Chapter 16
Charlie sighs, glancing at Remy, who is hunched over his plate of pancakes, poking at them more than eating. His little boy is clearly upset, his lips pouted in a way that would be adorable if it didn’t sting so much. Charlie rubs at his temples, trying to balance the knot of guilt and exhaustion twisting in his chest.
He loves Remy more than anything. That’s never been in question. But this morning? This morning, he’s just... tired.
Tired of the tantrums, tired of the confusion, tired of trying to navigate this minefield where he’s desperately trying to keep everyone happy—Remy, Nick, himself. It’s all too much sometimes.
Charlie’s eyes flick to Nick, who’s standing by the counter, pretending to focus on his coffee but clearly feeling the tension in the room. His shoulders are tight, and he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, his foot tapping softly against the floor. He looks like he’s ready to bolt, and it’s the last thing Charlie wants.
“Nick,” Charlie says softly, catching his eye. Nick looks up, startled, like he wasn’t expecting to hear his name. “You’re fine. Really. He’s just... processing. He’ll be okay.”
Nick nods slowly, but the tension doesn’t leave his body. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t want to mess things up for you two.”
“You didn’t,” Charlie says firmly, though the lingering sadness in his chest makes him doubt himself. “He’s four. He’s figuring things out. It’s not your fault.”
Nick hesitates, glancing at Remy, who still hasn’t looked up from his plate. “Should I... go?”
Charlie’s heart sinks at the suggestion. He doesn’t want Nick to leave. He wants Nick here, but how does he say that without sounding selfish? He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair.
“No,” he says finally. “Stay. I’ll... I’ll talk to him. He’ll come around. He just needs time.”
“I’m really sorry,” he says again, his voice softer this time. “I should’ve left the moment we woke up. I didn’t mean to make things complicated for you and Remy.”
Charlie shakes his head, moving closer to him. “Nick, no. It’s okay. I mean... I knew Tori and Michael were going to drop him off, and I decided I wanted you to stay here. This isn’t your fault, okay?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Remy’s just confused. He’s four. He’s seeing his dad and his teacher in the same place, outside of school, and he doesn’t know how to make sense of that. Which, honestly, makes sense.”
Nick nods but doesn’t look convinced. “I just don’t... I guess I’m a little worried he might say something at school.”
Charlie freezes at that. He hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of Remy mentioning Nick being at their house to his classmates, other teachers, or—God forbid—the parents. His stomach twists uncomfortably as the weight of that realization settles in.
“Oh,” Charlie says after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, that... that could be an issue. Especially if the other teachers find out or... or if it gets around to the administration. God, I’m such an idiot.”
Nick quickly sets his mug down and steps closer, shaking his head. “No, no, Charlie, you’re not an idiot. You didn’t think about it, and honestly, I didn’t really think about it either until just now.”
Charlie looks up at him, his expression a mixture of worry and uncertainty. “Nick, I... I really like you. I mean, I really like you. And I really want to be with you. If you’d... I don’t know, would you want to go on a date sometime? A proper one?”
Nick’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say yes. But then his expression shifts, and he sighs. “I’d really like to go on a date too,” he says slowly. “But... I don’t want to come between you and Remy. I don’t want to make things harder for him, or for you.”
Charlie’s heart sinks at his words, but he quickly shakes his head, stepping closer. “You won’t. I promise. Look, I know this is messy and... complicated, but I’ve thought about this, Nick. I want this. I want you. And I’ll figure out how to make it work with Remy. Just... give me a chance, okay?”
Charlie looks at Nick and notices a slight blush forming on his cheeks, a soft pink dusting that only makes Nick look more endearing. Nick clears his throat, shuffling awkwardly, "Well, if you want to go on a date, Friday sounds good," Nick says, his voice dipping a bit with an almost shy tone.
Charlie smiles, his own cheeks warming at the suggestion. He tugs at the hem of his sweater, glancing at Nick, who looks both adorable and slightly uncomfortable in a borrowed t-shirt that’s clearly too small for him. The sleeves stop awkwardly at his mid-arm, and the shorts he’s wearing are riding higher than either of them probably anticipated. It’s absolutely something to admire, though Charlie fights to keep his grin from growing too wide.
"Yeah, Friday works perfect," Charlie says softly, the warmth in his voice matching his smile. He wants to say more—maybe tease Nick about the outfit or ask about where they might go—but before he can, a little voice calls out from the table.
“Dada?”
Charlie turns toward the sound, spotting Remy standing with his stuffed dinosaur clutched close to his chest. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Can I go and play?” Remy asks, rocking on his heels as he looks between the two adults.
Charlie tilts his head slightly. “Yeah, bud. Do you want to go and play by yourself?”
