Free

Chapter 8

EIGHT

Nick

The panic attack that started at the church presses against my edges. Darkness encroaches on my peripheral vision. Walls closing in. Sweat gathers at my temples. Hands shake.

I hold Charlie and count my breaths the way my therapist recommends. Anchor myself in my present by focusing on what I see, smell, and hear. The scent of her hair, so fresh, so familiar, lavender and lemon and promises made on a pier. The beads on her wedding dress dig into my palm. The woosh of cars zooming past. Her shoulders hitching as she cries softly into my shoulder.

Charlie’s breath slows and my panic dissipates, almost as if her calming down calms me down, which makes her even calmer. A circle of ease feeding ease. The charged atmosphere of the car relaxes into something familiar. Something I miss terribly. Something in another life, a better life, I could have grabbed hold of and never let go.

I almost tell her how much I’ve missed her, but the timing would be epically shitty.

She’s sitting in my truck in her wedding dress for God’s sake. She’s moved on.

So should I.

Focus on here.

On now.

Not the past.

Not the what ifs.

What would get her mind off what just happened so she can focus on what happens next?

“I know exactly what you need,” I say as Charlie pulls away, swiping at her tears, unable to look at me.

“Yeah?” Her voice is soft and vulnerable, and I resist the urge to press a kiss into her hair, scooting back into the driver’s seat with a smile.

“Without a doubt.”

I buckle in and wait for her to do the same before putting the truck in gear and pulling back into traffic.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?”

“Trust me on this one.” I risk a glance her way before giving my full attention to the road. Her dark hair is pulled back, her wild curls tamed into an elegant twist. Her red lips press into a frown, wrinkles crease her forehead, and mascara runs down her cheeks.

I’ve never seen someone look so beautiful and so sad at the same time.

My knee starts to bounce and I direct my focus to my next breath.

“Trusting people hasn’t exactly been working out for me,” Charlie says with a heavy sigh.

“It’ll be worth it this time,” I say, ignoring the barb in favor of keeping the peace.

“Ahh yes. Yet another man in my life who knows what I need more than I do.” Her words are edged with sarcasm, but there’s bitterness beneath them that cuts straight through me.

She’s joking, I think.

But I can’t turn that into a joke.

Not after the way that creep tried to gaslight her.

“Nope. Try again.” I lift a hand to brush hair out of my face. It trembles and I clench a fist before grabbing the steering wheel.

The light bleeds from Charlie’s eyes. “It was a joke, Nick. Remember when we used to do that? I’d hit you with my sarcastic wit and you’d hit right back. Some might call it friendly banter. It can be good for the soul.”

Of course I remember. Those were some of the happiest days of my life.

“Where we’re going is a surprise,” I murmur. “They’re good for the soul, too.”

“That probably depends on the surprise,” Charlie says, gathering a handful of lace and tulle into her hands, then letting it drop with a sigh.

I pull into the gravel parking lot of the Cluckin’ Good Chicken Truck and yank the gear shift into park. Charlie eyes the place skeptically.

“It’s an Airstream?”

“It was an Airstream. Now it’s a food truck trying to become a full-blown restaurant. The picnic tables, awning, and hole in the side should have been your first clue. Hell, the name alone would have done it if you were paying attention.”

Charlie reads the name under her breath then huffs a laugh, turning to me incredulously. “You brought me to a food truck. I’m wearing a wedding dress and you’re in a suit. You completely shut me out of your life after telling me you fell in love with me the moment we met, I just left my cheating fiancé at the altar, and you think the answer is a food truck on the beach.”

“While you do make a strong point, I’ll counter with ‘good food with the right company can solve a multitude of problems.’” I undo my seatbelt and crack open the door. “And this isn’t just any food truck, mind you. It’s a goddamn religious experience.”

I’m too keyed up for food and I’m sure Charlie feels the same. But eating—or even chewing gum—can trick your nervous system into thinking you’re safe. You can’t be chased by a tiger and stop for a bite. It’s primal knowledge, hardcoded into our body. A cheat code, if you will. And if I accomplish one thing today, it will be making sure Charlie feels safe after upending her entire life.

I hop out of the truck, then come around to the passenger side to find her struggling in a sea of white fabric. “Hold on a sec,” she says, untying the big ass bows around her arms, then wrapping them around her waist. “I can’t move in this thing.”

“Here.” I reach in and grab her under the arms, carefully lifting her out of the truck and placing her on the ground. Pain shoots down one leg and up my spine, and I grit my teeth to keep from showing it. I used to bench twice her weight without thinking twice. There isn’t a single thing left of the man I used to be.

“Thank you.” Charlie stares up at me, then averts her eyes to smooth her skirts. The walls between us are coming back up again. Brick after brick settling into their rightful place.

That’s fine.

It’s fucking fine.

It’s better for her that way.

We make our way to the food truck and Fred DiMarco, the owner, operator and all-around good guy slaps a hand to the counter. “Well I’ll be damned. Nick Hutton. You clean up all right, dontcha? How’d you land someone like this lovely lady? You know what? Never you mind. I’m just honored you decided to celebrate your special day with me.”

Charlie and I exchange a look. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows lift before she turns back to Fred.

“Oh no. Nick and I… we aren’t…” She gestures between us. “I mean, I know what it looks like but…” She looks to me for help.

