We leave for the hospital after midnight, and it’s nearly three when a nurse finally finds Mark and me in the waiting room.

During our wait, we took turns pacing, while the other sat in one of the ugly green chairs, staring blankly at the cold, tile floors. All that we had to listen to was the other’s footsteps mixed with the hum of the television that seemed to be speaking to itself in the corner of the room – which was more of a hallway, really.

We barely spoke. Most of what we did say was nervous chatter – hardly memorable. The exception to that was an apology, made my Mark, for having put Charlie in danger in the first place, on the night of his original injury.

“I look at Charlie like a son,” he said, “I should have protected him like one. Then again, look at how I treat my own son.” He rubbed his chin and started to pace again, but stops after just two slow steps. “I was so glad when he started hanging around you. He finally had someone to be close to. Now you have to deal with all of this, because of me.

“Charlie would never get into a situation like that unless he was trying to protect someone. It’s my fault. It’s always my fault. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think of this as any kind of burden. I want him safe, of course. But I’m lucky to know someone who is willing to protect people, like he is.”

I turn in my seat as the nurse approaches, gripping the armrest. I feel too tired to speak, to even ask for the news that I’ve been waiting for. She must notice the bags under my eyes, or the lack of color in my skin, or the way that my curls better qualify as tangles, because she offers me a sympathetic smile and begins to speak.

“Charlie’s fine now. He has a serious infection. It originated from the puncture wound. We’ve gotten his fever down, and given him medicine to begin to treat the infection. He’s no longer nauseous, but he’s very tired. He is already asleep and will likely sleep through the night.”

I sigh, but rather than feel relief flood over me, all of my nerves wash away and leave only the feeling of pure and total exhaustion.

I stand form my seat and look to Mark.

“I know he wants you to stay with him, but he told me to try to coax you back to the hotel so you could sleep better. Should I even bother?”

“No,” I smile, “I’ll just see you in the morning. Thank you for coming with us.”

“Of course.”

He nods to me, and then to the nurse, who waves for me to follow in the direction of Charlie’s room.

As before, Charlie’s size is at odds with the hospital bed. But he looks blissfully comfortable, nonetheless.

The bed is not fully reclined, leaving him sitting up slightly in his sleep. He looks as if he fell asleep rather suddenly. His hands are clasped in his lap, and he faces almost entirely ahead, his head falling to the side only slightly.

“He thought he could stay awake,” the nurse says before leaving me, “He wasn’t sure if you’d stayed.”

She asks me if I need anything, to which I shake my head and thank her. She smiles as she turns down the hall. I assess what I have to sleep on: a small sofa, which is likely a pullout. But I don’t plan to find out. I go to Charlie’s bedside and kiss his forehead before padding tiredly to the sofa and trying to find a position that is both conducive to sleep and leaves my body touching as little of the small couch as possible.

I settle with crossing my legs, propping my elbow against the armrest and leaning my cheek against my hand. When it becomes unbearable, I settle for my arm being folded against the armrest to support my head and move my legs onto the sofa, trying to forget my cleanliness-woes.

I wake in the morning – not long after falling asleep – just as a doctor is leaving after checking on Charlie.

“They aren’t even making me stay twenty-four hours,” he grins, having already found me awake, “You should’ve gone back to the hotel. You couldn’t have been comfortable.” His grin turns to a frown and I close my eyes and rub my head, which aches a bit from sleeping so briefly.

“I wouldn’t have left you, you know that.”

I stand from the terrible sofa and stretch my arms before walking over to Charlie’s bed and sitting on the side.

“You let me stay alone at the hospital in Clemson.”

“That’s different. We’re somewhere new and I would feel strange leaving you in a random hospital in a—“ I stop short, backtracking, “Did it bother you that I didn’t stay with you? I wasn’t sure that I could, really.”

“I wasn’t pouting,” he smiles and shakes his head. “I was only noting.”

“When can we go?” I ask, “Not that I want to rush anything. You need to stay this time, until they’ve made sure you’re alright. That was scary – you being sick.”

