Chapter Eleven #3
River makes a considering face. “I think that’d be cute. I liked when you did light blue back in high school, but that was with the curls. You looked like you belonged in the sky.”
“That’s very sweet.”
“Suck me.”
“No, thank you,” I deadpan, making River giggle in obvious exhaustion.
He rests his head against his knee, worn-out looking, so I take pity on him. I dip down to my knees and squeeze his chin between my fingers. “What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t get much sleep last night. Well, not for the past few nights really. Now we’ve got to make sure the town is cleaned up in time for the festival this weekend. We still haven’t sold out. I don’t want to disappoint Ms. Marcia. She really trusts me to handle this.”
I can hear it without him saying the words.
He’s worried he’ll disappoint Ms. Marcia like he’s disappointed his parents.
He owns a coffee shop on Hope Island, not a chain of coffee shops throughout the Southeast. He’s not rich, not perfect like them.
It’s been River’s struggle his whole life.
Sure, his parents aren’t awful, but River has always said he feels like he was a box for them to check off, nothing more, nothing less.
In a way, we wear our wounds differently, but we’re exactly the same.
“The lantern festival is going to be great, I promise. We’ve got time still!
The hurricane is gone. The power will come back to the island.
It’ll be all right.” I kiss River’s cheek in a rare show of affection, hoping it’ll boost his spirits.
It has the right effect because River grins as if I just gave him the best pep talk of all time. “Now, let’s figure it out, yeah?”
“Yes! You’re right!” He stands up abruptly, almost knocking me over. He grabs my bicep and tugs me up in apology. “Sorry. How can we sell out?”
“I have an idea,” I whisper while looking toward Charlie.
The man must feel my stare because he looks up from his phone, excited at first, then a little concerned when he finds both of us staring at him.
“What?”
“Wanna record something with me?” I ask playfully.
Charlie fumbles his phone in his lap, a flush stealing across his cheeks.
“Oh wow,” River says in clear shock at the visible effect I have on Charlie.
“Yes. Maybe. Well, depends on what and where, I mean…” Charlie rambles, then remembers River is among us. He clears his throat and sits up straighter, eager to please as always. “What do you mean?”
“We need to sell out the lantern festival. I have an idea.”
“An idea,” Charlie squeaks just as Cupcake barks in apparent agreement with me.
River shoots me a grin, and I grin back, feeling lighter than I have in years.
Most of the island gets power back before evening.
I shoot off a single text in hopes of making the lantern festival sell out, but Charlie does even better: He contacts his entire former team in San Diego, asking if they’ll share about it online, and he even asks Courtney if he’ll consider visiting for said festival.
I almost plowed him over with a kiss when he agreed to my suggestion of asking a teammate or two to come.
His heart is so big and so pure, and the emotions I feel for him are frightening and all-encompassing.
“People keep DMing me about the festival,” Charlie says excitedly as he follows me into my parents’ house.
I’m going to pack a bag to take to his place and grab a good date-night outfit for this evening because we’re going on a date.
An official, real-life date. “I had to hand it off to my social media manager. It was too much. But there’s no way we won’t sell out now. ”
“I’m so excited.” I bounce on my feet a little as I hurriedly pack my bag under Charlie’s watchful eye. “I had Marcia’s grandson post about a surprise superstar guest, so hopefully your teammates pull through with helping with promotion.”
“They’ll pull through. They’re awesome.” Charlie leans against my bedroom doorframe, looking all sorts of edible and perfect.
No one has ever looked at me the way Charlie does, like I’m not just the center of his universe, but the reason he can take a deep breath when he wakes up each morning.
“Four days is a long time to prepare for the festival. Halloween right after. Does the lantern festival always fall around this time of year?”
“Yeah.” I grab my nicest cardigan from the closet, folding it neater than my clothes and storing it in the duffel. “We don’t have much of a fall festival on the island, since it’s beachy and cool. It’s always been the lantern festival, then straight on to Christmas crap.”
“Christmas crap.” Charlie guffaws. “You don’t like Christmas?”
I shrug and zip up my duffel, tossing it over my shoulder with a wolfish grin. “Christmas is all right. I’m more of a summer guy myself.”
“Sunscreen and sunrises?”
