Chapter Eleven
TUCKER
At some point during the storm, we’d moved back to Charles’ bedroom in unspoken agreement.
Charles. I can’t stop thinking about his face last night when I called him Charlie.
He’d just looked so happy. Like maybe for the first time in his life someone actually saw Charlie, not the quarterback or millionaire mountain of a man.
No, I see Charlie. A kind man who saw someone needing help and reached out a tentative hand in hopes of giving a lifeline.
Speaking of Charlie… He’s sound asleep beside me, jaw covered in thick scruff, hair a messy heap atop his head.
There’s a bump on his nose which I guess speaks of a break a little while ago that didn’t set quite right.
I stare in fascination as the vein on his neck pulses gently, and without any sort of conscious decision, I lean forward to place a soft kiss there.
Charlie huffs slightly, waking in bits and pieces, and curls his fingers against my hip.
We’d changed into clean clothes before bed, both of us only dressed in boxers.
I press a line of kisses up his neck, across his cheeks, and over his nose, then lean my cheek against his just to breathe in the sleepy smell of him.
Charlie hums happily, the pads of his fingers sweeping over the small of my back.
A laugh escapes me when Charlie pushes enough for me to fall back, him following me to bury his face in my neck and cuddle on top of me.
He surprises me at every turn. This giant of a man is a cuddle monster.
I kind of love it. I didn’t realize quite how touch starved I’ve been, probably for years, but with each touch Charlie is bringing me back to life.
“I’m calling you Charlie in my head now,” I say, voice still sleep wrecked.
Charlie grunts and presses a still half-sleepy kiss to my collarbone. “S’okay. I like it. Like when you say my name.”
“Oh yeah?”
Charlie nods against my chest. “Like you.”
Oh boy. I run my fingers through his hair to carefully remove the knots.
I watch with a flutter in my chest as Charlie fully wakes up, his weight becoming just a tad less heavy as he refuses to lean his full weight on me.
When he turns his head to look up at me, it hits me that, yeah, Vegas rules can’t apply to this one.
I want Charlie at night, during the day, at dinner, with breakfast—I want him all the time, even if it’s insanity.
“The sunrise after a hurricane is my favorite,” I whisper into the room like a secret between schoolchildren.
Charlie closes his dark green eyes with a happy sigh. “Let’s go watch it, then.”
He rolls out of bed with a deep groan, stretching this way and that. The muscles in his back bunch delightfully and my mouth goes desert dry at the sight. He really is fucking beautiful. He shoots a questioning look at me over his shoulder as he tugs a shirt on, then a pair of sweatpants.
“Are you coming?” Charlie asks with a furrow of his bushy brows.
“Yeah, just… watching you.”
Charlie flushes and quickly looks away. I want to watch him all day, now that I have permission.
I want to keep this feeling in my chest, hopeful and yearning.
Charlie has proven in a span of weeks that he wants me in some way, and I’m not strong enough to fight his affection.
I think I’m safe with him. Looking back all those years ago when I first met Anthony, I never had this inescapable urge to constantly be around him, not because I was lonely or wanting company, but because he made me feel good.
Making Charlie happy brings me more joy than I’d ever imagined possible.
Seeing him smile sends my heart skyrocketing into space.
It’s truly magnificent and I hope it never goes away.
I sit up in the bed, getting a butterflies invading the earth sensation in the pit of my stomach when Charlie tugs one of his overlarge hoodies over my head. “I bet it’s cold out.”
I grab Charlie’s hand and hold it tight, squeezing before letting go and following him out of the bedroom.
I pull the hoodie up a little to take a deep breath of the inherent smell of Charlie.
That comforting lived-in smell that reminds me of home somehow.
Cupcake pads behind us, a little slower than usual.
I notice Charlie has a slight limp in his step as well.
It’s easy to forget about his knee when he rarely mentions it, but I recall him saying it gives him trouble during storms, which is exactly what we had last night.
“Knee okay?” I ask as we walk out the back door.
Charlie dismissively shrugs his broad shoulders. “It’s fine. Damage out here isn’t too bad.”
If that isn’t the most evasive answer I’ve ever heard.
I grab Charlie’s forearm, squeezing hard enough for him to pause in walking and turn around to look at me.
His mouth is bunched to the side in the way I’m starting to learn means don’t make this about me.
But everything can’t always be about me because that’s not fair and that’s not what I want.
