39 ⦿ in which i go home

When the door opens, I'm surprised to see Levi standing there. "How—" I begin to ask.

"Brett told me you came to her place," he interjects, sensing the direction my question is heading.

For a moment, I feel a rush of betrayal, and then it fades away in a slow, ebbing flow. Sometimes the intimacy of mutual friendships means secrets don't stay secret very long. It's never bothered me, sharing my friends. I've never looked at it as losing one friend to another, rather that all three of us only become closer than before.

But this moment bothers me. Not because Brett blabbed my whereabout to someone, but because of all my friends, Levi was the one who I wanted to see the most - and the only one who I couldn't.

"Can I come in?"

At his question, I realize belatedly that I've fallen silent. "Oh, right. Sorry." I stand aside, holding the door open. "Brett already went to bed." I don't know why I tell him that - it's not like it's her he's come to see.

Brett's apartment is cramped and has an overpowering smell of Clorox disinfectant wipes. What she lacks in space, she makes up for in cleanliness. She religiously picks dead leaves out of her plants, straightens her bookshelves at least once a day, and wipes down remotes, keyboards, and kitchen appliances once a week.

We move to the living room, which is about four feet from the kitchen and ten feet from the front door. Brett's couch, my bed for the night, is already made up with sheets and a plump pillow. The lights in the living room are dim because Brett buys high efficiency, low wattage light bulbs. Shrouded in yellow, unflattering light, the two of us stand there looking at each other until I can't take it anymore.

"Why did you come?" I ask, even though the real question I want to ask is Did Wolf send you?

Levi nudges the pillow away from one end of the couch and sits down, rumpling the crisp white sheets, obliterating Brett's painstaking efforts. "Wolf called me and asked if you were at my place. He called Xander first and said you guys had words and that you left. He assumed you'd come to me." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Why didn't you?"

"You're his brother. I can't talk to you about him."

"I'm your friend, Charlotte. Always."

His earnestness hurts me, because I know that it's the truth. I sit down next to him, cross-legged, and try not to fidget. "I know that. I've always known that. Always appreciated it. But just like my first instinct isn't to run to Wolf, I shouldn't—I can't—keep running to you and Xander."

He frowns, as though my admission has wounded him on a deep, personal level. "Of course you—"

"Levi, I can't. You're moving and Xander's getting married. To Wolf's sister. It's not like I can expect him to be totally impartial."

It looks like we've reached an impasse. Both of us fall silent, each assured of our own viewpoint, but having the good sense not to argue about it further.

I look at him, memorize the lines of his face and the curve of his chin; outline the purse of his bowtie lips and the length of his neck. He looks back at me and I wonder what he sees. There is no scorching hunger or penetrating perusal like there is with Wolf. There is only careful scrutiny and warmth. It feels so much better than the former. A shaky breath escapes me, which he notices.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "Wolf...he wasn't really clear on what happened. Did you two have a fight?"

"No." I glance at my hands. "I just realized something that I should have realized a long time ago."

"Are you still marrying him?"

"I agreed to, so I'm going to see it through. Just because I can't be around him right now doesn't mean I'm going to hang him out to dry."

Levi nods. "That's decent of you. More decent than he..." He shakes his head, a rueful laugh on his lips. "I was going to say it was more decent than he deserved. But I don't really want to keep slinging barbs at him anymore. I'm not a kid anymore."

"As evidenced by your leaving."

I don't mean for my voice to sound so sour, but it still comes out that way. Levi blinks at me and we fall into silence, neither of us sure what to say, and reluctant to break the uneasy quiet that now strings between us like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

Outside, there's a heavy thud and high-pitched laughter. A man's deep voice and a woman's drunken giggles. A moment later, tottering steps in quick succession, and the scrape of a body against the wall.

"Drunk," Levi whispers, a trace of a laugh in his voice.

There's another giggle and then the footsteps begin to recede, trailing away in sync to a masculine timbre.

"That's what Brett gets for living above a bar," I say with a heavy sigh.

We forget to be awkward. "Are you happy, Charlotte?"

It's on the tip of my tongue to say yes, to assure him that I am Charlotte Wright and I'm basking in heaps of happiness, enough to choke on. But the words, ironically enough, wrap their tiny tendrils around my throat and strangle me. I can't say it. I can't say it because it isn't true.

"I thought I was," I say. "I thought life was good."

And then Wolfram van der Waals came back. And now I'm not so sure.

"Come with me," Levi says, and for a moment I think I don't hear him right.

"What?" My eyebrows shoot toward my hairline.

"Come. With. Me." Each word is slowly enunciated until there is no mistaking his meaning.

"I can't take the moral high ground if I'm running off with Wolf's brother." I sigh. "Levi, can I tell you something?" Without waiting for his answer, I plunge forward. "Wolf said his apartment was my home. But it wasn't. Not really. It was just a place, a room where I happened to sleep and a kitchen where I happened to eat. He tried to make it home for me, but it was all just things. Not memories. Not friendship."

