"Bells, you can't leave now. It's nighttime," he whispered.
I didn't turn around. "I'll sleep in the shitmobile if I get tired."
"Just wait another week," he pleaded. I could hear tears catching somewhere in the back of his voice. "Rénee will be back by then."
This completely derailed me. "What?"
Charlie continued eagerly, almost babbling with relief. "She called while you were out and said that things weren't going to so well in Florida, not at all, and that if Phil doesn't get signed by the end of the week who knows, maybe she'll leave him, maybe Phil just wasn't the one, maybe—maybe—maybe—"
I shook my head, trying to reassemble my now-confused thoughts. This was the closest he'd ever come to saying it.
"Maybe what, she'll love you again?" I muttered, turning the knob. He was too close, one hand extended toward me, his face dazed. I couldn't lose any more time arguing with him. I was going to have to hurt him further.
"Just let me go, Charlie." I repeated my mother's last words as she'd walked out of his life into a rainy Forks evening, out this same door so many years ago. I said them as angrily as I could manage, and I threw the broken door open. "It didn't work out, okay? I really, really, really, really, really hate Forks!"
My cruel words did their job—I could see it in Charlie's eyes as my mother's words entered his ears, my words now, our voices of memory and present intermingling until they had become one, a singular rejection of him and his town. Charlie stayed frozen even as I ran into the night. I was hideously frightened of the empty yard and ran wildly for the truck, visualizing a dark shadow behind me. I threw

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Chapter 19

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