Drop Dead.

“Blimey, Char, wha’ the ‘ell ‘appened?” Tom asked once he’d opened his door to see me in tears and shaking. He swung the door open wider and I shuffled in, sniffling with every scuffle.

“C-Can I stay here f-for a wh-while?” I stammered through my sobs. Tom, concern gracing his young face, placed his hands on my upper arms, bending down so he could look me in the eyes.

“Wha’ ‘appened, Charlotte?” he asked me again. That was the first time I’d ever heard him use my full name. Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I averted my eyes.

“Melanie kicked me out…” I whispered, feeling a new wave of tears spring to my eyes. I sobbed again and lowered my head, dripping tears onto Tom’s carpet.

“Why did she kick yeh out, Charlotte?” I glanced up at him again, his blue eyes boring into mine, as if they were forcing the answer out of me – which, in a way, they were. I led him to the couch and sat us both down. Tom’s face contorted to an expression of uneasiness and dread.

Then I spilled everything, starting with my prior feelings for Oliver and ending with the reason I was standing on his doorstep. I told him about Oliver’s threat to bring me down with him, about my determination to tell Melanie. I was crying throughout the entire story and Tom asked me to repeat some parts due to not being able to understand me through my sobs. So I did, but retelling it just made me sob harder. When I finished, I looked at Tom for any reaction. His lips were in a taut line, his eyes staring into the carpet. I was fearing for the worst.

“I’m no’ mad at yeh, Char,” he finally said. I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “Yeh did the righ’ thing by tellin’ Mel. It’s Olleh I’m no’ ‘appy wiff. Who does ‘e think ‘e is threatenin’ yeh like tha’? I know Mum raised ‘im betteh than threatenin’ lasses.” He was shaking his head in disapproval. I didn’t say anything.

“When are yeh gonna tell David?” he asked me after a few moments of silence. I sighed and looked down at my clasped hands. I lifted my shoulders in a half-assed shrug. “Yeh need to tell ‘im before yeh two get serious.”

“I thought we already were,” I mumbled, looking away.

“I mean, like, if ‘e asks yeh to marry ‘im.”

“He won’t once he finds out what I did to him,” I deadpanned. Realizing this made me want to cry again, but I was out of tears to be shed. I’d done all my crying on the drive over from Melanie’s – it felt weird to address the apartment as being just hers now – to Tom’s, a good fifteen-twenty minute drive.

“I don’t believe tha’. If ‘e truly loves yeh, ‘e’ll forgi’ yeh,” Tom reassured, draping his arm across my shoulders.

“I don’t think he loves me,” I muttered, keeping my gaze downcast.

“’ow do yeh know tha’?” he asked me, tucking two fingers beneath my chin to force my eyes to meet his.

I shrugged. “He’s never said it.” Tom chuckled dryly and I half-glared at him.

“Doesn’t mean ‘e don’ love yeh, Char. ‘e jus’ don’ ‘ave the balls to say it to yeh yet. ‘e’ll say it.”

Somehow I didn’t believe it. Even with all the faith I had in Tom, I still couldn’t find it in me to believe a single word he said.

“Yeh can stay ‘ere as long as yeh need to, love,” Tom told me, leaning forward to press a kiss to my temple. It was a brotherly gesture, but it broke my heart a million times over.