I hold up my hands. “Yeah, no. We, uh, Charlie’s awesome, I mean, she’s really great, but we…”

… would be together if I didn’t know she’s better off without me…

“We’re going to a costume party,” she supplies, sounding too relieved to have found an answer for the lie to be convincing.

Fred roars in laughter. “Hell, you two. Don’t hurt yourselves tryna make your point. You look good together is all and whatever the prize is for that costume party, you’ve got it in the bag. Now. What can I getcha?”

Charlie looks around for the menu and Fred erupts into laughter again.

“Now see, that wasn’t fair of me to ask ya, seein’ as it’s a trick question. We only serve one thing and it’s the best darn chicken sandwich and fries you’ll ever meet. I’ll fix you up two helpings right quick.”

“A chicken sandwich and fries is a religious experience for you?” Charlie whispers as Fred busies himself with the griddle. “You might need to check in on your relationship with God.”

I flare my hands in a wait-and-see gesture. “It will be for you too, in just about five minutes. You’ll see.”

We stand together, awkward and silent while Fred cooks, whistling to himself. When he finally slides two red plastic baskets onto the counter, my mouth starts to water as the smell wafts our way.

Charlie lifts an appraising eyebrow. “That smells delicious.”

“I source my chicken locally. Organic, free range, all that. Grow and dry the herbs myself. Now the exact blend is proprietary, but you better believe I’ve spent years perfectin’ it. The buns, they’re made fresh daily and the taters for the fries are grown in my garden. It’s a labor of love, and I swear, you can taste the difference. Bon appetite , friends.”

I pay Fred, then grab the baskets and lead us to a picnic table sitting beneath a palm tree, with the ocean lapping against the shore several yards away. Charlie takes a tiny bite of her sandwich and chews thoughtfully, widening her eyes in appreciation.

“Considering I kind of feel like I want to throw up, and that still tastes amazing, you might be onto something with that religious experience deal.”

I lift my brows in a face that says, “I told you so” and take a hearty bite. “It helps that Fred’s a great guy. He’s right. You can taste his kindness in his food. I started coming here after—” I clear my throat “—after I got home last year and, I don’t know, sometimes this chicken sandwich is the best part of my week.”

Charlie chews. Then swallows. Then suddenly, a stricken look crosses her face and she puts the sandwich down.

“I really should tell my parents where I am. They’ve got to be worried sick. My brothers probably have Davis in a chokehold and I bet Angela is a mess. I left my phone at the church. Nobody knows where I am.”

I laugh gently. “I’m not so sure that’s true.”

“I don’t even know where I am, Nick. How can anyone else?”

“My phone’s been going crazy since about five minutes after we left. It seems people are aware you’re with me.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

I put my sandwich down and swipe a napkin over my mouth. “Because you needed to be in a better place before you dealt with that mess. They can be mad at me for not telling you about the calls instead of mad at you for taking the time you needed to process what happened.”

Charlie frowns, her pretty face drawing tight, her eyes bouncing across my face. The wind blows in off the ocean, fluttering the wax paper lining our red plastic baskets.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Because I’d do anything for you. Because you deserve to be taken care of. Because I’ll never stop wanting you, never stop wishing that things were different and I deserved you. Because I loved you enough to let you go, but that doesn’t mean I can watch your heart break and not step in.

“Because you’re you.”

Charlie looks unimpressed. “What kind of bullshit answer is that?”

“It’s not bullshit,” I say, recoiling. “It’s the truth.”

Her wide eyes meet mine, swimming in hurt. “Me being me wasn’t good enough for you after your accident.”

It was me who wasn’t good enough for you, I think but don’t say, instantly thrown back to those early days in the hospital. Body broken. Mind destroyed. Ignoring Charlie—her texts, her calls, her attempts to visit…

But the awful things I said to her? Denying I ever loved her in the first place?

That hurt most of all, but it was the right choice.

I did it for her.

“It wasn’t about you being good enough,” I murmur and she scoffs, turning away to stare balefully at the water. The divide between us is so big, I might as well be halfway around the world again.

“I’m sorry you went through what you went through,” Charlie finally whispers. “But you don’t have to stay broken forever.”

“I’m not sure I get much of a choice in that matter.”

“But you do. We all do. Every day, we make choices upon choices upon choices that have created our circumstances?—”

“I didn’t choose to drive over a landmine.” The words grind past gritted teeth, while I try not to let them reignite the sound of the explosion, charred metal, sharp and ragged, black smoke billowing, men screaming, me screaming… “And I didn’t choose to be taken behind enemy lines. I didn’t choose to be the only survivor. And I didn’t choose to have my future ripped out of my hands.”

“But you do have the luxury of choosing how you move forward. Like you said in the truck, I could have stayed at that church and married Davis, then tried to work out our problems through counseling. And maybe I should have?—”

“With all the love and respect in the world,” I say, the words grinding up my throat, “discovering your fiancé is a cheating asshole is on a slightly different level than what I went through.”

“Fair.” Charlie pauses. Detaches. Picks up a fry, then plonks it back into the basket with its brethren before staring at the waves crashing on the beach like they hold the answer to all our questions.

“Anyway,” I say, shifting to free my phone from my pocket. I place it on the table and slide it her way. “You ready to pull the pin on this little moment of Zen and tell your people you’re okay?”

“Pull the pin?”

I mimic biting the pin out of a grenade and tossing it over her shoulder, then mime an explosion with my hands. “It’s gonna be a lot, I think. Once everyone gets involved.”