“Somebody wants to kill me,” I blurt back at him, and he cringes. Cringes. My dad, Archibald Charlie Carson. It's enough to make me take a step back. “Yes, Charlotte, somebody does.” A long pause follows with us staring at one another, my eye twitching in the same way his does. Nature or nurture, I got it from him. “Wait, I'm sorry, what did you just say?” I ask, tugging on the little diamond stud in my ear, a fifteenth birthday present from Monica. “Pretty sure I just heard you agree with me.”
