“I don’t know, Dad. I really want the Captain America kit, but the Millennium Falcon is the best ship in the world. It made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.”

Ethan had earned a Lego kit as his reward for doing so well in his tutoring. Who knew picking one would be such a monumental decision?

“I’ll only buy you the Millennium Falcon if you can repeat the most important rule back to me,” Finn said.

“Han shot first.” Ethan rolled his little eyes. “Everybody knows that.”

Finn ruffled his son’s hair. “Everybody doesn’t know that. That’s the problem with the world today.”

Ethan’s voice got serious. “I don’t want you to be upset about this, Dad, but I’m leaning toward the superhero set.” Ethan glanced up at him and patted his arm. “But don’t worry, there’s always Christmas.”

“I’ll try to keep my disappointment in check.”

Finn was excited that he could take his son to tutoring without it being a huge battle. Now when Ethan looked at a book, he didn’t break out in hives. Yes, his best friend was still a four-year-old, and he liked hanging out with her more than anything, but Finn would tackle one thing at a time.

Ethan’s sessions with Charlie had continued to get better. The things they were doing with the symbols and numbers Finn honestly didn’t understand at all, but he was willing to take a leap of faith. Mostly they were still “writing” their own books, but he’d seen how Charlie had slipped in others. She’d shown how the symbols and codes could be transferred from what they wrote to other books.

Ethan hadn’t liked it at first, but Charlie was patient and kept showing him how the methods he’d learned translated to all sorts of written words. Basically, Ethan was replacing words, particularly the ones that gave him the most trouble, with numbers and symbols. It was a different way to memorize sight words.

Charlie had been quick to explain to Finn that she wasn’t really teaching Ethan reading skills, but coping skills. She explained it as if she were afraid Finn might attack her methodology.

Coping skills he understood far better than he’d probably understand any academic mumbo-jumbo. And hell, he didn’t care what she called it if her methods got results.

He still hadn’t figured out exactly what was going on with Charlie herself. He’d been careful to keep away from The Cactus Motel. He told himself it was none of his business what she was doing there so long as her actions didn’t negatively affect his son, which was true. It was none of his business that every time they had an appointment, she had darker circles under her eyes and continued to be way too thin, which was also true.

He’d tried to get her to join them for another meal but hadn’t pushed when she’d said no. Because he didn’t care.

That, whether he liked it or not, was false.

He spotted Charlie’s BMW in the parking lot of the library and realized a moment later that she was asleep inside the car. Why did that concern him so much? He’d taken a nap in his Jeep from time to time. Everybody had.

“Hey, sport, why don’t you go inside, work on some of the stuff Charlie gave you, okay? We’ll be right in. And please don’t run. I don’t want another two-hour lecture from Mr. Mazille.”

Ethan grinned and took off running. Finn sighed. Lecture number 382 coming his way.

He walked over to Charlie’s car, waiting to see if she would wake up. Cat-napping people could usually feel eyes on them. But Charlie didn’t stir. As he walked closer, he realized she hadn’t even laid the seat back, like someone normally would to rest in their car. Her head had just fallen to the side, as if she hadn’t planned to sleep at all, had just been overwhelmed by it.

Deep shadows rested under her eyes. Her skin was pale, and tension bracketed her mouth even in sleep. He looked down the rest of her body.

Damn it, she’d lost more weight in the two weeks since they’d gone to the Frontier. Maybe a pound or two, but like she’d always said, on a five-foot-three frame made a difference.

The thought of drug use tagged his brain once again. But how could she be using and still be so alert and fantastic with Ethan?

Was she sick?

That would answer a lot of questions. If she had the flu or something, vomiting, couldn’t keep food in her system? That would explain the exhaustion too.

Of course, she’d never shown any signs of that during tutoring either, nor of being anything less than one hundred percent focused and attentive.

He glanced in the back of her car. It wasn’t as clean as the last time he’d seen it, but it wasn’t nearly as messy as that night at The Eagle’s Nest three weeks ago. There were some boxes or something on the floor of the back seat, but they were covered by a neatly folded blanket. The only thing truly visible was a plastic grocery bag, with a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter peeking out. A couple apples had rolled out and onto the seat.

Finn moved his attention back up to Charlie. He almost hated to wake her up. She had one hand tucked against her cheek, the other in a fist down by her leg. But when he looked closer, he realized her fist was holding a can of pepper spray.

