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“Seriously?” Her eyes widen.
I nod. “She wanted to be sure I could cook if I were living alone. I think she was afraid I would starve or go broke eating fast food all the time, so most of the stuff I know how to cook, I learned from her.”
She smiles softly. “That’s pretty cool.” She gets a nostalgic look on her face at the same time memories start springing to my mind. They’re just everyday memories – nothing particularly special. Family dinners with Charlie and her parents, her dad helping me pick out my first car, her mom kissing my forehead and tousling my hair after I broke up with my first girlfriend. But my favorite memories center around spending every afternoon helping a young, beautiful Charlie with algebra, and the following year, with chemistry.
Charlie gets to her feet and retrieves a large photo album from the bookcase.
“A trip down memory lane?”
She grins. “Why not?”
We sit with our heads close together as she flips through the pages. She pauses on a picture of me with my mom after her cancer diagnosis. She’s wearing a pink scarf around her head and gazing at me with such deep love, it pains me to look at her expression. I run my finger across the picture, unable to stop myself. I miss my mom, even after all these years.
“Do you have a copy of this?”
I shake my head. I don’t trust myself to speak.
“I’ll get you one,” she promises.
We keep flipping through photos, landing on one of Charlie and me at her kitchen table working on algebra. I grin as I examine it. She’s wearing a strappy pink tank top with lace around the top, and I’m in a black tee shirt. My hair was longer then, and hers hung to the small of her back. Though the picture doesn’t show it, I know she’s wearing short denim shorts that barely reached the top of her thighs. We sit side by side, books open in front of us. I’d been trying to show her how to solve a problem, but she kept distracting me. The look on my face is one of pure adoration, but neither Charlie nor her parents ever had a clue how I felt about her.
It was better that way.
I smile down at her. “I’ve always loved this picture. It’s my favorite one of us.”
That’s when I started calling her Baby Girl.
“Really? My favorite is the one Tucker took when I first showed up on base.” She flips a few pages over. We’re both wearing gray combat fatigues. She’d been on base for just a couple of hours and was headed to the mess tent when I saw her up ahead. I’d cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “Baby Girl!” She’d turned, her eyes honing in on me instantly, and she’d taken off running toward me. I’d met her halfway and scooped her up and spun her around. She’d wrapped her legs around my waist and kissed my face and hugged me tighter than I’ve ever been hugged, then pulled back to hold my face between her hands and just look at me. Tucker had snapped a photo at that exact moment, with the two of us looking at each other, elation on both our faces.
“I love that one, too. I was so glad to see you. I thought you’d be safer with me.” I pause as guilt floods over me. “Guess I was wrong on that count.”
She shakes her head. “No matter what, Mark, I’m always better with you than without you. Always.”
I pull her toward me and kiss the top of her head.
Me too, Baby Girl. Me too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MARK
Monday afternoon, I head to the clinic for rehab. Lila’s helping a blond guy in a wheelchair navigate the front door when I arrive. She smiles but doesn’t speak. Charlie’s at the front desk on the phone, having refused to take the day off despite Lila’s “assertive encouragement”. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she types on the computer. “I have those records,” she says, glancing up. “I can fax them to you if you’ll send me a signed records release.” I study her when she looks back at the screen. Her face is pale, with deep circles beneath her eyes. As I’m watching, she absently rubs her right temple. I frown. She should have stayed home.
I start toward the entrance to the rehab gym. As I do, something catches my peripheral vision. I look over my shoulder and spot a large black truck pulling into the parking lot.
No.
Surely he wouldn’t be that stupid.
Turns out, he is that stupid. I’m flabbergasted to see Blake hop out and saunter toward the clinic.
Hot anger washes over me as my eyes flash to Charlie. She hasn’t seen him yet. Lila has, though, and she looks worriedly at me. “I’ve got this,” I mutter, pushing past her and hauling myself rapidly across the gravel parking lot. He looks up, his eyes suddenly cautious at my approach. I launch myself through the air when I’m close enough to take him down, flinging my crutches aside. Our bodies connect, and I ride him to the ground. He lands beneath me with a thud, and the air whooshes from his lungs as his startled eyes meet mine. I straddle him as he wrestles, trying to free himself, but I knocked the wind out of him when I tackled him. Fueled by the memory of Charlie’s anguish and self-loathing, I land two solid punches before he gets his hands up to protect his face. My third hit is a body blow that elicits a deep groan from him. I hear Lila yelling behind me, but I don’t stop. I bring both fists down on the hands covering his face, smashing them into his nose. Blood spurts from between his fingers. I pound them again.
Huge arms heave me upright. I struggle, trying to wrench free, but Tom keeps me off balance, dragging me backwards so I can’t get my leg beneath me. When I stop fighting him, he slings me aside, roughly propping me against someone’s car. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
I glare past him. Blake’s gotten to his knees, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. “Ask that fucker what he did yesterday.” Tom whips around to stare at Blake. I glower at him. “Don’t you ever come near Charlie again.”
Tom immediately releases me and hauls Blake to his feet by his bloody shirt. “What did you do to her?” he demands, shaking him.