Brett's peace lily plant draws my gaze. It sits on the coffee table in front of us, brilliant green leaves splaying in all directions. Thin stems reach skyward, toward a sun that isn't there, the tips delicate, ivory petals.

"My first impulse was to run to you. Because I realized something, and I think I realized it a long time ago, Levi, but I've never said it." I take a breath, inhaling like it's Dutch courage. "You're my home, Levi. It's not a place. It's wherever you are."

For a moment I'm terrified, because somehow my admission is as real as telling Wolf I've fallen for him. It feels wrong to compare the two emotions, as though they're somehow equal. They're not.

Levi's hand creeps over mine. He squeezes, urging me to look at him. "Wolf was your past. He doesn't have to be your future."

It feels like he's throwing me a lifeline, but I can't grab it because Wolf's still drowning and damn it all, I feel a nagging responsibility to save him, too.

"Levi..."

Abruptly, Levi shakes his head. "Don't say anything right now. I don't want to say anything—and I don't want you to say anything—until things are settled with Wolf."

Will they ever be settled? If Levi feels like home, then why am I an unhappy tenant trying to find a vacation home in an inhospitable, arctic climate?

"You can't always be torn in two." Levi squeezes my hand again and he stands up, looking anywhere but at me. "It's late. You should—"

"Sleep!" I blurt out, latching onto the excuse. My entire hand tingles where he's touched me and I'm sure my cheeks are scarlet.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "I'll uh, see you at the gallery?"

Shit. I almost forgot about the gallery exhibition. "Of course. I'll be there."

Levi is almost at the door when he turns around and looks at me. "And Char?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't bother trying to get Wolf to come. We both know he only does what he wants to do." The door opens and he slips out before I have a chance to say goodnight. Maybe he wanted it that way. Maybe saying goodnight sounded too much like goodbye.

I sigh, throwing myself onto the couch like a child. My pillow lands on the floor.

"Don't forget to lock the door! I don't live in as good a neighborhood as you and lover boy!" Brett calls out.

I jolt upright, heart pounding madly. "Brett!"

I'm almost screeching as I hurtle toward her bedroom door, and without ceremony, throw it open. I stand in the doorway, hands on my hips, gaping at her. "You were awake this whole time?"

A Brett-shaped lump in the center of her bed moves, although all I can see is her bright pink comforter and a shock of blonde hair peeking out from the top.

"Brett!" I jump on top of the bed, trapping her legs between mine.

Her exhilarated shriek echoes in my ears as I snag her comforter and yank it down, exposing her sheepish, gleeful face. "Charlotte!" she retaliates, burrowing even deeper under her blanket, ducking her head from view.

"I can't believe you eavesdropped," I complain, tossing myself next to her. Panting, I let myself relax, waiting until my heartbeat slows down before I turn to face her. Propping my head in my elbow, I silently gaze at her, willing her to emerge from her self-imposed cocoon.

"Why can't things like that happen to me?" she moans, sidling her body up until our eyes meet.

"Maybe if you tell Dash you're into him, they would."

"What?" Her eyelashes rapidly blink.

"I'm just saying, it's totally obvious."

She scrunches her nose at me. "Shut up. Let me sleep."

I grin at her reluctance to speak on the subject of our mutual actor friend, but let it slide. For now, anyway. "So no advice to impart?" I ask, wiggling closer to her so I can lay my head on the same pillow.

"Are you willing to hear what I have to say?"

"Of course! That's why I'm asking."

She sighs, rolling over so she's on her back. We stare at the same ceiling until she says, "No, I mean really hear me. Not just listen and nod. Really hear it."

"Okay." I have to admit, now I'm a little worried about where this is heading.

"I know this goes against your hard work achieves the best results work ethic, but Char, not everything that's difficult or a challenge is worth having. Life pretty much universally teaches us that if the road is long and hard, what's waiting for us on the other end will be so worth it. High school. College. Career. The thing they don't teach us is that there's a difference between struggling for struggling's own sake and something—or someone—worth the struggle."

I don't say anything because I'm pretty sure if I open my mouth, all that will come out is a blubbering sniffle. Wetness burns my eyes and my throat feels dry. I sit upright, pulling my knees up. "You think Wolf isn't worth the struggle?" I whisper, feeling almost traitorous.

No answer.

"Brett?" I poke her shoulder gently.

A soft snuffle is my only reply. Her arm flops over the edge of the bed, dangling toward the floor. With a sigh, I get up, rearrange her body in a more comfortable position, and creep out of her bedroom.

Once the door is locked and the lights are turned off, I retreat to the couch. Instead of tucking the pillow behind my head, I brace it against my stomach, holding it tight against my body.

How is it possible that the big moments of my life, both wonderful and terrible, always have something to do with the van der Waals?

Author's Note: Hola! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and have some awesome feedback to leave me on how things are progressing from here!

Do you guys like Brett? :) What do you think of her monologue at the end?

Also, do you guys think Xander, Levi, Graeme, and Brett have had enough "screen time" in the story to make them seem three-dimensional characters?