Treading through the second floor hallway, I turn to a stop outside Charlie's open bedroom door hearing voices in hushed whispers.
The pesky part of me sneaks a peak through the small open gap.
Ayla was sitting on the edge of the bed her right leg folded under her ass while her mother was lying under the covers. The dimmed room distorts their faces so I can't quite tell their expressions.
But they spoke loud enough for me to hear.
"Don't marry him, Mom. He's not a good guy like you thought he was," Ayla pleads.
Immediately, I go on protective mode. What does she know about Charlie? All she does was give him trouble without a second thought.
He may not have been like it in the early days but he was turning his life around. Savannah even mentioned a few days ago that they were trying f