Remy shakes his head firmly, his hair bouncing with the motion. “Um, no. I was rude to Mr. Nick, and.... he's my best friend, I want to play with him. Can he do that? I’m sorry, Mr. Nick. I didn’t mean to be ruuuude.”
Nick, taken aback by the sudden apology, smiles warmly, “Oh, bud, that’s okay. I really appreciate you saying that.”
Charlie nods, his heart softening at his son’s sincerity. “Um, let me just talk to Mr. Nick real quick, sweetheart,” Charlie says gently. “Why don’t you go into your room and pick out the toys you want to play with, okay?”
Remy nods eagerly, his earlier hesitation now replaced with excitement. “Okay, okay. I’m thinking trains!”
Charlie chuckles as Remy scampers off toward his room, already chattering to himself about which trains to bring out.
When he turns back to Nick, Charlie catches the way Nick’s lips are curved into a soft smile, his eyes warm as they follow Remy’s retreating figure.
“Ummm.... You don’t have to,” Charlie says, leaning against the counter and rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you probably weren’t expecting to spend your morning playing with trains.”
Nick shrugs, his smile widening. “Hey, how could I say no to that? Besides,” he adds, glancing at Charlie with a playful glint in his eye, “I still need to win over your son if I want that date on Friday.”
Charlie nods, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he leans against the counter. “Okay, well then, if you want to go and play with him, that’s fine. I can, you know, do the dishes and clean up a bit.”
Nick hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? Like, do you trust me to do that? If you're uncomfortable, I don’t have to. I don’t want to make things harder for him or for you.”
Charlie tilts his head, offering Nick a small, reassuring smile. “I mean, no, it should be fine. He’s just... this is new for him. It’s new for me too. I’ve never really had him out of my sight unless he’s at school. So it’s a bit of an adjustment.” He takes a deep breath, trying to push away his own nerves. “But, I mean, you’re his teacher, Nick. You know how to take care of kids and keep them safe.”
Nick’s lips quirk into a faint smile. “Well, yeah, but this is one-on-one. It’s a bit different from a classroom.”
Charlie shrugs, his voice soft but firm. “Yeah, it is. But go ahead, Nick. I trust you, really. While you’re playing with him, I can think about different ideas for our date, yeah? And if you need anything, just holler at me.”
Nick studies Charlie for a moment, a flicker of warmth crossing his face before he nods. “Okay,” he says, his voice gentle. “I’ll go play trains then. And, uh, I’ll do my best to win him over.”
Charlie chuckles, watching as Nick heads toward Remy’s room with a slightly nervous but determined look. As Nick disappears down the hall, Charlie lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He sighs, the warm water running over his hands as he rinses the dishes. The soft clink of plates and the hum of the faucet are the only sounds in the kitchen until he hears a sudden, excited squeal from Remy’s room.
“Mr. Nicky! Mr. Nicky, hi!”
Charlie freezes mid-scrub, a laugh escaping him at the pure joy in his son’s voice. He leans a little away from the sink, trying to catch what’s happening without intruding.
He hears Nick’s voice next, but it’s different—higher, gentler, and not at all like the professional tone he uses in the classroom. It’s soothing, almost fatherly, the way he responds to Remy. “Hi, buddy! What’ve you got here? Whoa, that’s a huge train set!”
Charlie shakes his head, smiling to himself. He can just imagine Nick crouched on the floor, probably letting Remy shove a train into his hands or explain every single track piece. It’s not just Nick’s words but the tone—so patient, so willing to match Remy’s excitement—that tugs at something in Charlie’s chest.
Charlie never thought this kind of life was in the cards for him—a life where he could be with someone who genuinely cared for him, someone who protected him, allowed him to be vulnerable, and, most importantly, someone who cared for his son.
The journey to this moment had been long and painful. When he first found out about Remy, the truth had shaken his entire foundation. It wasn’t even that Remy was biologically his; he wasn’t. But he was his in every way that mattered. The bond they shared was built from years of love, sleepless nights, first words, scraped knees, and bedtime stories. And yet, that wasn’t enough for some people to see him as Remy’s real parent.
Ben had made it infinitely worse. The threats, the court battle—it was all too much. Ben was determined to take Remy away, not because he truly wanted him, but because he couldn’t stand to see Charlie win. Charlie knew that deep down, Ben didn’t know their son. He didn’t know Remy’s favorite color (yellow), or the way he laughed so hard that his nose would scrunch up, or that he insisted on sleeping on his left side because he liked to face the window.
Ben didn’t love Remy. Not in the way Charlie did.
