“Charlotte, baby. I’m so sorry,” Trevor’s voice has replaced Cody’s, and it makes me wince. I hear his keys land on a table, and I turn to see him walking into the garage toward me, his arms open. Everything about him is big and confident, such a contrast to the quiet and subdued feeling of a moment ago.
Trevor must have taken a flight just behind mine. While I know I should be swooning that he’s chased me, fought for me—instead, I’m filled with disappointment. And though I will barely admit it to myself, I know that part of me was hoping he’d just stay in Washington, forget about me—call everything off. And then I’d move on to...
Trevor’s hugging me, and by habit I reach around and hold him back. He’s whispering apologies, over and over, stroking my hair and cradling my head, but all I can do is scan the garage to see where Cody is. I lock eyes with him for the briefest of seconds as he slides under the car next to Gabe, and I know he’s just trying to avoid us.
“I’m so sorry. Please, you have to forgive me. Charlotte, I was so wrong,” Trevor says. I know I should be completely invested in his words, but I’m only half here. The rest of me is trying to send my thoughts to Cody—tell him that I’m the one that’s sorry. Sorry I shared part of his story with Trevor, sorry I told his secrets.
“I forgive you,” I say, forcing my eyes to look at Trevor when I speak, ignoring the sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. My eyes are stinging with the want to cry, but I fight it off. “I forgive you,” I say again, reaching back to him to hug him and bury my face in his sweater.
Trevor holds me for minutes, until the music in the garage is drowned out by my inner thoughts and turmoil. I’m looking at Cody’s legs, and I know he’s just lying under the car, not doing anything. He’s hiding. Just like I am.
“I followed him once,” Trevor says. I pull back and lower my brow. “My dad? I followed him once—to Chicago. I saw him. He has an entire family, Charlotte. Like, a wife and two little kids. They must be two or three.”
What the hell! I know Cody is surprised by this, too, because he slowly wheels his way out from under the car and sits up, rubbing his head and leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. I don’t know what to say, so I just look at Trevor and shake my head in understanding. He’s looking at the floor, his eyes a little red.
“It was last year. I had a feeling…I mean, I kinda knew for a while. But I just wanted to make sure. So when he left for a trip, I booked a flight right after him. I waited outside his office all day, then I followed him home. I kept wishing—wishing like hell—that he’d turn into an apartment in the city, call out for some take out, and go home alone. But he kept driving—wayyyyy out to the suburbs. It’s such a typical goddamned house, too—white picket fence and all that shit. I parked down the street, but I could see everything.”
Trevor’s trembling a little, and I reach for his hand, but he backs up even more. He’s almost in a trance with his memory. “I just sat there, Charlotte,” Trevor says, his head hanging low, and his posture slumped and beaten. “I sat there, like a fool, and watched them all sit down for dinner.”
He turns to Cody, and for the first time since I’ve known about the two of them and their relationship, he’s looking at him like a brother, like they have a common thread—and they do. “He looked…happy. That bastard looked f**king happier than he ever does when he’s here,” Trevor says, shaking his head. Cody just grimaces in return and nods in understanding, dropping his gaze down to the floor and folding up his legs.
“Trevor, oh my god. I’m so sorry,” I say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. I turn to Cody, and he’s looking at our touch, his eyes pained. I want to desperately reach out to him as well, but I can’t. “Cody, I’m so sorry,” I say, my words full of double meaning.
Cody stands up and shrugs, tossing the wrench he was holding in a toolbox and walking to the back of the garage to the sink. I look back at Trevor, and he pulls my hand up to his mouth to kiss it, squeezing it tightly. I think about it only a millisecond before he speaks—my ring is still in my pocket.
“You’re not wearing your ring? Are you…did you…?” Trevor asks, his face suddenly flush. He can’t seem to find a way to finish his thought, and not wanting him to say any more out loud, I reach into my pocket quickly and slide it on my finger. His smile shows his instant relief, and he reaches for both sides of my face to pull me in for a kiss. I close my eyes, wishing time would freeze to give me a moment to think—or escape. But the world keeps moving, and then he says it.