Free

Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

Nick

The moment lingers, the taste of Charlie’s kiss still fresh on my lips, her breath mingling with mine. My God. I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I saw her, the day Garrett was showing me his boat all those years ago. And I’ve resisted for just as long. For her. For me. Because I knew it would feel like this.

Like being set on fire and washed clean at the same time. Like being cracked open, a space carved out for her that’s been waiting, empty and raw.

I knew Charlie Cooper would be a fire burning deep and bright in me, and neither of us was ready for what that would mean. I’m still not sure we are.

But it’s too late now. The fire’s been lit. And I don’t know how to put it out, even if I wanted to.

I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing her skin as I stare into her eyes—those warm, autumn eyes that see through everything. There’s something alive inside me, something I thought I’d lost. Thawing. That’s what it feels like. A river cracking through ice, slow but unstoppable, carrying me forward whether I’m ready or not.

But then the silence stretches, and reality crashes back in. I pull away, clearing my throat. The absence of her warmth is immediate, a sudden chill that seeps into my chest. As I take a step back, the ice reforms. The river slows. The thaw halts.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. Of all the ways I imagined kissing Charlie, it was never like this, something stolen and unsure, when neither of us is ready for what comes next. “It wasn’t fair to you.”

Her eyes search mine, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t exactly stop you.”

Her words land like an anchor, pulling me back into the moment. “No, but you should’ve,” I say, my voice soft. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Charlie. I don’t even know if I’m someone who can give you what you need.”

She studies me, her expression flickering between frustration, desperation, and something softer I don’t have a name for. “Why do you always do that?” she asks quietly, her voice steady but tinged with hurt. “Decide for me. Assume you know what I need like I’m not standing right here, perfectly capable of figuring that out for myself?”

I run a hand over the back of my neck, looking away for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I’m just trying to protect you. From me. From… all of this.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, almost resigned. “Maybe I don’t need protecting.”

The words land heavier than she probably intended, the weight of them settling into the hole in my chest. I want to argue, to explain, but I can’t find the words. All I know is that she’s right, and I don’t know what to do with that.

She shifts, glancing toward the door, hesitation written in every line of her body. “Should I…” Her voice wavers, barely audible. “Should I go?”

The smart answer is yes. Hell, the right answer is yes. The timing is wrong for us. It always has been. But the thought of her leaving, of losing her warmth again, drops a brick in my stomach.

I take a breath, then shake my head. “I really don’t want you to.”

Relief flickers across her face. “Good. Because I really don’t want to, either.”

Her words land like a lifeline, but they also come with a weight. You shouldn’t want this. Not now. Not with me. But instead of pushing her away again, I find myself saying, “How about a beer? We could sit outside on the porch. Leave the dangers of yoga behind. All that softening and allowing must have gone to my head.”

Her lips twitch into a small smile. “Works for me.”

We move toward the kitchen at the same time, a nervous shuffle as we step around each other. The kind of shit made for strangers, not for two people who’ve already shared so much. I grab a couple of beers from the fridge, the condensation forming on the bottles in the humid air. Sunshine follows us out to the porch, her nails clicking lightly on the floor.

The warm ocean breeze greets us, carrying the salt and sound of waves lapping the shore. The horizon glows, the sun hanging low over the water, its reflection rippling like liquid gold. It feels safer out here. Less complicated. Like the kiss is still inside, tangled in the heat of the house, and out here, we can just… breathe.

Charlie sinks into one of the worn chairs by the railing, and I take the seat next to her, leaning back. Sunshine curls up at our feet, her head on her paws, her presence as grounding as the steady rhythm of the waves.

I hand Charlie a beer, and she takes it with an easy “Thanks,” the quiet settling between us in a way that doesn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, it feels right. Her here. Us here.

It’s dangerous, how much I like this.

“Can I ask you something?” I break the silence, my voice rough against the peaceful backdrop. “It’s a little personal, so feel free to tell me to fuck off.”

“Hit me with it.”

I hesitate, taking a swig of my beer before meeting her gaze. “Why Davis?”

Charlie stiffens, recoiling slightly like I’ve touched a nerve. I want to take it back, to tell her to forget I said anything, but then she squares her shoulders, her eyes flashing with something between hurt and defiance.

“You really want to talk about why I ended up with Davis? Maybe you should think about why I wasn’t with you.”

Her words knock the wind out of me. “Are you implying it’s my fault you got involved with that jerk?”

“Wow, Nick.” She shakes her head, the sarcasm in her tone razor-sharp. “I might need another beer for this conversation.”

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Like I said, feel free to tell me to fuck off.”

She looks at me for a long moment, then takes a long swig of her beer, exhaling as she lowers the bottle to her lap. “Davis felt safe.”

Her voice is quiet now, and the vulnerability in it twists something deep inside me.

“There was the romance of it,” she continues. “My childhood crush, sweeping me off my feet. And Davis has charming down. After, um… after you, he was as predictable as a Hallmark movie. The crazy spark wasn’t there like it was with you, the one that threatened to burn me up. But he had money, a job that didn’t send him to war zones. He was safe. Quiet. And I think I needed that.”

She shrugs, her gaze drifting to the horizon, the breeze tugging at her hair. There’s no anger in her voice, no bitterness. Just raw honesty.

I reach over, placing my hand on hers. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice low.

She looks at me, her heart wide open.

“After my accident…” I begin, but the words stick in my throat. How do I explain what it was like? The pain, the fear, the overwhelming sense of nothingness that swallowed me whole? How do I tell her that I didn’t just wish I’d died with my friends, that I begged for it? Prayed for it?

“I wasn’t in a good place, Charlie,” I finally say, my voice breaking. “You were better off without me.”

Her brows furrow in frustration.

“You’ve spent your whole life helping people,” she says softly. “Your family. Your friends. Your country. I loved you, Nick. And in your weakest moment, I wanted to be there for you, but you wouldn’t let me. You didn’t even give me the chance to decide if it was too much. You just shut me out. Do you know what that felt like? Loving someone who wouldn’t even let me try?”

Her words cut deep.

“I didn’t know how to let you in,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I was drowning, in pain, grief, fear… I couldn’t see a version of us where I wasn’t dragging you under the water with me. I saw the wreckage I’d become and thought, ‘God, she deserves better than this.’ So I gave you a way out.”

The waves roll in, unchanging, relentless, just like the pull I feel toward her. I’ve spent so long trying to keep myself anchored, trying to keep the tide from pulling me under, but sitting here with Charlie, I’m not sure I want to fight it anymore.

She exhales, shaking her head as she looks out at the waves. “It’s always been complicated, hasn’t it?”

I want to give her more, to lay it all out there, but the words catch in my throat. What if letting her in means losing her all over again? So instead of saying anything, I nod my agreement and tip my beer to my lips.

Sunshine stirs at our feet, letting out a soft huff, and we sit there in the quiet, the ocean crashing in the background as the night wraps around us.