And that’s what terrified him. How was Charlie supposed to prove that he was the one who truly cared? He had no job, no financial independence, no assets. Ben had made sure of that. He was the one with the money, the one with the high-powered job, the polished suit, and the arrogance to match. Charlie, on the other hand, had been reduced to nothing more than a housewife—a role he was forced into, never allowed to leave, never allowed to grow.
When the court ruled in Charlie’s favor, it had been a victory, but one that left deep scars. It took years to rebuild his self-worth, to believe that he could be more than what Ben had convinced him he was. But the fear of losing Remy, of losing the one piece of his life that truly mattered, had stayed with him.
Until now.
Now, as Charlie listens to Nick’s soft, playful voice echo down the hallway, it’s impossible not to think about how different Nick is from Ben. Nick is kind and gentle, soft where Ben is hard, open where Ben is cruelly closed off. Nick knows how to meet people where they are, how to bring out the best in them. He has this innate ability to connect—to see people. To really see them.
And Nick cares for Remy. Truly cares.
Charlie leans against the counter, drying his hands with a towel as the thought settles. Nick isn’t just kind to Remy because it’s expected of him as a teacher. No, Nick is kind because that’s who he is. He sees Remy as a person, a little boy with dreams and fears and a favorite train named Thomas.
And somehow, impossibly, Nick cares for Charlie too.
Charlie’s chest tightens as a wave of emotions hits him. Could this really work? Could he allow himself to hope for a future with Nick—a future where he isn’t just a single dad fighting to keep his son happy, but a man who is allowed to feel joy and love and connection?
Ben has tried to take everything from him. But standing here now, listening to his son laugh and Nick’s voice rise in gentle encouragement, Charlie realizes something.
Ben might have broken him once, but Nick is helping to put him back together. Piece by piece.
Charlie is shaken from his thoughts when he hears a panicked shout: "Remy—Remy no!" from Nick, followed by a loud crash that echoes through the house. His heart stops for a moment, and then, like a bullet, Remy comes barreling down the hallway, crying and yelling, “Daddy! Dada!!!”
Charlie immediately crouches down, arms open, catching his son as he throws himself into his chest. The sobs are loud and full of panic, and as Charlie wraps his arms around him, he notices something that makes his stomach drop—a small cut on Remy’s forehead, blood dripping down, and a few scrapes along his arm. His shirt is stained with tears and specks of red, and Charlie’s heart races.
“Oh my God,” Charlie whispers, his voice tight with concern. “Remy, sweetheart, it’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Nick appears a second later, running into the room, looking pale and panicked. “Charlie, I’m so—”
“What happened?!” Charlie snaps, cutting Nick off, his voice louder than he intends. He’s trying to stay calm for Remy’s sake, but his son’s loud sobs and the sight of blood make it nearly impossible.
Nick freezes for a second, his hands in the air as if trying to surrender. “The... the bookshelf,” Nick stammers, his voice shaking. “It just—Charlie, I’m so sorry—I tried to stop it, I swear, but it was too fast. Is he okay?”
Charlie glares at Nick, one hand cradling Remy’s head, the other carefully inspecting the cut on his son’s forehead. “No, he isn’t okay! He’s bleeding! Remy, baby, I know, I know it hurts,” Charlie coos, his voice softening as he presses a kiss to the top of Remy’s head. “We’ll fix it, okay? Let’s clean it up and get a bandaid on it. Spaceships or dinos, sweetheart? Spaceships or dinos?”
Remy just sobs louder, clutching Charlie’s neck as if letting go would make everything worse. “It hurts, Daddy! I don’t want a bandaid! I don’t want it!”
“I know it hurts, baby, I know,” Charlie soothes, bouncing him gently in his arms, but his eyes flicker to Nick, sharp and demanding answers. “Nicholas, really, what the fuck happened?!”
Nick’s face crumples, guilt written all over it. He runs a hand through his hair, glancing at Remy and back at Charlie. “I looked away for just one second to grab one of his trains. I swear, just a second! And then he was climbing up his bookshelf, and I—I tried to stop him, but it happened so fast, and the shelf tipped over, and—”
“Jesus Christ,” Charlie mutters, cutting Nick off again. He adjusts Remy in his arms, cradling him tightly. “Nick, you can’t just look away with him. He’s four. He doesn’t know any better!”
“I know, I know, I messed up, Charlie. I’m so sorry,” Nick says, his voice cracking. He looks genuinely distraught, his hands trembling at his sides.
“Sorry doesn’t fix this!” Charlie snaps, but then he takes a deep breath, looking down at Remy. His son is still crying, his little hands fisting Charlie’s shirt. Charlie softens, focusing on what matters most—getting Remy cleaned up and calm. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll make it all better.”
As Charlie carries Remy toward the bathroom, Nick follows a step behind, his expression wracked with guilt. “Charlie, please, let me help.”
