Page 183 of Darling Venom
God, what else hadn’t I noticed about Kel?
I swallowed, forcing myself to continue, “Or when Charlie realizes she’s shining brightly and recedes into herself, not because she wants to stay hidden but because she’s conditioned herself to believe she doesn’t deserve attention. Charlie is hurting. Bad. Not everything is about you, Leah.”
“Finally, you’re right about something. Nothing is about me. Absolutely nothing.”
She wore a look on her face. One that said she needed to prove something. To me? To Charlie? To herself?
I needed to provoke her. Get her to release it all until nothing remained. With Charlie’s luck, chances were, her sister’s anger was a bottomless abyss she could pull from, and Leah would always have Charlie in her sight.
But fuck, I had to try.
“Grow up, Leah. That’s life.”
“Grow up?! Grow up?!” she spat the words out. “You’re a real peach.”
“And you’re out of touch.” I shook my head, not believing the card I was about to pull. Of shit I heard from a grief podcast Hannah used to play. “Some people are so afraid of love, they only know how to hate.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“I think you lost your parents, and you’re afraid of letting anyone else in—including your sister—because you might lose them. So, you act like this instead.”
“Or maybe I have every reason to hate my sister.” She gestured to her face. “Because of her, I don’t go out. I have no one in my life. I am alone. Withering as life passes me by. I look out the window every day, staring down at my neighbors, knowing I will never have what they have. It was stolen from me by Charlotte.”
“Lottie. Your nickname for her is Lottie. I think she’d like it if you called her that again.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
We were going in circles, and the scenery sucked. I didn’t need a PhD in psychology to know this wasn’t working.
I decided to lay myself bare, swallowing back the bile. “I’m sure you know by now that my brother died.”
“Yes.” She nodded, turning her head away. When she met my gaze again, the anger had faded from her eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for not giving Charlotte the letter. If I’d known, I would have.”
And if Charlie had known she’d start a fire, she wouldn’t have smoked that night.
“What Charlie probably left out was that I had the chance to save my brother, and I didn’t know it. There was no fire for us. I didn’t come home to a burning building and see the obvious options in front of me—save Kellan or let him die. His death began way before he stopped breathing. Suicide is a long road with a dead-end. It isn’t instant. There are pit stops along the way. I could’ve saved him at any one of those, but I didn’t. I have to live with that. Have you ever stopped to be grateful Charlie is alive? Have you ever told her you’re glad she made it out of the fire?”
“Of course, I’m grateful. Did she tell you I’m not?”
Charlie didn’t need to tell me.
I saw it every day.
She genuinely believed Leah didn’t want her in her life.
“Have you ever asked her if she’s okay? How she’s shouldering the blame?” I paused. “Have you ever wondered if she’s ever been on that one-way road?”
Leah staggered back like I’d shot her.
“No.” She clawed at her chest, pressing down. “She’s never—”
“Try asking her how she met Kellan.”
As I said it, I knew it to be true.
There was no other reason for them to make a pact to meet on a cordoned-off rooftop at St. Paul’s. I also considered the fact that I’d crossed a line, but it was the same line Charlie had been willing to cross.
I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if you didn’t call the cops when I showed up at your home, if Tate arrived, if I had the opportunity to talk to him…
