The Kept and the Keeper

8. Something Else Entirely

Charlie's P.O.V

I pace.

Again.

And again.

The house is silent, but not peaceful.
It's the kind of silence that waits.
The kind that holds its breath.

Everyone's outside.
They know better than to crowd her.
But they're close. Watching. Guarding.

Only I stayed inside.

Because it's me she needs to talk to.
Or maybe it's me who needs to hear whatever she's not saying.

Time's never felt like this before.
I can outrun it. Always have.
But not now.
Now it's taunting me.

Every tick, every second—
It's dragging.
And I'm trapped in the stretch between heartbeats.

Then—

"Collins?"

Her voice.
Soft. Barely there.

But enough.

I turn.
And there she is.

Eyes fogged with confusion.
Body still heavy like it just returned to her.
But she's standing.
And she's looking at me.

"What happened?" she asks.
"Why am I here?"

She leans against the table.
I lean against the couch.
Two sides of something neither of us understands.

"You don't remember losing control?" I ask.
"Shouting? Screaming? Letting that mutt kiss you?"

My voice sharpens with each word.
Our distance shrinks.

My hands are shaking.
My chest burns.

"You tell me to stay away—fine, I get it. We just met.
But him? That guy?"

I shake my head.

"He hurts you. I don't need to read your mind to know it."

Her eyes widen.
Shock.
Maybe something else.

"Don't act surprised," I say.
"If you're not freaking out about the fact I watched you blow the roof off a house, then you already know what I am too."

I reach out.
Grab her wrist.
Not hard—just enough to keep her here.
Just enough to not lose her again.

But she yanks away.
Hard.

Her arm slams into the table's corner.

We both flinch.
Both cry out.

Same elbow.
Same pain.
Same moment.

I stare at her.
She stares at me.

Something's wrong.
Or maybe something's right.

I take a step closer.

She backs up.
Trapped now.

"Stay away, Collins," she says.

But I don't.
I raise my hand and press a single finger to her arm.
Just one.

Pain flares through my arm like a shock.

She gasps.
Same sting.
Same breath.

She shoves me again—this time, hard.

The door bursts open.
My family steps in.

They see us.
The look on both our faces.

And that's when it clicks.