Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
February 2029
THE PAST TWO AND a half months have gone about as well as you’d expect after the incident on Christmas, and it was like hitting the factory reset button with Charlie. When I walked into the house after our kiss, I went straight upstairs to change out of my wet clothes before joining the Blackwoods in the living room. Charlie wasted no time practically throwing her gift at me. The thin rectangle was wrapped in green stripes with a large red bow. Untying the ribbon, I slid my finger underneath the single piece of tape that held the paper together and unwrapped it to reveal a black box. Inside the box was a black leather wallet.
“Thank you, Char,” I said, but she refused to look at me, gaze locked on the tree in the corner. I looked at Joseph, who shrugged. He wasn’t going to ask questions. He was used to her mood swings and figured it was best to let it go. And because I didn’t feel like explaining to the man who had taken a risk by welcoming me into his home why his daughter was upset, I let it go, too.
Charlie has kept her distance since that night, until today.
She skips down the stairs, making a spectacle of her entrance to breakfast and reminding her father loudly that she has a date tonight. From my place at the coffee maker, I shake my head and take a long sip after filling my mug. This is the most she has spoken around me and it’s pretty obvious what she is trying to do. Apparently, I’m not the only one to think so.
“That was weird, right?” Joseph asks when Charlie traipses upstairs to continue her prep for her special evening—eight hours early.
“That was weird,” I agree, sitting at the table to finish my breakfast.
“You have any plans tonight?” He turns the page of his newspaper without looking up, and I laugh. That was a silly question. Of course, I didn’t have plans. “Nice guy like you should have plans.”
“It’s Valentine’s Day. You take a girl out tonight and she’s gonna think you’re ready for marriage.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Joseph mumbles, finally looking up from the paper. He folds it in half and leaves it on the table. “Well, should I plan a special dinner for the two of us then?”
I shrug. “Sounds good to me.” Finishing the last of my eggs and coffee, I wash my dishes and leave them to dry on the rack. “I’m heading into town. You need anything?”
“Nope, you have a great day, sweetie ! And make sure to tell Danny I said hey.” Joseph waves as I walk out of the kitchen. I wave my cheeks, playing along with his antics, only to turn and practically run into Charlie. Her gaze and lips pull into a thin line, glaring between us.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did we disturb your mental preparation for your special night?” I ask, placing a hand over my heart in fake sentiment. The question earns a chuckle from Joseph behind me, but a searing glance from Charlie, who pushes by me to enter the kitchen. She walks straight to the coffee maker, pours a cup, and leaves. I vaguely hear something like “assholes” under her breath when she passes by, but don’t call her out.
It’s well past eleven o’clock when I walk back inside, sweat dripping down my temples from a workout in the barn. The indoor riding arena has become my personal indoor track, giving me a place to run and work through my thoughts when it’s too cold (or dark) to do it outside. Before I find the first step, the phone rings in the kitchen.
What the hell?
The scene is perfect for a scary movie—a quiet, dimly lit farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, everyone in bed except the lone main character who has just returned from the barn, and the phone rings in the dark kitchen. When I answer, will there be a killer on the other end?
“Hello?” I answer, half expecting a strange voice on the other end. Instead, it’s the sound of a crowded bar.
“Is this the Blackwood residence?”
“Depends. Who’s asking?”
“I’m sorry to call, but we have Charlie here and there’s no way she can drive.”
Worry floods my veins. “Is she okay?”
“Oh yeah, she’s fine, just had a few too many.”
That worry turns into irritation. Are you kidding me? I thought she was on a date. Why isn’t that asshole bringing her home?
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Layne’s.”
“I’ll be there in twenty,” I say, slamming the phone back on the receiver. Layne’s is a local dive bar off Main Street. From what I understand, it’s the place to be. That’s not saying much when it’s one of only two bars in town and happens to be the one that attracts the younger crowd.
It takes me twenty-two minutes to pull into the bar’s parking lot and I immediately spot Charlie posted up against the wall by the door without a coat on. What the fuck is she doing? It’s two degrees outside!
I jump out and walk over to where Charlie stands, her eyes glassy as she stares off in the distance. She practically jumps out of her skin when I touch her shoulder. Her skin feels like a solid block of ice under my fingertips, the mesh long-sleeve turtleneck doing nothing to fight off the cold. Her hazy stare meets mine before she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “What the fuck do you want?”
“We’re going home, Charlie. Let’s go.” I try to place my jacket over her exposed shoulders, but she shrugs out of my touch. “Charlie, please don’t fight me on this. I don’t feel like explaining to your dad that you froze to death outside a bar.”
“And why should I? You don’t care!” She takes a large step away from me, tripping over her feet when she stumbles off the sidewalk but catching herself on one of the cars nearby. “See, I don’t need your help.”
“Charlie, for the love of God, please don’t do this right now. Let me take you home.”
“No! I don’t want you anywhere near me. You asshole. You…You…You…” I wait for her to finish the thought, but she can’t find the words. Instead, she groans and stomps toward my waiting truck, stumbling every few steps. Before I can turn to follow, the door to the bar opens and a guy dressed in all black peeks his head out.