“Just—stay out of the way, Nick,” Charlie says tightly. “I need to focus on Remy right now.”
Nick stops in the hallway, watching as Charlie disappears into the bathroom, Remy’s cries echoing down the hall. He runs a hand down his face, feeling like the worst person in the world.
Charlie sets Remy gently on the bathroom counter, pressing soft kisses to his tear-streaked cheeks. “Can you stay right here for me, bubs? Just for a minute while I grab your baby blanket and Dino from your room?”
Remy sniffles, his big eyes glistening with tears, and he nods, wiping at his face with his little hands. But the moment Charlie turns to leave, more tears stream down, and a quiet hiccup escapes his lips.
Charlie’s heart squeezes painfully at the sight, but he keeps his voice calm and soothing. “I’ll be right back, okay, sweetheart? Just stay right here, my brave boy.”
He steps out of the bathroom and heads toward Remy’s room. The moment he crosses the threshold, his breath catches in his throat. The chaos hits him like a truck. Books are scattered everywhere, and the once-sturdy five-shelf bookcase is now toppled onto the floor, completely off its handles that were supposed to be secured to the wall. The screws have popped out, and the shelf lies there like a defeated giant in a battlefield of picture books and toys.
“Jesus Christ,” Charlie mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He carefully steps around the mess, navigating through the chaos to find Remy’s baby blanket and his favorite dino plush.
He’s about to turn and leave when he hears soft footsteps behind him. Turning his head, he sees Nick standing hesitantly in the doorway, his face pale and drawn with guilt.
Charlie sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose again, a reflex for the stress brewing in his chest. “Nick, move.”
“I will, I will,” Nick says quickly, holding his hands up. “I just—” His voice cracks, and his gaze drops to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”
Charlie stops in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Nick’s appearance. Nick’s arms are dotted with fresh cuts and scrapes, little red lines running along his skin. There are tiny bits of wood chipping from the fallen shelves tangled in his ginger-blond hair, and a large cut runs along his cheekbone. He looks like he’s been through a small battlefield of his own.
Nick shifts uncomfortably under Charlie’s gaze. “I tried to stop it,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I swear, I tried.”
Charlie’s shoulders sag as he takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger. He clutches the blanket and Dino to his chest, his frustration slowly giving way to exhaustion. “That’s...” He starts, but his words falter. He shakes his head, closing his eyes briefly before speaking again. “Just... Can you please sit in my bedroom for a second, Nick? I need to take care of Remy and hopefully get him down for a nap so he’s not fussy all day.”
Nick opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again, his expression pained. Finally, he nods. “Okay. I’ll... I’ll sit in your room.”
Charlie watches as Nick turns and walks down the hall, shoulders slumped and head bowed. Another deep sigh escapes Charlie’s lips as he grips the blanket and Dino tighter and heads back to the bathroom.
Charlie kneels down in front of Remy, his warm smile hiding the lingering stress from what he just saw in the bedroom. He gently kisses Remy on the forehead, brushing a stray tear from his cheek.
When Remy sees his blanket and Dino in Charlie’s hands, his little arms shoot out, fingers wiggling in eager grabby motions.
“Daddy,” Remy hiccups, his voice still thick with tears, “mine?”
Charlie chuckles softly, his heart aching at how small and fragile his son looks right now. “I’ll give them to you, bubs,” he says gently, holding the items just out of reach, “but you gotta promise to hold them tight while I clean your boo-boos, yeah?”
Remy sniffles and nods, his lips trembling as he clutches onto Charlie’s words like a lifeline. “Okay, Daddy. I hold tight. Super tight.”
“That’s my brave boy,” Charlie murmurs as he hands over the blanket and the plush dinosaur. Remy immediately hugs them to his chest, his little fingers curling around the soft fabric and fur.
“Super tight, see?” Remy says, showing Charlie how firmly he’s holding them.
“I see,” Charlie says with a fond smile. “Now let’s take care of those boo-boos, okay? Spaceships or dinos for your band-aids today?”
Remy pauses, thinking hard. “Dinos,” he decides with a sniffle, holding up his dino plush as proof of his choice.
Charlie nods, reaching for the first-aid kit. “Dinos it is, bubs. Let’s get you all patched up.”
Charlie works quickly and gently, his fingers steady as he cleans the scratches on Remy’s arm and forehead. Each time the antiseptic touches his skin, Remy flinches, his little face scrunching up in pain, and Charlie’s heart twists.
“I know, bubs, I know,” Charlie whispers, his voice soothing as he kisses Remy’s temple. “I’m almost done, okay? Just one more little wipe.”
But Remy’s sniffles quickly turn to sobs, and as Charlie finishes placing the last dino band-aid on his forehead, Remy cries out, “Why did Mr. Nick hurt me?”
