Chapter Four
CHARLES
“Are you coming for Sunday dinner this week?” Brent asks over coffee midweek.
I rub at what is now very much an overgrown beard on my face. “I don’t know. It didn’t go too well last time.”
“Tucker’s going through a lot.” Brent lifts his coffee to take a large sip, gaze narrowed on me. “Are you still firm on not doing anything football related? The local high school needs a coach.”
“Nah. I want to move past football. I’m done.”
“There’s this charity on the mainland that could use your help,” he says with an encouraging smile. “It’s for queer runaways. It’s like a Big Brother situation. What do you think?”
“That’s way more up my alley.”
“I’ll pass your information off to them, then.”
We finish up our coffees and part ways with a handshake.
Brent and Mark are great men, and I’m sure they raised an amazing son, but Tucker is world weary and obviously tired.
All I can do is be kind and hope maybe he’ll come around to liking me.
After all, there’s something about him and his sunrise wishes that intrigues me.
There’s a lovely man under all that armor, if only he’d drop it for a moment.
My next stop is Marcia’s storefront, and the little bell rings when I step through.
She looks a little more tired than normal but perks up at the sight of me. “Charles!”
“Hello.” I lean across the table to kiss her cheek. “How’re you doing today?”
“Better now. We’ve sold a few more tickets since you shared about the festival online!
We still need to sell more tickets though.
It gets harder each year, and I try so hard but…
” Marcia trails off with what sounds like disappointment in herself.
From my time here, it’s pretty clear Marcia holds the community together, and has for a very long time.
She smiles widely. The sight of it is fake even to my own eyes. “We’ll sell out like we always do.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“This is your first year at the lantern festival, right?”
“Yeah, I moved here last year. I missed the festival.”
“So exciting. I am so glad Tucker is back for it. He needs it.”
I make an agreeing noise to avoid talking about Tucker. “Do you want to show me how to do that hand crochet thing we were talking about?”
Marcia’s grin crinkles her eyes, and all the wrinkles bring her to life.
My face warms at the attention she lavishes on me as she shows me how to use my hands like crochet needles with thick oversized strands of yarn.
We’ve been working on blankets that she sells at the end of the year for charity.
Her blanket looks much better than mine, but I’m pleased with the aqua one I’ve been working on.
“Have you started guitar lessons yet?” Marcia asks as she slowly makes loops with her hands.
“This Friday.”
“Tucker is such a sweetheart. And guitar will give you another skill with your hands! Since you can’t toss that pigskin around anymore.”
“It was more than tossing,” I argue, but it’s half-hearted because she’s teasing me.
Marcia just grins wider. “I know. All those men on the television, such beautiful male specimens."
“True.”
“Did you ever date one of them?”
I barely contain my wince. “Nope.”
“Shame,” Marcia says wistfully. She pats my hand once she’s done for the day, her arthritis getting the best of her. “You’re such a catch.”
I hum, not really wanting to get into my lack of dating at the moment.
I’ve always felt like something is wrong with me, but I’ve never been able to put my finger on it.
While everyone else was worried about dating and finding romance, I was happily distracted by football.
I used my career as an excuse most of the time, but I don’t think that was it.
Sure, I’ve had the inconsequential one-night stand, but I always look for something in a hookup that the other person isn’t seeking.
I want connection and kindness, and although my body does the job, I feel a little empty and lacking afterward.
I leave Marcia with a kiss on her cheek and head back to my truck. My phone rings in my pocket. The name on the screen is that of my former agent, and I dodge him expertly. I don’t want to talk about football. I want to move on and disappear.
The next morning I’m back on the mainland with Cupcake in tow for her annual vet visit.
The island doesn’t have its own veterinarian, which makes sense, but is also kind of sad.
It isn’t that small, but it’s not a pain to make the drive over the bridge these days.
Cupcake is always weary of new vets, and this is our first visit to this one since moving here, so I’m sure it’ll go swimmingly.
Even the sarcasm in my head can’t hype me up for a visit that could go great, or could go exceptionally bad depending on the vet.