He curses under his breath when he doesn’t see Charlie on the wall anymore. His eyes scan the lot before landing on me. “Hey! Have you seen a girl with reddish-brown hair? About yay-high. Wearing this black see-through-looking thing. Bit of a ’tude.” When he finishes describing the drunk woman I’ve been trying to wrangle, I point behind me to where she’s struggling to pull herself up into the passenger seat. “Oh, thank God. You’re the one I talked to on the phone?” He breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks for coming to get her. Poor thing got stood up.”
Shit. That explains a lot.
“Thanks for calling,” I say, turning on my heel and jogging to the truck where she still struggles to get in. Planting my hands on her hips, I lift her easily into the seat. When I buckle her seatbelt, I try not to think about how close our faces are and how the sweet smell of her perfume fills my senses with each inhale. Clearing my throat, I lock the door and close it before I walk around to the driver’s seat.
We drive for ten minutes in silence before I hear a quiet sniffle from her side of the cab. When I glance over Charlie, she tries to hide that she’s wiping her eyes, but the smeared makeup gives it away. “Wanna talk about it?”
I can feel her gaze shift in my direction, but she doesn’t say anything. I turn to look at her, meeting her eyes for a brief second, before returning my gaze to the road. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“No, you’re not.” Her eyes move to look straight ahead.
“I am. I know you were excited about tonight. I’m sorry that it ended like this.” My hand grips the steering wheel, pissed off at the fucker who did this. Sure, we haven’t been getting along—had we ever truly gotten along?—but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be stood up. “You deserve better than this, Charlie.”
She scoffs. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“Charlie, look…What happened on Christmas—”
“Don’t,” she whispers, looking down at her hands folded on her lap. When I try to continue, she repeats herself, louder this time. “I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry, Zay! I don’t…I don’t care. You’ve made it clear how you feel about me, and I’ve accepted that.”
“Charlie, I don’t know how I feel about you! I don’t even know who I am! How am I supposed to offer myself to you when I don’t even know my fucking name?” I look between her and the road so many times, I almost make myself dizzy. “I don’t know if someone is out there looking for me or if I’m alone in this world. I don’t know anything. And it’s not fair to you or me to even think about getting involved with you.”
My knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. I wish she’d get it through her thick head that the problem isn’t her. It’s me. It’s all me.
Silence envelopes us for the rest of the car ride through town and up the mountain to Blackwood Ranch. When the gate is illuminated in the headlights, Charlie lets her head fall back against the headrest and sighs.
A few minutes later, I park under the carport on the side of the farmhouse but don’t get out of the cab. Charlie doesn’t, either, instead turning her head to look at me, and there’s a deep sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Xavier. For being such a bitch to you.”
“You’re not a bitch. You’re just…stubborn.” That’s one way to put it.
Charlie laughs, biting down on her lip. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
I reach over and squeeze her thigh. “Anytime, Char.”
She places her hand on top of mine, and the air becomes heavier than it was a moment ago. Charlie swallows before she moves my fingers up her thigh to the hemline of the black pleather skirt.
“Charlie,” I warn.
“Please,” she begs.
I shake my head, pulling my hand from under hers. “Not like this, Charlie.”
“I want this, Xavier! I want you.”
“Not like this. I’m not…I’m not ready for something like this and neither are you.” Maybe I’ll be able to give her what she wants one day but today is not that day. “Now, let’s go get you to bed.”
Charlie sighs but doesn’t fight me anymore. I make my way to join her on the other side, where she tries to step down from the cab but struggles in her heels. I wrap my arm around her waist, hoisting her from the seat and setting her feet firmly on the ground.
“You okay?” I ask, and she gives me a small smile in return. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s enough for now. “You’ll be okay, Charlie. I promise.” I nod, attempting to continue to convince her of the sentiment.
“Thank you, Zay.” She looks down at her feet. “Can we not tell my dad about this?”
“Might be a little hard to keep it a secret when you’re home but your truck isn’t.”
“Oh, right,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” I say, wrapping my arm around her waist and guiding her toward the house.
The whole way inside, Charlie maintains a comfortable distance between us.
“Can you manage getting into bed without falling and hurting yourself?” I ask.
“I think so.” She smiles up at me before pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek. “Thanks, Zay.” Without looking back, she enters her room and closes the door.
Less than a minute later, I’m back in my bedroom. I throw myself onto the bed, not caring that I still desperately need a shower. When my head hits the pillow, I can barely keep my eyes open, and the thoughts of Charlie are quickly replaced by the woman I’ve dreamed of almost every night since arriving in Bezer.
Her face is still trapped in the fog plaguing my mind, but I know there’s something important about her. I think she’s the key to figuring out who I am. This woman is one of the reasons I can’t give Charlie what she wants…I can’t offer myself to Charlie when I feel like I’ve already done so with this other woman.
There’s an ache in my chest when I think about her. A longing for something missing, and I know it’s her. But how do I explain that to Charlie? I can’t. She’d never understand. Hell, I don’t understand. And now I’m starting to wonder if I ever will.