“Exactly,” I say with an exaggerated wink. “Let’s go back to your place. I made plans for our date night. Hey, River thought maybe I should do lime-green hair next. What do you think?”
Charlie places his hand on my head, giving the bit of hair there a good rub. He looks at me fondly, eyes soft, mouth tilted up in a kind, loving smile. “Whatever color you wanna do, sweetheart. I like it every single way.”
“And if I grow it back out, then dye it a million different colors?”
Charlie looks at me like I’ve lost my mind as we step back outside, the smell of the marsh slapping me in the face.
I take a deep breath and stare back at Charlie, daring him to be anything but supportive.
I should’ve known an unkind word from Charlie will never come.
He’s patient and kind, sweeter than honey.
“I think you’re perfect no matter your hair color.” Charlie reaches up to tug his own hair. “Maybe you could dye mine?”
I lean up on my toes to kiss him softly, just a sweet press of lips.
When I pull away, I stay close, our breath mingling between us.
His eyes say everything my heart wants to say back, despite it only having been a short time of whatever this is between us.
Whatever is such a stupid word. This isn’t a whatever thing.
This is something good that I won’t let myself throw away because I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve good things.
I deserve Charlie and I deserve home. I deserve to be happy every single day that I’m alive.
I’m going to hold on to him as if his patient devotion is my anchor in the hurricane, forever.
“Maybe give you a little undercut, dye the buzzed part.”
Charlie’s eyes twinkle. “Whatever you want.”
I gently shove his chest with a laugh.
Just as we’re about to head back to the truck, I notice the delivery truck barreling down the road. Surprisingly, it turns into the driveway. The world might slow down for a hurricane, but capitalism never stops. The delivery driver hops out of the vehicle with a tired smile.
“Tucker James?”
“Yeah?” I call out, cupping my hands over my eyes at the glint of the sun.
“Delivery for you,” the driver says before disappearing into the back of the truck. He reappears a moment later with four large boxes, two very obviously my remaining guitars. He comes over and drops them at our feet, brandishing the tablet for me to sign. “Signature required.”
I sign the tablet and give him a thankful smile. We watch him drive away before glancing down at the boxes. I swear in annoyance when I notice the return address is Anthony’s. Those four containers are the remainder of all my shit from somewhere I attempted to make a life.
“Tucker?” Charlie asks hesitantly. His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and I sway into him a little bit, just for a moment.
“I guess that’s the rest of my belongings.”
“How much did you bring with you?”
I turn my head and press a kiss to Charlie’s bicep. “My guitar and a duffel bag of clothes.”
“Didn’t you live together for years?”
I hum absentmindedly. I don’t want what’s inside the boxes.
I feel like leaving Anthony behind was a key part of starting over.
Things have never been important to me—maybe that’s the curse of being unwanted at a young age.
I lift my head to look up at Charlie, finding only kindness and warmth in his gaze.
He’s steady and loving, and I bask in the glow of his obvious adoration.
“Help me put these into the garage?”
“Sure.”
We each grab a box and load them onto one of the back racks in my pop’s garage. It smells like engine grease and home, the scent that’ll always remind me of summer days helping Pop fix up a new beat-up car. I stare at the boxes for a moment and shake my head.
I grab Charlie’s hand and tug him back outside, closing the garage door behind us with the code at the pad. We stare at each other under the warm autumn sun, his thumb sweeping across my knuckles. I want to say so much, yet nothing at the same time.
“What if I dye my hair silver?” I ask softly, remembering all the times Anthony controlled every single one of my actions, how he made me feel less than just for being me.
How when I did something he didn’t like, he’d punish me by moving shit around in the bathroom.
Other times he’d whine about having sex until I gave in because he liked the power of me not wanting to, but feeling like I had to do it to keep him happy.
Charlie tugs me toward the truck and swings our hands together. He’s quiet for so long that I wonder if he didn’t hear me. But I can tell by the considering look on his face that he’s just thinking his words over carefully.
We climb into his truck, Cupcake patiently sitting in the back with the windows down. “I like you. No hair, long hair, blue hair, black hair, I don’t care. It’s your body. Every iteration of you will be attractive to me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say softly, feeling the odd urge to cry.