SUNSHINE [Frank Castle]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - PIECE OF MY HEART

Before Charlotte and Frank even made it out onto the street in front of Charlotte's apartment, Frank's phone rang. It was Sarah, Lieberman's wife. Sarah told him that she needed him to come sign a form for her insurance company in order for her to get her car fixed.

Charlotte told him to go, though he was reluctant. Eventually she convinced him to drop her off at Lieberman's with the guns and then go. He told her he'd be back as soon as he was finished.

So, she entered the building alone, the case of guns in her hands. Lieberman was where he always was, sitting in front of his screens. As soon as he saw her, the questions came. "Why the hell is he there? What is he doing?"

Charlotte sighed and set the case down on the floor. "Your wife called him and told him she needed some forms signed for her insurance company. He's going to sign them, then he's coming right back here. Calm down."

"How can you be so calm?" Lieberman snapped.

"Excuse me?" She cocked a brow at him.

"Your boyfriend is out with another woman! An attractive, emotional and vulnerable woman!"

"My boyfriend?" Charlotte let out a laugh. "Frank Castle is not my boyfriend."

"Then what the hell is the deal with you two? You two look at each other like no one else matters, and I've never seen any couple care for each other as much as you do."

Charlotte shook her head, dismissive. "Don't act like you know us, Lieberman. Frank is a friend, a partner. We understand each other, that's it. You're just upset because you think he's trying to hit on your wife."

"You wouldn't be uncomfortable if he started seeing her?" He retorted.

"Of course not." She shrugged. "What Frank does in his personal life is his business."

She believed that, she did. And yet. . .

And yet something inside her didn't feel right to have Frank be with another woman. As if Charlotte herself had or wanted any claim on the man. What if. . . what if she did want him?

She knew how she felt when he was around. Wanted, needed, respected, cared about. But that didn't necessarily translate into real feelings. It didn't necessarily mean that she felt the way Lieberman implied that she did. It didn't mean anything at all, in the long run.

The only people alive that she loved were her friends and her sister. Anything beyond that was dangerous. She'd learned that the hard way.

"You're delusional, Lieberman."

"And you're in denial."

"Just sit your ass down. I'm not in the mood."

He complied, and she sat down, too. She opened the case of guns and began cleaning one, even though it was already pristine. She just needed something to distract herself.