He didn’t. He was a good man.
Following her upstairs, he went until they got to the same apartment he’d once lived in with Charity and Stevie. The moment they stepped over the threshold, Bad tensed up.
Ten years ago, the place had been fully furnished. They couldn’t afford to keep Stevie and Charity’s parents’ place. The apartment was the next best thing, and they had fun attempting to fit as much furniture in as possible. All that furniture was gone.
He didn’t understand it. “Have you been robbed?” he asked.
“What?” Charity asked, moving across the room toward the bathroom. She came out with a towel, throwing one toward him.
“Where’s all the furniture?” he asked.
“I sold it.”
“Why?” There was a single chair in the main living room. That was it.
“Because I’m not going to be living here after a couple of days.”
“You’re not?” Every year, he checked on her to make sure she was okay, that nothing bad was going on in her world.
Why was she moving?
Couldn’t she afford the rent?
He knew she didn’t stick to one job. Charity hated to stay in one place for any length of time.
“No. I’ve already handled the rent with the landlord. It’s time for me to move on. I’ll be leaving for good,” Charity said.
“But … why?” Bad asked.
“Because I don’t want to stay here, Bad. I loved my brother so much, and I know a part of me feels a little guilty about selling our stuff and moving on, but this is my life. I’ve been here for ten years, and I will keep coming back to visit him, but this was my brother’s dream for me. Not mine. It was never mine. It was why we argued so much.” She shrugged. “I’ve spent ten years living the life he wanted for me, and I’m not happy. I know, deep down, that he’ll be pissed, but he will also want me to do things that make me happy.”
Chapter Two
Charity waited for the moment he’d lose it.
This was the first real decision she had made for herself, and she wasn’t going to lie about how excited she was about it.
Bad just stared at her.
She continued to dry her hair.
He held the towel in his grip, but he was dripping onto the floor.
“Bad, you’re dripping,” she said, pointing to the floor.
“You can’t just leave.”
“Of course, I can. There’s nothing here to stop me.”
“But your brother?”
“What about him? I know Stevie wanted what was best for me, and I have tried to live that way for ten years, Bad. Ten freaking years, but I know my brother, and he would much rather see me happy than living a life he thinks will make me happy.” She sighed. “I expected you to understand.”
“Why?”
“You’re living your life. You’re living the dream. Don’t you think I know?” she asked.
“Know what?”