Charlie freezes, his hand still resting lightly on Remy’s arm. His stomach churns at the accusation, even though he knows Remy is just a little boy trying to make sense of a scary situation.
“Oh, baby,” Charlie says softly, crouching down so he’s eye-level with Remy. “It wasn’t Mr. Nick, sweetheart. It was just the bookshelf. It fell, that’s all. Mr. Nick didn’t hurt you.”
Remy shakes his head, clutching his blanket tighter and hiccuping through his tears. “But he’s supposed to keep me safe!” he wails, his small voice trembling with emotion.
Charlie exhales slowly, his chest heavy with guilt and sadness as he gently brushes a hand through Remy’s hair. “I know, sweetheart. And he tried to. Mr. Nick was trying to stop the bookshelf from falling, but sometimes things happen too fast. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt, okay? He was so worried about you.”
Remy sniffles, his wide eyes glistening with fresh tears. “He was?”
Charlie nods firmly. “He was. He even got hurt trying to help you. He has some scratches too, just like you. Mr. Nick cares about you a lot, bubs. He’d never, ever want you to get hurt.”
Remy’s bottom lip wobbles as he processes this, and he leans into Charlie’s chest, clutching his blanket and Dino tightly. “Okay, Daddy,” he whispers. “But I’m still mad.”
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Charlie says softly, rubbing soothing circles on Remy’s back. “You’re allowed to feel mad. But maybe later, when you’re ready, we can talk to Mr. Nick about it together. How does that sound?”
Remy doesn’t respond right away, just nods slightly against Charlie’s chest, his hiccups slowly subsiding as the comfort of his dad’s embrace calms him.
Charlie holds Remy close, kissing his cheeks softly, rocking him back and forth as he hums a gentle lullaby. He feels Remy’s small body relax bit by bit, his cries turning into sniffles. As Charlie brushes a hand through his son’s hair, Remy mumbles, “Daddy.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?” Charlie answers, his voice soft and full of patience.
“I don’t like Mr. Nick right now,” Remy says quietly, his voice still trembling.
Charlie sighs, his heart aching at his son’s words. “I know, sweetheart,” he says, pressing another kiss to Remy’s forehead. “I’m so sorry you got hurt. But Mr. Nick didn’t want this to happen, okay?”
Remy doesn’t respond, just leans more heavily into Charlie’s chest. Charlie takes a deep breath, adjusts Remy in his arms, and walks him over to the couch. He gently places him down, grabbing the remote to turn on his favorite cartoon. As the familiar sounds of bright animation fill the room, Charlie kneels down in front of him, brushing a hand over his son’s blanket.
“Remy,” he says softly, “can you try and take a nap for me? Your boo-boos will feel so much better if you get some rest, okay?”
Remy looks up at him, his eyelids already drooping, and nods. “Okay, Dada.”
Charlie smiles warmly, tucking the blanket around him. “Will you be okay here by yourself for a little bit?”
“Mmmhmm,” Remy hums, clutching his Dino tightly. “Sleepy.”
Charlie leans down, pressing one last kiss to his forehead. “Alright, bubs. I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?”
Remy nods, already starting to drift off, and Charlie stands, letting out a soft exhale. He glances back at his son, who’s snuggled into the couch, before heading down the hallway. It’s time to face Nick.
When Charlie enters the bedroom, he sees Nick sitting on the edge of the bed, his head down, fingers nervously twisting together. The moment Nick hears the door open, he looks up and quickly stands, his movements stiff and uncertain.
Charlie lets out a long sigh, the weight of the morning pressing heavily on him. He steps inside, leaving the door slightly ajar, and gestures for Nick to follow him. “Come on,” Charlie says softly, his voice even but weary.
Nick hesitates for a second, his eyes scanning Charlie’s face as if searching for a clue about what’s to come. Then he nods and follows Charlie to the master bathroom. Once inside, Charlie flips on the light, closing the door behind them to give them some privacy. He grabs a clean towel from the rack and sets it on the counter before turning to Nick, who is still standing there awkwardly.
"Sit," Charlie says, pointing to the closed toilet lid.
Nick does as he’s told, his head hanging slightly. “Charlie, I—”
“Not yet,” Charlie interrupts, holding up a hand. He moves to the sink, wetting the towel with warm water. “Let me take care of that cut first.”
Nick frowns but doesn’t argue, sitting silently as Charlie returns with the damp towel and some antiseptic wipes. As Charlie kneels in front of him, Nick flinches slightly at the closeness, but Charlie doesn’t pull back.
“This might sting,” Charlie murmurs, carefully dabbing at the cut on Nick’s cheek.
