Free

Chapter 33

THIRTY-THREE

Charlie

Garrett is on the porch when I pull into the driveway, arms crossed, leaning against the weathered porch rail. The late afternoon sun filters through the trees, streaking the space around him with soft golds and deep shadows. For a second, the way the light hits his face reminds me of Dad. Steely blue eyes, hard jawline, and a quiet intensity that spoke volumes without saying much at all. Back then, Dad’s looks carried the weight of curfews missed and rules bent. Garrett’s expression now is less about authority and more about something else—concern, maybe. A mix of protector and skeptic. It’s familiar enough to throw me off, like wearing a coat that doesn’t quite fit anymore.

The air smells faintly of salt and the tropical tang of blooming hibiscus. From the stroller beside him, Elise squeals, clapping her chubby hands in delight, lost in a rhythm only she can hear. Her pure joy softens Garrett’s presence.

I step out of the car and shut the door, the sound punctuating the stillness. “What’s with the brooding intensity?” I tease, crossing the gravel driveway toward the porch. “It’s a little heavy for a Sunday.”

“Brooding intensity?” He raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking at the edges. “Big words for someone who used to communicate exclusively in eye rolls.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…” I climb the steps, the wood groaning beneath my weight. Garrett doesn’t move, his arms still crossed, but there’s a faint twitch in his mouth that betrays him. I mirror his stance dramatically. “You can say what you came here to say, big brother. You’re dying to tell me how stupid I’m being, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head, leaning back against the railing. “Actually, Angela and I were about to take Elise for a walk. She’s grabbing a water bottle.” His gaze flicks to the horizon. “I just stepped out to catch the sunset.”

Sure enough, the sky behind me glows with streaks of fiery orange and pale lavender, like someone spilled watercolor across the canvas of the Keys. “But way to make everything about you,” he adds with mock seriousness.

I crouch to Elise’s level, taking her tiny feet in my hands and wiggling them until she giggles. “Your daddy’s a dorkus,” I say, sticking out my tongue for good measure. Elise giggles harder, her laughter as sweet as the wind chimes I reclaimed from Davis’s house.

“Pretty sure the dorkus title goes to someone else here,” Garrett mutters, but the edge in his voice has dulled. He shifts to lean over Elise, brushing her hair back with a tenderness that shows no matter what he’s thinking about me, he’s still Garrett, the steady force who would do anything to keep the people he loves safe.

The creak of the front door swinging open draws our attention, and Angela steps out, her hair catching the last rays of sun like fire. She has that easy, mischievous smile on her face, the one that says she’s been waiting for something good to drop into her lap.

“Did you have a nice night?” she asks, her tone all knowing.

I lean against the porch railing, my grin widening. “Oh, I had a nice night. And a nice morning. And, come to think of it, a pretty nice afternoon.”

Angela claps her hands together, her laughter spilling into the air like champagne bubbles. Garrett groans, throwing up his hands. “Too much information,” he mutters, but his attempt to look irritated is weak at best.

Angela shakes her head at him before glancing back at me, her eyes twinkling. “You’re glowing, by the way. I like this version of you.”

I shrug, trying to hide the way her words land a little too close to my heart. “I like this version of me too.”

Angela and Garrett exchange a look as they head down the driveway, the stroller crunching softly over the gravel. The sight of them—Garrett’s hand resting protectively on Angela’s lower back as they walk, her soft laugh rising into the evening air—fills me with warmth. I watch them disappear down the street, the moment sticking with me as I head inside.

The house is quiet, the late-day light slanting through the windows, painting the walls in amber. When I reach my room, I collapse onto my bed, sinking into its softness as the day plays on a loop in my mind. The memory of Nick—his touch, his voice, his smile—lingers like the scent of salt on the breeze. For once, my thoughts don’t spiral or dart away from the moment. Instead, they settle, basking in the contentment that feels new and yet deeply familiar.

This feeling, it’s the kind of joy I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. It’s not the shallow, fleeting rush I once mistook for love with Davis. It’s not the hollow echo of pretending to be okay. It’s real. It’s like standing barefoot in warm sand after a storm, feeling the sun return to your skin. It’s steady and certain.

A soft buzz pulls me from my thoughts. I reach for my phone, smiling when I see Mom’s name.

Mom

Just checking in, honey. It’s been a couple of days since we talked. You’ve been on my mind

I type back quickly.

Remember how you said sometimes our greatest challenges turn into our biggest blessings?

Her reply comes fast, laced with her usual humor and wisdom.

Oh, you mean the great truth about life everyone should learn so we can all approach things with more gratitude and less fear? No, tell me more

I laugh, shaking my head at her knack for calling me out.

Ha, very funny.

You were right. I was wrong.

Want me to put that on repeat for you?

I don’t need to be right, Charlie. I just need you to be okay. That’s the point of all the advice I give. It’s about helping you avoid the traps I fell into myself

I reread her words, her sincerity wrapping around me like a warm hug.

Well, I’m more than okay today

Would this sudden shift have anything to do with a certain Marine?

She knows me too well. I sigh, but the smile doesn’t leave my face.

Your ability to read me is spooky

Call it intuition, spirit guides, or just knowing my daughter. I’m happy for you, honey. You deserve good things

Nick is definitely one of the Good Things

Okay, here comes some mom advice you didn’t ask for, but I can’t help myself. You’re still raw from Davis, and Nick’s been through hell with his accident. Jumping into something new might seem like it’s fixing everything, but it might just be a temporary feeling

I drop my jaw as I read the text. Talk about conflicting messages! The bubbles are still bouncing, indicating she has more to say, but I can’t help myself. I reply before the rest of her message comes in.

Weren’t you the one who suggested I should stay with Garrett specifically to spend time with Nick???

I didn’t expect you to be waving the caution flag here.

It’s not a caution flag, honey. Just a gentle pause. Enjoy this time with him, but don’t move too fast. Give yourself a chance to really know what you’re feeling, to listen to any nudges of your intuition, and notice any red flags or true stop signs before you jump into this thing with both feet. Let this be real, not a Band-Aid that covers up the pain you’ve both experienced

I stare at the text. I get what she’s saying, and I know she’s right on some level, especially given how many red flags I missed—or did I see them and ignore them?—with Davis. But I also know that what’s happening between Nick and me is more than just a distraction. It’s real. It’s always been real.

I hear you, Mom. I do. But I promise, this isn’t a Band-Aid. We’re taking it slow. We’re figuring it out, together.

As I hit send, the word lingers in my mind, warm and solid.

Together.

I like the way that sounds.