Chapter 19 Charlie
CHARLIE
If I never cry again, it will still be too soon.
—from the journal of Charlie Savage
Bennett was literally the best. I’d known this for a long time, but only on an intellectual or second-hand level. Not in this intimate—could I say intimate in this context?—way.
We’d been at the cabin for three days, and Bennett was setting yet another gourmet meal in front of me. This time it was strawberry- and cream-cheese-stuffed French toast with homemade butter syrup and seasoned potatoes on the side. I was trying a caramel hot chocolate this morning.
“I’m going to have to borrow your clothes again if I keep eating like this.
” I groaned with pleasure as I took another bite.
How was food this good? Especially out here, in the middle of nowhere, when I was supposed to be wallowing in devastation after breaking up with someone I’d been with for half my life.
My plan for this honeymoon had been to cry until I couldn’t see straight, listen to heartbreak songs on repeat, and get my unwieldy emotions out of my system before I was on camera as the happy, loving bride.
And I had done my share of crying and watching sad movies (Rosie’s collection of tear-jerker DVDs was unmatched), but we’d also played cards, built a puzzle, visited a tide pool, and taken turns reading a book out loud to each other.
I kept waiting for Bennett’s sneer of disgust at all of my emotions.
Or for him to cut me off while I was speaking about Greg for the millionth time—especially since I knew Bennett didn’t like him.
But he listened while I talked about everything from our first dance (when Greg had gone all the way to Ketchikan to buy a tie to match my dress) to our last anniversary dinner (when Greg had taken a call from a client halfway through, and I’d spent the rest of the dinner watching the loving couples around us as Greg’s food grew cold).
Bennett had been the perfect friend. It was exactly what I needed.
“Today’s our last day,” he said. “And I have something I want to show you.”
I wasn’t ready to head back to reality yet, but our flight to Canada left from Ketchikan tonight, so we needed to get back.
I finished eating my French toast and helped Bennett do the dishes.
I tried to reconcile how I could feel so at peace while going through one of the hardest things of my life.
Was it because I’d already been through the hardest thing when I lost my dad?
Maybe it was Bennett. He was a calming presence.
I never felt like I had to fill the silence with speaking, and yet the silence wasn’t fraught or weighted with expectation.
I’d even fallen asleep in the middle of a conversation yesterday.
I’d drifted off while he was talking about some of the changes he wanted to make to Forrester Expeditions—and I let the tides of sleep carry me away, knowing he wouldn’t be angry at me if I did.
I still wasn’t sleeping well at night. I hadn’t had any more panic attacks, but my thoughts never quieted.
“Where are we going?” I followed him out of the cabin and into the beautiful morning. The morning fog had lifted, revealing drops of dew on the grass and moss. I inhaled the scent of fresh forest that felt synonymous with my childhood.
“Are you up for visiting the old cabin?”
I perked up. “The haunted one?”
“Allegedly haunted.” He winked and plopped a lime-green sun hat on my head like I was a kid.
I huffed and pulled it off to readjust it over my hair. “I’ve always wanted to see it.”
Last year, a couple of our friends had been shipwrecked and injured on the island, and they’d stayed in that old cabin to survive.
And even before that, Lia Halifax wrote a song about the cabin that went platinum.
It had already been legendary before either of those things happened, but now the legend had taken on mythic proportions.
People had come to Winterhaven trying to find it, but we were tight-lipped about its location.
The last thing the Forresters needed was trespassers.
We trekked through the woods, birds chirping all around us, the sound of waves hitting the shore an ever-present background track.
Bennett walked in front of me, and my gaze kept drifting to his muscular calves.
Had I ever appreciated calves on a man before?
His peaked like a mountain ridge before sloping down to his ankles.
He’d told me I had free rein to run my hands on his torso, but what about his calves?
My perusal drifted upward toward his very muscular—
“Do you know the legend of the cabin?” He turned to catch me staring at his rear end. It was a work of art—firm, fit, and framed by his hiking shorts. I’d never wanted to be jealous of my man’s glutes, but here we were. Not that Bennett was my man.
Well, legally he was. Not emotionally, though. Except I totally loved Bennett. Just not that way. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t noticed (continued to notice? Had never stopped noticing?) how attractive he was.
Ugh. Rosie and her rom-com marathons had not prepared me for how complicated a marriage of convenience would be.
I threw my gaze outward like I was trying to get a runner out on third, but not before I caught his smirky, cocky grin.
“See something you like?” he asked.
“Just letting my gaze wander.” I willed the heat away from my cheeks.
He squinted thoughtfully. “Yes, I especially love the abundance of tight, round things to see out here.” He made his hands into the shape of a butt.
“I think I blacked out. And my eyes remained in one spot as a survival mechanism …” I used my middle finger to draw a line from my eyes to the ground.
“Makes complete sense. Walking blackouts.” He sucked in air through his teeth, humor glinting in his expression. “I’m glad the sight of my butt could pull you through that difficult time. For the record?” He lowered his voice. “Totally touchable.”
I grabbed a handful of moss and chucked it at his chest. “Tell me about the cabin.”
