“You f**king liar! You did this—all of this!” Cody’s completely gone as he lands punch after punch into Trevor’s head and chest. Trevor’s covering for protection, but clearly overpowered. I can’t watch this happen, so I reach for Cody’s arm, trying to hold it still, trying to stop it, or slow it down.
“Cody! Cody! What are you doing?!” I plead with him. I finally get a grip on his wrist, but he tosses me from him, throwing me to the gravel.
“You! You knew about this!” he shouts as he points at me again.
“Cody! I have no idea what this is!” I’m desperate, and I’m blubbering, I’m crying so hard. I feel like a switch was flipped—and everything that was so close to perfect was stolen from me, like a cruel joke. I’m praying I’m wrong, but deep down, I know I’m not. I can see it all unraveling, and I don’t know how to stop it.
Cody kicks Trevor one more time before he stands up, wiping his face along his arm, and rolling his shoulders straight. “That was Gabe, Charlie. It’s done—everything,” he says, his eyes shifting from me to Trevor. “Fucking cops showed up and started hauling all my shit away, clearing out the shop—every car, Trevor! Seems someone told them I was running a chop shop. Goddammit, Trevor…that’s my father’s name up on that sign, his goddamned memory. Do you really think I’m a criminal?”
I look to Trevor, hoping I see confusion on his face, hoping that he isn’t part of this, and I can tell he’s not. But I also know that Cody won’t believe him. At least, not right now.
“Jim showed up with them, said he has sole ownership now, and demanded they lock up everything, board up the windows, and take it all!” Cody says, kicking up scoops of gravel into the air.
He turns back to me, his nostrils flaring. “They took everything, Charlie!” Cody says, his voice cracking, and his eyes glassy. “My dad’s old car! The tools and photos and most of the books! And Jim said I should ask you about it. Said you knew this was going to happen. How? Why…why didn’t you tell me?”
I’m going to throw up. I feel it coming, and the corners of my eyes are bright, like the world is closing in. I keep moving my mouth, trying to explain it all away, but I can’t. Nothing on me is working—I’m stunned silent.
Jim warned me—he said he would destroy Cody, destroy his dream, if I did anything that hurt Trevor. I turn to Trevor, lying helpless on the ground, and can’t make sense of any of it. I know he didn’t cause any of this—he couldn’t, could he? Cody’s walking away from us to his truck, and he pulls the seat forward to reach for my coat and bag, tossing it on the muddy ground in front of him.
“Here’s your stuff,” he says, climbing into his truck and slamming his door closed. I manage to get to my feet, and I run to his truck, my palms flat along his passenger window as his engine roars to life.
“Cody! Where are you going? Wait! Wait, let me explain!” I beg. Cody rolls his window down, and I try to reach inside, to touch him, but he pushes me away—like poison.
“I have to get back and help Gabe, Charlie. I have to figure this shit out, this goddamned mess,” he says, looking down at his lap. He takes several deep breaths, his body shaking while he tries to force himself back to calm. When he looks back at me, he reaches for my face and runs his fingers down my cheek, but his hand falls back inside the truck, and his face is full of disappointment.
“Please! Take me with you, let me help you!” I say, my hands gripping the handle of his door, pulling on it even though it’s locked.
Cody shakes his head and keeps his eyes down while he chuckles insincerely before he finally raises his eyes to meet mine, and they look heartbroken. “You knew! Jim said I should ask you! I trusted you, Charlie. I trusted you…with everything. And now…I can’t,” Cody says as he rolls his window up quickly and drives away.
My body goes limp; I crumble to the ground, gripping the small stones in my hands and throwing piles of them at a time into the air at the trail left behind by Cody’s truck. I hear Trevor stirring, and I rush to my feet, running to him. I slide on my knees against him and start smacking his chest with my palms, over and over again.
“How could you do this?! How?” I yell, not letting him sit up or uncover his face from my barrage of slapping. “Did you do this to get even? Because I fell in love with him?”
I can barely breathe, I’m crying so hard, and my hits are coming in slower and slower, until finally Trevor is able to grab both of my wrists. He holds them tightly in his hand. “Stop it, Charlotte! Jesus, just stop for a f**king minute!” he yells, his voice harsh and cruel. The Trevor who loved me is gone.