Page 72 of Hunter

His whole body locks up, shaking violently. A broken, terrified sound escapes him; small at first, then louder, a sob that sounds like it’s being ripped out of his chest.

I freeze instantly.

“Charlie?”

He starts fighting my grip on his wrists, weak and panicked, like he’s trying to get free. Another sob tears out of him, then another. His breathing is wrong—too fast, too shallow, bordering on hyperventilating.

“Charlie— hey, hey, I’m stopping,” I say quickly, releasing his wrists immediately and lifting my weight off him. “I stopped. I’m right here, baby. You’re safe.”

I reach for him, ready to wrap my arms around him, and he curls in on himself the second he’s free, arms wrapping around his head, knees drawing up as violent tremors run through his body. Soft, broken sobs keep coming, muffled against the mattress.

I feel like I’ve been gutted.

“Fuck—I’m so sorry,” I whisper, sitting back on my heels, hands hovering but not touching him. “I thought…you seemed into it. I pushed too hard. I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m right here. I’m not going to touch you unless you want me to.”

He doesn’t answer. He just shakes harder, curled up small and vulnerable, crying like the world is ending.

I sit on the edge of the bed, close but not crowding him, heart hammering as I watch the boy I’m falling for fall apart because of me.

I don’t know what to do, so I become a statue.

Then, between harsh, gasping sobs, he chokes out:

“Go.”

The word hits me like a slap.

“Charlie—”

“Go,” he sobs again, voice cracking. “Please…just go. I can’t—I can’t right now.”

His shoulders are shaking so badly it looks painful. He won’t even look at me. He’s curled into the smallest ball he can manage, as though he’s trying to disappear.

I feel sick to my stomach.

“Okay,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “Okay. I’m going. I’m sorry.”

I slide off the bed and quickly pull on my jeans, not bothering with the rest of my clothes, gathering them in my arms instead. Every sob I hear from him feels like a knife twisting deeper. I want to reach for him. I want to hold him and tell him I’m sorry a thousand times. But I know I’ve already done enough damage tonight.

I stop at the door, looking back at the small, trembling shape on the bed.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Charlie,” I say quietly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps crying—soft, shattered sounds that follow me all the way out of the apartment.

The door clicks shut behind me. I stand in the hallway for a long moment, chest hollow, listening to the muffled sobs through the wood.

Robby’s voice is loud in my head now, triumphant and cruel.

Told you. You ruin everything you touch.

This time, I don’t even try to argue with him.

Because he’s right.

Chapter 29

Charlie