Nick doesn’t flinch this time, though his jaw tightens. “You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.
Charlie doesn't say anything, just finishes cleaning the cut, and moves to check Nick’s arms, noticing the small scratches there. “I’ll get some bandages for these,” he says, standing to grab them from the cabinet.
Nick looks up at him, his voice soft but full of guilt. “How’s Remy?”
Charlie freezes for a moment, his back to Nick, before turning around with a box of bandages in hand. “He’s upset,” he admits, kneeling back down to tend to Nick’s arms. “He’s four. He doesn’t understand that accidents happen. He’s scared, and I don’t blame him for that.”
Nick nods, his eyes cast down again. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Stop,” Charlie cuts him off firmly, but not unkindly. He presses a bandage to one of the scratches on Nick’s forearm and smooths it down with his thumb.
Nick shifts uncomfortably on the toilet seat, his fingers still fidgeting. “I… I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low and full of guilt.
Charlie lets out a soft sigh, shaking his head as he grabs another clean towel. “Not yet,” he says firmly, setting the towel on the counter before turning to Nick. “Take your shirt off.”
Nick hesitates for a moment but then nods, lifting his arms to pull his too-tight shirt over his head. He winces as the movement pulls at his skin, letting out a sharp hiss of pain.
Charlie’s brow furrows as he steps closer, gently taking the shirt from Nick’s hands and tossing it onto the counter. “Where’s it hurt?” he asks, his voice soft but steady.
Nick looks down, his fingers clasping together nervously. “My back,” he murmurs.
Charlie hums softly, reaching for a clean towel and the antiseptic again. “Turn around for me,” he says gently.
Nick obeys without hesitation, shifting on the closed toilet seat so he’s straddling it backward, his back fully exposed to Charlie. The moment Charlie gets a clear view, he nearly gasps, his breath catching in his throat. A large, angry cut runs along Nick’s back, stretching from his shoulder to the middle of his spine. It isn’t deep, thankfully, but it’s red and raw, small streaks of dried blood marking its edges.
“Oh, Nick,” Charlie murmurs, the words full of quiet concern.
Nick stiffens slightly at the tone, tilting his head back as if to look over his shoulder. “What? Is it bad?”
Charlie shakes his head, though Nick can’t see him. “Not bad, but it’s… it’s big. It’s not deep, but it definitely needs to be cleaned. You’ve really done a number on yourself.”
Nick lets out a dry laugh, resting his forearms on the back of the toilet and leaning his head against them. “Yeah, well… I guess it’s what I get for hurting a child.”
Charlie shakes his head again, his lips pressing into a thin line as he wets the towel and adds antiseptic to it. “This is going to sting,” he warns softly, placing a hand on Nick’s uninjured shoulder for reassurance before beginning to dab at the cut.
Nick hisses sharply, his back tensing under Charlie’s careful touch. “Shit,” he mutters, clenching his fists.
“Sorry,” Charlie says quickly, his voice soothing. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but it has to be cleaned.”
Charlie finishes dabbing the last cut on Nick's arm, the antiseptic sting making Nick flinch slightly. With a satisfied nod, Charlie sets the cloth and bottle down on the counter, his movements methodical but brisk. Then he steps back, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on Nick.
“Alright,” Charlie says, his tone firm but not unkind. “Talk.”
Nick blinks at him, looking momentarily startled. “Talk?” he echoes, his voice uncertain.
“Yes, Nick. Talk,” Charlie repeats, his expression unwavering. “You’ve been apologizing non-stop, but I need more than ‘I’m sorry.’ I need to know what actually happened.”
Nick stands up suddenly and he watches Nick pace in front of him, hands running through his hair as he stammers out apologies. It’s a mess of words, tumbling over each other, and Charlie just lets him go. He’s seen this before—this frantic need to explain, to justify, to take the blame for everything all at once.
“I’m so sorry,” Nick starts, his voice cracking slightly. “I really did try to save him. He wanted to play with his trains, and then he pointed at this book, said it matched one of the train names. He asked me to grab the train, and I—God, I looked away for just one second, Charlie. One second!”
Charlie crosses his arms tighter, leaning back against the wall as he listens. He wants to be angry, wants to stay mad, but as Nick keeps going, the sharp edges of his frustration start to dull.
“And then I hear the sound, and I see him climbing the bookshelf. And I—I told him no, I tried to stop him, but it all just happened so fast,” Nick rambles, his voice getting higher and more strained with every word. “I couldn’t grab him and the bookshelf in time, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I just—I thought if I could use my body, maybe I could block the books or the shelves from hitting him. But I guess some of it still got him. And, Charlie, I swear I wasn’t thinking, I was just... I didn’t know what else to do.”