He shook his head. Who was cautious enough to nap with that in their hand, but incautious enough to get a room at The Cactus Motel? Didn’t make any sense.

He’d be the first to admit he had never one hundred percent understood Charlie. Hell, it had been part of the overall appeal, knowing he’d never completely figure her out. But now, the more he learned about her, the less he understood. There was some big piece of this puzzle he did not have.

Those blue eyes popped open, and she bolted straight up. Finn had been in enough combat situations to know abject fear when he saw it. This was way more than just waking and trying to get her bearings.

He took a step back from the car, holding his arms out in front of him in a gesture of harmlessness. “Charlie, it’s Finn.”

His heart cracked a little at the look on her face, like she couldn’t really piece together what was happening. Her chest was heaving in and out as if she couldn’t get enough air.

He’d never seen her like this, and he’d woken up with her more times than he could count. “You’re okay, sweetheart.” He kept his voice soothing, even though he had to be loud enough for her to hear him through the door. “You just fell asleep in your car.”

“F-Finn?”

He moved to the door as he heard it unlock, opening it and squatting beside her. She was still caught up in whatever panic had gripped her mind. “It’s okay, princess. You’re safe.”

“I-I. . .”

She let go of the can of pepper spray and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, her breath still sawing in and out of her chest. The pale skin of her face was pulled tight over her cheekbones.

Any other woman might burst into tears, but not Charlie. He could see her trying to pull herself together, trying to keep whatever bad things were happening to her under wraps.

Trying and failing.

He couldn’t stand to see her like this.

“Come here.” He went down on one knee and yanked her against his chest, curling both arms around her tiny frame.

His heart cracked a little more when she just melted into him without resistance, falling half out of the car. He pulled her tighter as her slender arms wrapped around his shoulders and she buried her face in his neck.

He held her that way for long minutes, not saying anything, just rubbing gentle circles along her back. Eventually, as he’d never had any doubt she would, she began to straighten, finding her strength, pulling away from him.

He let her go, ignoring the part of him that told him to call his mom to come get Ethan and drag Charlie back to his house—to his bed—and not let her go until she told him exactly what the hell was going on with her.

After he made love to her a couple dozen times.

And fed her until she no longer made orgasmic sounds at a bite of a diner hamburger, just at the feel of him biting into her.

His fists clenched at his side as she moved back into the car. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him, staring out the windshield. She waited so long to answer that just for a second, he thought she might actually tell him what was happening to her.

“I woke up in the middle of a bad dream, I guess.”

Of course, that was her answer. It was just a derivative of the answer she’d given him last time he’d asked her to explain what was happening, why her life seemed so out of control. He’d asked her that—said those exact words: You want to tell me what’s going on?—the day she was marrying someone else instead of him when they’d spent the last five years talking about how they would spend forever together.

Her answer then had been “This is just the way things have to be.”

So basically, fuck off and leave me alone.

Same answer then. Same now. Finn should’ve learned that lesson the first time.

“Okay, well, Ethan’s waiting inside. So, whenever you’re ready.” He stood.

Those crystal blue eyes tracked him. “Finn, I. . .”

He stopped and waited. Was she going to tell him? Tell him why she was driving a car that was ten years old? Why she dragged tension and exhaustion everywhere she went, even though she tried to hide it? Tell him why her Target blazer, the nicest piece of clothing she had, was not only off-the-rack, but ill-fitting?

Too big, as if she’d lost weight since she’d bought it.

Would she tell him why the wrists attached to her hands gripping the steering wheel were thin and fragile? God knew Finn could’ve broken them at any point given his training, but now he’d have to be careful not to break them accidentally.

Would she tell him why? Would she ever give him the piece he was missing? Maybe he could help her, or hell, maybe she didn’t even need it. Charlie was no damsel in distress. She could and would go toe to toe with anyone.

Would she trust him and let him in?

Because he knew for a fact if she did—despite how utterly stupid it might make him—he would close the gap between them. It wouldn’t be the same as before, but it would be a start.

He crouched back down so they were eye to eye. “Tell me, Charlotte.”

“I . . . I . . .” Her eyes raced to points all over. His eyes, his mouth, his chest, over his shoulder, back to his eyes.

He wanted to help her. Expressing her problems had never been Charlie’s forte. But he couldn’t do this for her. He couldn’t just slam through her walls; she had to choose to let him help. To trust him.

God, he wanted her to.

“It was just a nightmare,” she finally whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

He stood and nodded. “I’ll see you inside.”

She’d made her choice.