess things up between us. You mean too much to me, Char. But now, I see the truth."

One corner of my lips tipped up into a smile. "And what's the truth?"

He leaned forward and captured my mouth with his, his tongue sliding along the seam of my lips until I opened for him. I let him push me back onto the couch and he hovered above me, parting from me only to say, "It's you. It's always been you."

The world seemed to melt away then, until the only things left were me, Andrew, and the confession, at last, that we were more than friends.

Andrew stood up, and I made a little worried sound in the back of my throat, missing his touch. He grinned and swept me up in his arms, carrying me to his bedroom.

He laid me down on the bed and reached to the back of his collar, pulling his t-shirt over his head. My eyes were glued to him as I slipped out of my tank top and shorts. Crawling over me, he tangled his fingers in my hair and kissed me again, different from any kiss we'd ever shared, with a fervor we had never known. Never in the countless times we'd slept together had I felt so much desire, so much passion, so much tenderness from him.

His hand slipped from my hair down my shoulder and trailed down my arm until our fingers intertwined. "Charlotte, I have to ask," he whispered against my temple as he placed a kiss there.

"Anything."

"Are you sure this isn't too soon? I mean, after all this shit with—"

I put two fingers on his lips. "Don't say his name." I slid my fingers from his mouth, dragging his bottom lip as I went. "It has always, from the day we met, been you. He was just a roadblock. It's you I want."

Andrew nodded and raised our hands to the pillow, pinning my arm down and drawing me in for another kiss, tugging at the waist of my sleep shorts with his other hand. I kicked them off and made short work of his jeans, and my face flushed when the evidence of his desire pressed against my thigh.

And all I could think while he reminded me how perfect we fit together was that this had to be what it felt like to be in love.