Nick’s hands are trembling now, and Charlie notices the way his gaze darts around the room, never landing on him for more than a second. His shoulders are hunched, his whole body radiating guilt, and Charlie feels something shift inside him.
“I thought I was helping, but I wasn’t enough,” Nick says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “He still got hurt, and now you’re mad, and he’s upset, and I—I’m so sorry.”
Charlie exhales slowly, letting the silence settle for a moment. Nick’s words hang in the air, heavy and raw, and for a second, Charlie doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell Nick that it’s okay, that accidents happen, that he’s not mad. But the words feel too small for everything Nick is carrying right now.
“Nick,” Charlie says finally, his voice softer than he expects. “Just stop.”
Nick freezes, his mouth snapping shut as he looks at Charlie, his eyes wide and glassy. There’s guilt written all over his face, and it makes Charlie’s chest ache.
Charlie exhales shakily, leaning against the bathroom counter, his hands gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles turn white. His gaze fixes somewhere beyond Nick, as if he’s looking through him, lost in a memory that clearly holds too much weight.
“Nick,” Charlie starts, his voice low, trembling slightly, “you don’t know what it’s like. To live in a house where every sound—a crash, a bang, even something falling—instantly means someone’s hurt someone else. Intentionally.”
Nick watches him, his brows furrowed, his mouth slightly open as though he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He stays silent, letting Charlie speak.
“That’s all I ever experienced with my ex-husband, Ben,” Charlie continues, the name falling from his lips like a bitter weight. “It was always something. Things getting thrown. Yelling that made your ears ring. Fists slamming against walls or—” He swallows hard, his voice cracking. “Or me.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep, unsteady breath. “So you’ve got to understand, Nick... my son, my son comes before anything else. Because of my past, trusting anyone else to care for him, to protect him, to love him the way he deserves to be loved... that doesn’t come easy. It’s not easy to let someone in. To let someone else share that responsibility.”
Nick doesn’t dare interrupt, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. He’s staring at Charlie like he’s unraveling an intricate, heartbreaking puzzle.
Charlie shakes his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because to me, Nick... an adult you know and love can be just as cruel as anything else. And when I see my son, my little boy, come running to me with blood on his forehead, crying his eyes out... I’m back there. I’m back to being that 22-year-old who just found out Ben had cheated on me. I’m back to trying to tell him off about it and standing my ground, but getting slapped across the face for daring to speak up.”
His voice trembles now, barely audible. “I’m back to running to my sister’s house with a swollen cheek and tears down my face, begging for her to help me clean up my wounds—physical and emotional.”
Nick shifts slightly, like he’s physically holding himself back from reaching out to Charlie. His voice is soft when he finally speaks. “Charlie, I... I’m so sorry.”
Charlie shakes his head again, this time with more finality. “I don’t need your pity, Nick. I need your understanding. When I get angry, when I snap... it’s because my past is always right there, waiting to claw its way back in. And when something happens to Remy, it doesn’t just remind me of how much I love him. It reminds me of all the ways I failed to protect myself. And how I swore I’d never let that happen to him.”
His voice, when it comes, is heavy with emotion. “I know it’s different,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “You didn’t hurt him on purpose, Nick. I know that.”
Nick watches him, his brows knit together in concern, waiting, letting Charlie take his time.
“But he’s my life, Nick,” Charlie continues, his voice breaking slightly. “He’s my... my everything. If I didn’t have him...” He pauses, swallowing hard as his gaze drops to the floor. “If I didn’t have him, I wouldn’t be here. Alright? I wouldn’t have made it through all of it—Ben, the court battles, the nights where I didn’t even know how I was going to make it to the next morning. Remy is the reason I did.”
Nick’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed in his chest as he steps a little closer, though he still keeps enough distance to not overwhelm Charlie.
“And seeing him hurt, regardless of the how or the why... it makes me feel like I’ve failed all over again.” Charlie’s voice is barely above a whisper now, and he looks up, his eyes glistening but fierce. “Like I didn’t protect him. Like I didn’t do enough. And that’s... that’s the worst feeling, Nick. Because I promised myself, I promised him, that I’d never let anyone hurt him. Not the way I was hurt. Not ever.”
Nick's face softens as he listens, his eyes filling with understanding and guilt. “Charlie, I would never, ever try to hurt him,” he says firmly, his voice trembling just slightly. He looks so earnest, so desperate to reassure, but Charlie shakes his head, cutting him off.
“I know that!” Charlie says, his voice rising just enough to betray how deeply this has shaken him. “I know you didn’t mean to, Nick. But...” He exhales, running a hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck. “My instinct when the people I love get hurt is to run. To push away. It’s how I’ve survived—because that’s what Ben taught me. That when things go wrong, it’s somehow my fault, and I’m the one who’s going to break everything.”
