“I’d been in there a million times though and knew they kept keys on top of the doorway so I unlocked it and he had his hands around her throat, Charlotte. He was choking her and her shirt was ripped.”

My heart is thundering like it did that night.

“I pulled him off of her, and she was crying, and he kept saying he was sorry and he had too much to drink. Over and over he kept saying he didn’t mean to hurt her. She ran out of the room and I went after her. She didn’t want to tell anyone, but I kept seeing the look in his eyes. The hold he had on her. I could hardly get him off, so I kept pushing her to tell. We stayed out all night and I drove her to the police station to file a report. Things were a mess after that. Half the town was pissed at her—she went in the room, she’d been drinking too, it was an accident and shit like that. They all kept saying how Adam was a good kid and a good ball player. It was like that stuff you see on TV, only real.

“So yeah, I testified against him. People lied and said it was because I liked her and all sorts of other things that don’t matter. We ended up moving and I just…I couldn’t talk to anyone. Not even you. I just felt like—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Nathaniel.”

I want to smile at the way she seems to read my mind, but I can’t make myself do it.

“Feels like it is.”

She shuffles beside me and I wonder if she’s going to get up and leave, but she doesn’t. Charlotte reaches over and grabs my hand. I thread my fingers through hers, hold her tightly, and think maybe…just maybe everything would have been a whole lot easier to deal with this whole time, if I’d had her hand in mine.

When I get up the next morning, my brother isn’t here. Our parents decided to go get massages in the city, which is all kinds of screwed up if you ask me. We just got here yesterday. I’m not sure why they need a massage already, but if it keeps them from getting on my case, I'm not going to complain.

I wonder what Charlotte is doing. I'll feel like crap if she has to work with her dad today after how late we were out last night. We didn’t go in until after three—just sat out and talked. She’s good for that. Telling me about life in The Village and her stars. She never expects me to do more than listen unless I want to and it’s not the same as it is with everyone else.

Mom and Dad might not try to get me to talk because they’re not really good at that kind of thing, but I know they’re always trying to figure me out. Trying to decide how to be the kind of parents who sit down and open up to their kids when we both know they’re not. Whatever. It’s cool. It doesn’t bother me.

But with Charlotte, I can just chill.

Brandon’s sitting outside with his stupid fucking football when I go out, and I wonder if he’s had the thing surgically attached without me knowing. I don’t know what it is about him and that ball, but I know it was important for him to bring it and he’s been screwing with it since we got here.

“What’s up?” I ask him. “Sadie come and bust your balls yet?”

“Fuck you. And what’s up with you? Why are you all chatty all of a sudden? You’ve been walking around like a kicked puppy for six months and all of a sudden you’re cracking jokes. ” He’s palming the ball tightly between his hands.

I look at my brother, who’s usually one of the most laid-back people I know, and frown. It’s not like him to lose his temper. All he usually cares about is football and having a good time. Did I miss something these past few months? No. Not with Brandon. He’s never been able to keep anything to himself.

“What’s your problem, man? You’re being a douche.”

Brandon drops the ball to the ground and pushes me. Caught off guard, I stumble before lunging at him and pushing him back. My brother hits the ground and I know it’s more from shock than the fact that I’m stronger than him. We screwed around and got in fights when we were kids, but not in a long time.

Brandon gets to his feet. “My problem is we’re here because of you. We had to move because of you. You fucked everything up!” Just like that, he’s gone. I sink down to the porch stairs, knowing everything he just said is right, but it’s the first time he’s actually said it to me.

I feel like hitting something. Slamming my fist into something as hard as the guilt pummels me. I screwed up getting Chrissy to meet Adam. I pushed her to tell when she didn’t want to and then I screwed up my family’s life, too.

“Hey.” Charlotte steps around the side of the house.

I’m looking at the ground, trying to calm down. “Hey.”

“So…your brother just totally lost it.”

I almost laugh and I’m pretty sure that’s what she wants me to do.

Charlotte stands in front of me for what feels like forever before she asks, “Wanna go for a hike?”

I risk looking up at her. She has this soft sort of smile on her face like she’s unsure of herself. I don’t know what she thinks there is to be unsure of. She knows I’ll go with her. I’m always down to do anything with her.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“It’s under control.”

I stand up and step closer to her. She’s not as tanned as I remember from last year, but that’s probably because it’s so early in the summer. She’s wearing another pink tank top, only this one is darker, and it makes me want to smile because I don’t think I saw her in anything pink before. She used to make fun of Sadie for wearing it.

I also notice her neck is bare, not that I can blame her. Why would she want to wear the necklace I gave her when I was such a prick for six months?

“Sure. Want me to grab us something for lunch?” Just looking at her makes me a little out of breath and then that makes me feel like a douchebag.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Charlotte jogs off, around the back of her house and heads in the side door, staying far away from the store up front where her mom and sister work so often. It takes her less than five minutes to come back out with a backpack on and her hair tied up in a knot.

“Come on,” she says, moving briskly. We head up the trail between her house and the cabins.

We walk through the field where everyone played night games a summer ago and hang a left up a path winding up the mountain. It isn't too steep, and the trail is worn from the feet of many others who have taken this same route.

“I feel like a pussy.”

“Ugh! I hate that word. Why do guys use it like that?”

I shrug. “Sorry. I feel like a wuss. Like you’re riding to my rescue or something.”

We’re walking side by side and she slows down a little. “Girls can’t ride to a guy’s rescue?”

“No, no. They can. It just makes us feel like pu—I mean, wusses.”

“You’re different. Than you were, I mean,” she blurts out before speeding up again. I think she’s trying to get away from me because of what she said.

Those words percolate around inside of me for a minute. I am different. I know it, but I don’t want to seem different to her. For better or for worse, I actually liked the way she seemed to need me last summer. Like I gave her something that no one else did, but now I'm the one who needs her. The thought makes my muscles tighten.

“I don’t want to be different. Not with you at least.”

She stumbles a little at my words. I grab her hand to steady her. I think about what it was like to hold her last night and I’m not sure I want to let go. Still, my hand pulls back. I’m not sure I have the right to hold her for no reason like that.

“Tell me how I’ve changed.” It’s not like I don’t know, but it’s different hearing it from her.

“You curse more,” she says. “And you’re quieter.” She pauses and continues onward, and I know she’s working through whatever she has to say. She did that summer. I always wondered if it was because everyone just assumed everything about her instead of asking her opinion and listening to what she had to say.