Page 142 of Darling Venom
Darling Venom.
And Charlotte Richards.
Back in a bed that didn’t feel like mine, in a house that never felt like a home, I stared at the ceiling, wondering if Charlie made it home safe.
I replayed the way she moved up the stairs. With dignified silence. Like she was so used to being invisible, she didn’t have to worry about making a sound. She knew she wouldn’t.
Then I thought about Darling Venom.
How many words were in the manuscript?
How many words were in a book in general?
I knew nothing about books. Kel took after our sperm donor—all bursting creativity and written words. I took after my mother, excelling at math, biology, and chemistry.
Would she know what to write? Would it make her miss him? Would it bring back old memories? More things I could find out about him, but never would, because I was being a horrible bastard to her.
I tossed and turned. Moved to the right side of the bed. Glared at the red digital numbers on my alarm clock.
I kept checking my arms and legs for missing parts. None. But it felt like something was missing.
If I were being honest, I couldn’t blame Charlie. She didn’t need to follow through on Kel’s wishes. She did it because she was a good person. It was, perhaps, my favorite thing about her.
Here was the ugly truth.
I didn’t want tonight to be the last time I saw Charlotte Richards. Her presence soothed me where I normally burned. In a lot of ways, she was my last hope. My only connection left to Kellan.
But Darling Venom was the last possession I had of his. Without it, she and I had no reason to see each other again.
You could pick up the phone and ask to meet her. To hear more about Kel.
But what was the point?
Every time we stood in the same room, there was confusion, anger, and tension. I couldn’t stand her, yet I couldn’t keep her away either. She couldn’t stop looking at me, yet she wouldn’t budge when it came to doing justice for Kel.
That was another thing.
Charlie’s loyalty was with Kellan.
Not me.
Never me.
Kellan.
Why did you do this, Kellan?
But I already knew why.
Part of it was because of me. Because I was so busy pretending to be a grownup, I forgot to check on him.
Kellan never forgave me for that mistake.
And I very much doubted Charlie would, either.
I ran my fingers along the spines of old hardcovers as I walked along an aisle, breathing in the earthy, musky scent of aged paper, dust, and cherished ink.
An entire week had passed since I’d bid Tate goodbye, and today I finally mustered the courage to let go of the one thing that still bound us together. Kellan’s books.