Nick’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, letting Charlie work through the thoughts pouring out of him.
“And I know, Nick, I know you tried to keep him safe. I see the scratches on your arms—you have the marks to show for it. But he’s my baby. He’s my baby.” Charlie’s voice cracks on the last word, and he swallows hard, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Every little scratch, every single moment that he’s unhappy, it’s like the universe is reminding me of everything Ben used to say. That I’d fail. That I’m useless. That I can’t protect him.”
Charlie’s shoulders slump as he takes a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to steady his voice. “So please, Nick... please don’t let that happen again. I know he’s a kid—he’s going to get scratched, and bruised, and he’s going to fall, and he’s going to get hurt. But you have to watch him, okay? Please, just... watch him.”
Nick nods quickly, his eyes wide with the weight of Charlie’s words. “I will, Charlie. I promise.”
Charlie shakes his head again, sighing as he finally looks up to meet Nick’s gaze. “If we’re going to do this, if we’re going to go out on dates and test our luck with feelings, I need to know I can trust you. With him. Because I can handle the hits, the scars, the yells—I’ve done that my whole life. But Remy? My son?” He pauses, his voice dropping into something softer but no less fierce. “I’ll never let anyone or anything hurt him if I can stop it. Not ever.”
Nick’s face crumples as if Charlie’s words physically strike him. His hands, trembling slightly, reach out to cup Charlie’s face, but he hesitates, lowering them instead. His voice is soft, almost pleading. “Charlie, baby, I would never. Never snap at you, never hurt you. That’s not... that’s not right. That’s not love."
Charlie flinches, his arms folding across his chest as if trying to shield himself from something invisible. “I know you say that, but I’ve heard it all before. Words are easy.” His voice wavers, the vulnerability creeping in. “And I... I need you to promise. If it ever gets to that point, you do it to me, not to him, okay? Just promise me that.”
Nick’s eyes widen in horror, his voice cracking as he says, “Charlie, no. I’m not... I’m not Ben. I’m not... God, I’d never lay a hand on you or him, not in anger, not in anything but love.”
Charlie’s breath hitches, and he shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “I know you say it won’t get to that point. I know you’re not him. But I’ve seen it, Nick. I’ve lived it. The switch, the change—it’s so subtle at first, you don’t even notice. And then suddenly, you’re trapped in it.” His voice cracks, his gaze darting away. “So please. Just promise me you won’t lay a hand on him. Ever.”
Nick steps closer, his hand hovering in the air before gently resting on Charlie’s shoulder. “I promise,” he says firmly, his voice steady even as emotion pools in his eyes. “I swear to you, Charlie, I will never, ever hurt him. Or you. I... I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”
Charlie looks up, his lip trembling, and he nods, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”
Charlie crumbles, his resolve breaking as he pulls Nick into a tight embrace, burying his face in Nick’s neck. His voice trembles as he speaks. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, Nick. I’m so sorry. I yelled, and I got mad, and now we have this whole mess with Remy to fix. You tried, and I didn’t even acknowledge that. I’m so sorry.”
Nick strokes Charlie’s back gently, his own chest tightening at the weight of Charlie’s guilt. “Hey, hey, Char,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “I’m alright. It’s just a few scratches, yeah? Nothing I can’t handle.”
Charlie pulls back slightly, his teary eyes scanning Nick’s face as if looking for confirmation. He wipes at his own cheeks, letting out a shaky laugh. “Just a few scratches…” he repeats softly, before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Nick’s lips. The kiss is tender, full of unspoken gratitude and remorse.
Nick feels his cheeks flush when Charlie pushes him back onto the bed, his hands firm yet careful. “Uh, Char,” Nick stammers, his voice catching slightly. “We, uh... we have Remy home, remember?”
Charlie lets out a warm laugh, his eyes sparkling for the first time in hours. “He’s out like a light for at least another thirty minutes,” he says, grinning. “Trust me, it’s like clockwork.”
Nick raises an eyebrow, a slow smile forming on his lips despite himself. “Oh, is that so?” he teases, but his breath hitches when Charlie leans down, his hands resting on either side of Nick’s shoulders, trapping him in place.
“Mm-hmm,” Charlie hums, his voice low and playful. “Now stop talking, and let me show you just how sorry I am.”
The look on Nick’s face is priceless—half surprise, half fond amusement—and it makes Charlie’s chest ache in the best way. He presses his lips to Nick’s again, this time slower, more deliberate. Every movement is a silent apology, a promise that he’ll do better.
As Nick melts into the kiss, Charlie feels his own walls finally start to come down. For the first time in what feels like forever, he’s letting someone in, fully and completely.