His swagger was insufferable as he continued to lead us through the dense forest. I forced myself to look at our feet and not anywhere else. Except the occasional glimpse of those safe-to-ogle calves.
“A long time ago,” he began, “a family moved to this island from the East Coast. The father was on the hunt for freedom and adventure—and cheap land. What they hadn’t expected was the harsh living conditions.
The father left one night to go find food for his family.
A storm made it impossible for him to get back for several months, and when he finally did, his family was nowhere to be found.
He searched for them everywhere, but they’d disappeared.
He never stopped searching, and even now, you can see the glow of his lantern on foggy nights as he searches the island for his family. ”
I shivered. “Have you seen the light?”
“Rosie claims she has. And after Jules had surgery on his knee and was all loopy coming out of anesthesia, he confessed he’d seen it one time—though he denies it now.” He stopped walking so abruptly, I ran into his back. “Here it is.”
I peeked around him and took in the dilapidated structure. The roof was falling in at the middle, and the surrounding land had grown around the porch and walls, like it was trying to reclaim the space the cabin sat on.
“It’s not much, but its impact makes up for its lack of size.”
“It could be straight out of a fairy tale,” I whispered, my mind spinning with all the stories I’d read as a child. It wouldn’t surprise me to see an enchanted witch step out of the doorway and beckon us toward our deaths with promises of sweets. I ran my hands down the goose bumps on my arms.
“Want to go inside?” Bennett bounded up the questionable porch steps and held his hand out for me to take.
“Can we?”
“Just watch your step. More than one person’s been impaled by these thorns.”
I slid my hand into his, and it took him almost no effort to tug me onto the porch next to him. I brought my free hand to his chest to steady myself. Yep, just as firm as I’d imagined it would be. I curled my fingers into his T-shirt as I looked up at him.
Heat flared in his eyes before he stepped back. “Ready to explore—” He cleared his throat. “—buddy?”
Buddy? What was I? An elf? His four-year-old neighbor?
“Sure thing … partner,” I said, my eyebrows drawn low. Were we doing pet names now? These were terrible ones, if so.
I shook the weirdness off as I followed him inside, and we entered an enchanted world. Vines and leaves grew on the inside walls and wound around the posts. The blackened fireplace had fresh wood stacked next to it.
“We haven’t done much to the cabin since we bought the island. We mostly want to keep everything the same as it is. But we do stock fresh wood here now, and Haydn filled the cupboard with survival supplies just in case.”
I opened it up to see a flare, a couple of thermal blankets, a first aid kit, a hand crank radio, batteries, and a flashlight. “Smart.”
I explored every corner, which didn’t take long, since the cabin was so small. It was hard to imagine an entire family living here.
I sat on the floor in front of the empty fireplace. “Do you ever think how weird it is that we’re going on a show about surviving in the wild for other people’s entertainment, but that was actually the way people lived for so long?”
“I guess it is strange.” He sat beside me, a generous couple feet between us.
“You know what else is strange?”
He tilted his head toward me.
“We’re married.”
“I don’t think I’ve fully processed it yet,” Bennett said.
“Me neither.” I scooted toward him, and he edged away in tandem. “Why are you doing that?”
“Doing what?”
I moved a little closer to test it, and he moved away again, almost touching the wall this time. “That!” I accused.
“I’m not doing anything.” He sounded genuinely confused. Did he really not notice that every time I got a little close to him, he sprang away from me like I carried a plague? This was so unlike Bennett, who always loved to be casually touching, I didn’t know if I should be worried or offended.
I scrambled as fast as I could toward him, and his eyes widened as I plopped down next to him, our arms pressed together.
I tried to imagine doing something like this with Greg, but I couldn’t.
First, Greg would have never sat on a dirty floor with me.
And second, I was always too self-conscious to call Greg out or be silly with him.
Which made me sad if I thought too much about it, and I needed a break from being sad.
“Hi.” I fluttered my lashes.
His arm bumped against mine playfully. “Hi.”
“Do I smell?”
“No.”
“Do I make you want to vomit?”
He blinked, and his arm finally relaxed. “Of course not.”
“Have you revoked my torso-touching rights?”
He choked on his spit and had to cough a few times before he could speak again. “No.”
“Then why are you treating me like I have cooties?”
“I’m still figuring out how to navigate this.” He shook his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know this is a hard week, and I wanted to give you space.”
Oh. The last thing I ever wanted was space.
Did no one else feel this nearly consuming desire to just belong?
To be a part of a pair? To be noticed and known and loved?
Not that I expected Bennett to give me those things, but it felt like we were the only two people in civilization right now.
In just a few days … we’d really be that way.
“I’m trying to figure it out too,” I said quietly. “But I’m not going to survive this without an abundance of Bennett hugs.” A horrible, mortifying thought hit me, and I tilted away from him. “Unless you want space.”
“Not even a little bit,” he growled. He threw his arm over my shoulder and tucked me tightly into his side. I relaxed into him.
Warmth rushed through me, which he ruined by giving me a noogie.