I look down at his arm just as he places his hand in my lap. I begin to run my fingertips over the tattoos that are exposed.

“I promise I’m not always such a liability. I’d never even needed to go to the hospital before this,” he chuckles lightly and watches my fingers, looking carefully and seriously, as he used to when he would watch me trace his tattoos. “You won’t be happy to know that they said I’ll be free to train again in a few weeks.”

My hand stops on his skin. Both of us look up and into each other’s eyes at the same time.

“You don't need to fight anymore, Charlie, you need to keep yourself safe now that you have better opportunities.”

“I meant it when I said I’d stay in Clemson until you were ready to move. I want to work for my uncle, but those opportunities are useless if you won’t come with me.” There is an edge of hurt in his voice, a strained agony.

"That’s not true,” I say defensively, wanting him to understand, “You're so young. Your life is just starting. Just because I don’t plan on coming here doesn’t mean I don’t support you in moving. It's okay for you to do this alone. "

"I'm tired of doing things alone. I want to do everything with you now. What's wrong with that?"

I can see tears begin to line Charlie's eyes, but he closes them quickly and rubs his hand over them, sniffing at the same time and brushing it all away. He looks towards the sofa against the wall just as Casey enters the room.

“I couldn’t sleep much, but I at least waited for the sun to rise before coming. How are you both?” She asks anxiously, looking between us.

I watch Charlie’s expression. His lips purse and he rubs his hand over his eyes again, so I speak for him. I tell her that they’re giving him medicine for the infection, but he’s feeling much better, and will be released today. Casey is either blissfully unaware of the tension, or is very good at appearing so.

“Well, I’m glad you’ll be released,” she smiles, but her smile is hesitant. “I um— I don’t want to add any stress onto either of your minds, but last night, I got so nervous waiting for news from Mark about what was going on. I convinced myself that something really bad was wrong, and I called your aunt and uncle on impulse,” Casey cringes at her own confession.

“I’ll call them now,” Charlie says calmly, “I don’t want them to worry. But it’s probably good that you called. They—”

“You won’t get through to them,” Casey says, “They immediately started making arrangements to be on a plane by this morning. I think your uncle Chris helped them to get a flight sorted out quickly.

“I know you’re always worried about burdening other people, Charlie,” Casey continues, “But they love you so much, and they wanted to be here in the first place. Don’t feel like you’ve made yourself an issue for them. You know they would do anything for you. Okay?” Casey nods, willing Charlie to do the same. I’m glad that someone else is trying to convince Charlie of his own worth for once.

Not that I would ever grow tired enough to stop doing so myself.

Casey stays with us until Charlie is officially released. On the way back to the hotel, she explains that Charlie’s aunt and uncle will likely call her when they’ve arrived in the city, and that she will give them directions to where we’re staying.

It isn’t difficult for me to cover the nerves that I have about meeting Charlie’s family under the all-encompassing exhaustion that I feel. Immediately, when we arrive back to our room, we both change into more comfortable clothes and fall asleep in the king sized bed that feels endlessly more comfortable than the awful sofa.

I’m not sure how long I’ve slept when Charlie wakes me, and I feel no more well rested than I have after any of the short sleeps that I’ve managed to get during this trip. But when he tells me that his aunt and uncle have landed, and will be here shortly, I find enough energy to jump out of bed and begin to collect pieces of a fresh outfit, all while ridding myself of my current clothes so that I can shower.

“I’m sure I look absolutely radiant,” I complain, piling clothes into my arms and carrying them into the bathroom. By the time I’ve started my shower water, Charlie is behind me, and he pulls me towards him, lifting me to sit on the counter by the sink.

“They already love you, and they haven’t even met you yet. Please, don’t feel like you need to impress anyone.”

“You shouldn’t be lifting me with your side being infe—”

“Stop,” he smiles, covering my mouth with his hand. “Tell me you’re not worried.”

I reach up and remove his hand.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you. I’m sorry this trip has been so crazy. I really didn’t think—”

I shake my head, frowning and biting my lip, not wanting him to apologize for anything more. He’s done nothing wrong. He leans his forehead against mine and reaches for my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I’m sorry I can’t come with you.”