Equal. That’s what this has to be, and even if it’s not at times, it’ll equal back out at some point so that neither of us is burdened by the other but instead carried through.
“How’s your knee?” I press again.
Charlie huffs slightly, dropping his shoulders from around his ears. “It aches a little, but that happens sometimes. You can massage it later if you want,” Charlie says, clearly teasing, but hell yeah, I’ll massage it if he’ll let me.
“Okay.”
Charlie’s eyebrows wing up in surprise. “Okay?”
I shrug my shoulders back. “Why not? Now, let’s see if we can make it down to the beach before the sun comes up.”
I drag my hand down Charlie’s arm until I can entwine our fingers, still kind of amazed at how perfectly they fit.
Charlie is quiet beside me as we navigate the messy path through the dunes.
The air smells a little saltier than usual, and there’s seaweed dotting the shore from the unexpected high tide.
Today would be a great day to go sea glass searching, maybe after the sunrise.
We forgot a towel to sit on, but we don’t need it, we can stand.
Despite the wild storm during the night, the sky only has a few smattering of clouds. Charlie drops my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders, and I wrap my arm around his waist, pulling him close.
“Remember to make your wish,” I say softly, just barely heard over the slap of the waves against the shore.
Charlie hums thoughtfully. “I promise. I’ll always make a wish at sunrise now.”
“Always?”
Charlie presses his hip into mine. “Always. Now quiet, here comes the sun.”
I hum the song beneath my breath, earning me a laugh from Charlie.
Cupcake pads down to the water, sticks her nose in, huffs in annoyance, then returns to sit beside us in the dry sand.
The sun breaks over the horizon in a burst of oranges and pinks, and my heart beats wildly at the sight.
Love, I lift up to the universe. When I turn to Charlie, he’s looking at me, not the sunrise, and in unspoken agreement we share a closed-mouth kiss as the color of the new day washes over us.
Once the sun is fully up, we spend a better half of the morning hunting for sea glass.
We find a few good pieces that Charlie happily collects and stores in his hoodie pocket.
We don’t talk much, which is nicer than I ever could’ve expected.
It’s nice to just be with someone without expectations to perform, without the feeling of anger from days ago pressing down on me.
I think if I did something to upset Charlie, he’d tell me right then and there, which is a blessing all on its own.
My phone lights up with Pop’s name just as we’re heading back to the house.
“Hey, Pop.”
Charlie raises one eyebrow and walks ahead of me to give me a semblance of privacy.
“You guys survived the storm all right?”
“Yep.”
“Good,” Pop says happily. “We’re going to stay in Charleston a few more days, make a vacation of it. Can you check on the house?”
“’Course. I’ll empty out the fridge if the quarter sank too low in the freezer cup.”
“Call us if you need anything.” Pop pauses for a long moment. “I never liked Anthony,” he whispers so Dad can’t hear him. “I adore Charles.”
“Oh?” I ask with a barely restrained grin.
“He’s salt of the earth.”
“What’s that mean?”
Pop just laughs easily. “He reminds me of myself. Now, I love you. We’ll be back in time for the lantern festival.”
After he disconnects the call, I tug the phone away from my ear with a frown.
Salt of the earth. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Pop use that phrase to describe someone in my entire life.
Charlie comes back to join me on the porch, a mug of coffee in each hand and creamer tucked into the crook of his elbow.
“It says gluten-free,” he says with a deep frown. “But it also has natural flavors. Can’t gluten sneak in that way?”
My heart fucking bursts. “Yeah,” I reply gruffly, trying to keep my face as neutral as possible so that Charlie can’t see the heart eyes that dearly want to escape. “But that brand is fine. It’s what I use at home.”
Charlie grins, wide and beautiful. “Oh, good. It’s pumpkin spice. That okay?”
“Perfect.”
Charlie sets the mugs down on the table, and pours some creamer into each mug, returning to the kitchen to put the creamer away, and comes back with a spoon.
He carefully stirs both of our coffees but keeps the spoon in his mug as he takes a rather large gulp.
I watch his throat move on the swallow, entranced and delighted at the same time.
“Brent was checking in?” Charlie asks before taking another big gulp of coffee.
I hum in agreement, taking my own sip of coffee. It warms my bones, but not the way Charlie’s body warmed me when he was caging me in against the bed. I like sleepy and open Charlie. I always like Charlie actually.