Either Cupcake will be fine, or she’ll end up cowering in the corner, terrified.
Cupcake whines a little as I carry her into the office, since she won’t walk of her own accord.
Like most dogs, she hates the vet, and she’s just big enough to dig her feet in and make it impossible for me to drag her in.
The sweet nurse at the station checks us in with a kind smile Cupcake’s way.
I’m sure it’s not a daily occurrence that they see a former NFL quarterback carry in his one-hundred-and-forty-pound Saint Bernard.
“Cupcake?” Sarah, the nurse, calls.
Cupcake whines and shakes from her place on the ground. “I know, girl, but the faster we get back there, the faster it’s over.”
She yips as if she understands me, hanging her head as she walks beside me into the back. Sarah laughs at the sight and shakes her head.
“This one has a lot of personality.”
“She has all the personality in our family.”
“Let me take her back for the blood work to get it over with.”
“She’ll be okay?”
Sarah smiles gently. “We’ll be right back.”
I stay in the room as Sarah leads Cupcake into the back, but I catch the mournful look Cupcake sends me over her shoulder.
I am so whipped by her. I can’t imagine what I’ll be like if I ever decide to have children.
Surely, a husband will have me just as whipped as well.
When I love someone, I want to love them with everything I have.
Which is surprising considering my less than stellar upbringing.
My parents were controlling—church every Sunday, and church most weeknights.
And when I’d realized I was gay, I spent most of my time worried they’d send me off to a conversion camp like some of my other friends.
No, what they did was worse.
They kicked me out without a look back.
“Here she is,” Sarah says, thankfully interrupting my thoughts. She leads Cupcake into the room, and Cupcake ignores the chair beside me, instead clamoring into my lap like she wants to climb inside me.
I chuckle and wrap her up in my arms, squeezing tight. I pet her fur as she buries her face in my chest.
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whisper against Cupcake’s ear. I brush her fur and murmur more nonsensical things to her until the door opens to reveal an exhausted-looking blond man about my age. His blue eyes are kind, and he has broad shoulders with a narrow waist.
“I’m Doctor Young.” He holds out his hand for a shake, and I take it in a firm grip. “I’m the new veterinarian, since my grandfather retired. And this must be Cupcake?”
Cupcake buries her head farther into my chest at the sound of her name.
“She’s not very happy right now,” I tell the doctor with a soft chuckle.
He smiles softly, eyes wrinkled at the corners. “I suppose not. This place is very scary. I wonder if Cupcake likes tummy pets though?”
Cupcake looks over, eyes squinted and wary. I take that as my cue to lift her onto the table. Her nails slip and slide against the metal, but Dr. Young’s firm hand moving over her spine calms her and she stills under his touch. Wow. He’s magic.
He’s quiet as he listens to her heart and palpitates some of her extremities, then her stomach. She seems enamored by him in a way she rarely is with people. I can see it though. He’s weary and kind, quiet and gentle.
“She’s in good health for her age. The joints are getting a little worse. I can feel the creaks when I move her legs. Have you been giving her any supplements?”
“Yep.” I nod and rub my hand over Cupcake’s stomach, earning me a happy huff from Cupcake. “I buy them online, and give her two every morning.”
“I’m going to increase them. And I want you to keep up the gentle beach walks with her. It’s good for her to not get locked up.”
I nod in agreement. “Got it.”
“You’re doing a good job. She’s a very happy and healthy girl.
” He says it all with a smile as he scribbles down what he just told me on a pad.
He flourishes the paper, and I grab it, then watch with a smile as he dips down to boop Cupcake on her nose.
“I don’t want to see you for another year, okay? Eat your arthritis cookies.”
She perks up at the word cookie, and Dr. Young reaches to the side to grab a Milk-Bone and offers it to her with a crook of his lips.
We shake before he leaves, then I pat Cupcake on the head.
We head back home to the island with the windows down on the balmy August evening.
The humidity of South Carolina has taken some getting used to after my youth in Nebraska, and then my time spent in California.