Though my curls are still somewhat damp from the shower, I feel fairly prepared when there is a knock on our door that we expect to be Charlie’s family. We both stand from the bed that I’ve remade, and Charlie goes to answer.

I hear his aunt squeal before I see her arms wrap about Charlie’s neck, her body still hidden from my sight by him in the doorway.

Charlie greets them – quietly, of course – and welcomes them in. When he turns towards me again, his cheeks have reddened and he grins widely, and I can tell that he’s truly happy to have them here.

“Stella, this is my aunt, Victoria, and my uncle, Jack. This is Stella,” he introduces us all.

Charlie’s aunt is nearly my height, with wavy brown hair that falls just slightly past her shoulders. Her eyes are a warm brown color, and her smile is bright.

She steps forward, offering me her hand. “I feel like I already know you quite well,” she says, “It’s so nice to really meet you, though.”

“You as well,” I say, shaking her hand, “You must’ve been so worried. I’m glad you were able to book a flight.”

Jack reaches for my hand, too, shaking it as Victoria begins to explain the panic that she felt after Casey called.

Jack looks much like Chris, but is more discrete in his demeanor and style – even his features are somehow subtler than his brother’s.

“…Honestly though, Charlie, no more injuries. Seems as though twenty years of being indestructible was only a lucky streak,” she smiles teasingly at Charlie. “I’m just glad you’re alright. And you have all of your medicine?”

“I have to pick it up at the pharmacy,” Charlie tells her, running a hand through his hair.

“Jack, why don’t you go with him to do that now? Stella and I will go and pick up something for us all to eat, and then we can meet back here and plan something fun for tonight over lunch – unless you two already have plans, of course.”

Charlie and I shake our heads. I trust that anything his aunt has in mind for us won’t involve hospital trips, surprise-attack moving proposals, or any other sort of shock-inducing drama, so I’ll go along with whatever she suggests.

“You haven’t even gotten to celebrate winning your very last fight,” she adds, “I think we all need to make some sort of toast to that.”

Victoria leads the way to a nearby restaurant where she suggests we get carryout. She seems to know the city well.

I knew that Charlie’s aunt was younger than his mother, but Victoria is even younger than I’d imagined.

“Don’t you just love it here?” she asks, “Charlie was so excited to be the one to bring you here for the first time.”

“I’m glad, too,” I smile back. I assume she knows well that he wants me to move with him.

“He’s always been like that. He likes being able to show people something new – to teach them, I guess.”

“Well it must have something to do you with you and Jack being teachers, then.”

“Maybe,” she smiles, staring at the distance in front of us.

“What was he like when he was younger?” I ask, “He always tells me that he was trouble, but I have a hard time believing it.”

Victoria laughs, “You’re right in that. He’s always been determined that he’s more trouble than he really is. Of course, he was painfully quiet when he was a little boy – it took us a long time to get him to come out of his shell, once his mom passed away. He wasn’t so bashful with Jack or me, but at school, with other people – he had a difficult time. He’s obviously still quite reserved. You’re really the first person that he’s been so close with, besides the Isaacs, Chris, and us. He’s always been thoughtful, careful and sweet. He just sees himself very differently.”

“I’ve noticed,” I laugh sardonically.

“You’ve helped though. Surely you see it. He wouldn’t have had the confidence to pursue something with Chris’ business if it weren’t for you. Thank you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t have made that much of a difference. I’m sure this all would’ve happened eventually, with or without me.”

Victoria slows as we approach the restaurant door. She holds it open for me, motioning me ahead.

“I don’t think so,” she says, “He feels a certain responsibility towards you, and it’s forced him to realize what he’s capable of. He needed someone to need him.”

There’s a wait time on our order, and Victoria appeases my endless curiosity about Charlie, and what he was like before I knew him.

“I still miss my sister,” she says, “But I’m thankful every day that I got to raise Charlie.”

“What was she like?” I ask, almost sadly.

“When we were younger, she was everything. She was smart and gorgeous, and she did the things that she wanted without a second thought. She was so sure of herself, but it never made her cruel.” Victoria seems distant as she speaks of her sister, as if she’s having to travel the distance of time to recall her face.

“She was so different by the time she had Charlie. Waiting for his father to become what she believed him to be had taken its toll, and she was never the same. There were moments, of course, when I recognized her as the sister whom I felt I’d lost far before she was actually gone. Those moments were what kept me from taking Charlie when he was only a baby.”

She looks back at me, settling into the present again. Her brown eyes sparkle, and I’m not used to her enough to know if the glimmer is tears or a natural gleam. “She asked me to take him so many times. She said I would be a better mother to him. I thought that if she gave up on raising him, she would give up on herself completely. I still blame myself for him finding her body that day. It’s hard, watching someone you love become his or her worst enemy. But I shouldn’t have left him to save her.”

Victoria begins to make lighter conversation as we walk back to the hotel with our bags of takeout in hand. She mentions possible plans for the evening, while the face of a familiar man floods my mind, and refuses to be shaken from my thoughts.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

Victoria nods with a concerned frown.

“The other night – at Charlie’s fight – there was an older man who sat behind me and asked if I knew Charlie. He was dressed in old, dirty clothes and he had dark eyes. I think—”

I stop, wanting her to either confirm or deny my suspicion before I have to say the words.

She nods.

“He’s always checked in on Charlie when he could – only through us, of course. I made the mistake of telling him that Charlie was going to be working with Chris in the city. I was excited. He lives here, and he’s been asking if he can contact Charlie. Did he say anything to you?”

I shake my head, “He only asked if I knew Charlie. He did give me a post office box number. I thought it was strange, but then he said that he didn’t have a phone…”

“He doesn’t have a permanent address, either. I’m sorry,” she apologizes, though I’m not sure even she understands why. “You haven’t mentioned this to Charlie yet, have you?”

“No,” I say, “I was going to. But now that I know for certain who he is, I’ll let you decide what to do.”

“Thank you,” she nods, “I’ll tell him over the holidays. I’ve just been waiting for the right time.”

With Victoria and Jack at the head of our plans, we manage a quiet, peaceful evening – our last before we return home. The Isaacs come along, too. After dinner and a walk through Central Park, the city grows on me in the way that it might have if I hadn’t have felt it being forced upon me.

I in no way blame Charlie. I would likely never tell him how completely overwhelmed I was by the way that he brought me here and immediately asked me to move with, because I know how much it meant to him. But now that I know all of his intentions, and I’m able to feel like myself in my surroundings, and like I’m merely a sightseer passing through, I begin to imagine what life might be like here.

Still, I come to the same conclusion: Moving here would feel like I’m giving up something of myself for someone else. My plans are my own, and my plan was Clemson. If I were to come here with Charlie, I would be giving him a place in my life that carries much more weight than being my label-less love, or my best friend. As much as I trust him, I’ve worked to hard to be okay on my own – it still means something to me.

***

“Don’t you just love stepping off of a plane and realizing you’re still hours from home?” Casey laughs, adjusting the small duffel on her shoulder.

Waiting for us just outside of the airport would be my parents, Casey’s sister and brother-in-law, who had brought with them a happy and eager Cooper. Charlie’s car would be there, too, and his aunt had already accepted the pleasure of riding alongside Cooper in the backseat, all the way to Savannah.

We all say goodbye to one another as we exit into the December air – which doesn’t feel so cold after being in New York. Charlie carries my bag and his, and only tosses his keys to his uncle before spotting my parents parked nearby.

“I can carry my bag that far, you know,” referring to the short distance between my parents and us.

“I know,” he smirks glancing down at me as he walks extra slowly towards the car, “You’re still coming to see me after Christmas, right? I can make the drive to get you.”

“I’ll still come, yes. We can plan the details later. Maybe my parents will hand one of their cars over to me for a couple of weeks,” I grin up at him, not wanting to let the sadness creep in that I won’t be seeing him for a while.

“And you’ll think about it, wont you? You’ll think about moving with me?”

“Of course I will.”