Chapter Three Charlotte
CHAPTER THREE
CHARLOTTE
I couldn’t sit still. My left leg bounced and my right foot tingled and my heart raced faster than the time I challenged myself to sprint upstairs without breathing. I crossed my legs, then uncrossed, and then pulled my knees up to my chest.
Mr. Silent and Sexy wasn’t helping either. He hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten in the truck. My face flushed red, and my mouth seemed too dry. I wanted a huge sip of—
“Shit!”
Hayden jerked the truck to the right, his gaze slicing to me. “What? What is it?”
“I left my water bottle back in my car. What if someone steals it? It has my stickers on it, and that collection might be my pride and joy. You have a child, I have my stickers. You get it.”
His jaw twitched. Typical Hayden. I’d seen that action a million and a half times since I’d known him. Call it a point of pride, getting under his skin.
“I thought I was gonna hit something. Just settle down. Have some of my water.” He picked up his large Hawkeye Baseball water bottle and handed it to me. Our fingers brushed when I grabbed it, and my body temperature spiked like a fever.
I’d played softball my whole life. As a kid, in college, and now I was about to interview for the varsity head coach position at the high school where I’d taught for four years. I’d shared thousands of water bottles. So many that it was gross. Yet the thought of putting my mouth where his lips had touched made me giddy and silly and warm. “Can I crack a window?”
“Or we could turn the heat down. Char,” he said, his deep voice all gravelly. “Are you alright? You’re acting strange… r than normal.”
“I don’t know. I could’ve died, and now I’m stuck in a car with—” I clamped a hand over my mouth, the flames of embarrassment clawing up my throat. Save the situation! “With a wedgie. Yeah, that’s it. I’m uncomfortable.”
Hayden cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable too. The nice thing about having him crush my fantasy three years ago was that I stopped caring what he thought. No more Oh, will Hayden notice me in this? or Does this shirt make my boobs look like Hayden would check me out?
He had made it real clear he’d never view me that way. How was a girl supposed to move on from the most embarrassing night of her life when he was always around?
“Ah, well, do what you need to do.”
“I will, thanks.” Jeez. That was close.
I pretended to adjust my pants, which was just the cherry on top of the morning from hell. First, my best friend at work texted me saying how she heard the coaches at school talking shit about me. They felt I was too young and inexperienced to run an entire program. She meant well, she really did, but that’s not the crap I needed to hear before my interview. Secondly, I almost died in the Mazda Igloo. Third, I was stuck sitting next to Hayden Porter, the guy I have loved my whole life and who thinks of me as a foolish kid sister. His words, not mine.
My eye roll made my head pound, again.
“You really should see a doctor. I’m sure the resort will have one.”
His voice broke through my trip down bad-memory lane. I didn’t spare him a glance as I replied, “I have some medicine. That’ll help.”
“I’ll feel better if you get checked for a concussion.” He stared at me for a beat. “You already have a bruise forming and blood on your face.”
I rubbed my forehead and winced at the small lump. “When I wanted an excuse to not ski, this wasn’t on my list.”
“Dare I ask what was on your list?”
“Lost a contact. Jammed a toe. Or a finger. Forgot how to walk. Have a weird rash. The usual.”
He puffed out a breath that was almost like a laugh. God, why did the grumpy, silent ones have to be my type? When did that even become a thing for me?
Oh. Right.
When I was twelve and Hayden was sixteen. My brother was the chatterbox, the outgoing, annoying pain in the ass, while Hayden was strong, silent, and careful. Earning a smile from him felt like a million dollars. Even back then, when he was the hotshot shortstop for the Hawkeye baseball team, he led the team by example. By small gestures, not loud, shiny ones. It was how he never drank and was always the designated driver for the other players or how he cleaned up the dugout after every game. It’s why he was such a good assistant college coach now.
What are you doing, ding-dong? I was supposed to not think of all the reasons why I used to have feelings for Hayden. Unreciprocated ones at that. My brain and my heart and my vagina had a team meeting and agreed, wholeheartedly, to passively ignore him. Or to do the casual small talk like Oh, how’s your daughter? You like the weather? What’s your favorite Christmas movie?
It was safer and less embarrassing to keep it shallow. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. God, what a terrible phrase. My third-grade teacher repeated that every day, and now it was tattooed on my memory card no matter how much I wished it away. The phrase did not apply to my feelings about Hayden. Not even a little bit. I scooted closer to the door, like adding two extra inches between us would settle me down.
“So,” he said, his grumbly voice hitting me right in the soul, “what are you going to do if everyone else skis?”
“Great question. I have ideas. There’s a hot tub and a nail salon. Plus I have my e-reader. I never leave home without it, and I can read by the fire all day. I downloaded three new books, all with serial killers, obviously, and I can do that while you all frolic on your skis.”
“Not sure I’d call it frolicking.”
“Listen, Hop, who chooses to go down a big-ass hill on tiny, skinny sticks at the speed of light for fun?”
He did the grunt-snort thing and ran a hand over his jaw like maybe my question had merit. (It did. It was a great question.) “It’s a sport, one could argue the same thing about basketball. Why shoot a ball into a basket?”
“People don’t die playing basketball.”
“I don’t remember you being this scared when we were younger.” His dark-gray eyes held a twinkle I didn’t like. Is he baiting me?
My right eye twitched, and I recrossed my legs aggressively. “I’m fearless except when it comes to snow.”
“Or the word panties .”
“Damn it, Hayden.” I covered my ears with my hands, acting like the teenagers I taught and really showing my maturity. He already thinks I’m foolish and a kid sister. “Look, there are just some sounds I don’t enjoy hearing. It’s why I don’t like country music. The twang. The ang sound or the anti or the first part of the word ointment . It makes my skin crawl like lizards are swimming in my veins.”
“So definitely don’t ask if you brought your ointment ?”
“You are the worst.” I crossed my arms, my skin crawling. “Let’s just enjoy silence for the next seventy minutes. I could use this free time to prepare.”
“For what?” he asked, his tone a little lighter. “Stuff at school?”
Like he was genuinely curious about my life.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. He cared about me in the way you did a family friend.
“Kinda,” I said, scrolling through my phone to my interview brainstorm doc. The fifteen most commonly used coaching interview questions sat there, along with my own notes about what I would do if I led the softball program. Goose bumps broke out head to toe, not from the cold but from excitement. The thought of creating and running a softball program for our hometown had been a dream of mine for years. Coaching the same teams I played on from junior high on? I wanted it so badly. I knew the odds were stacked against me and that the good ole boys’ club would probably continue, but I had to give it my all.
Even if the athletics director didn’t like me one bit.
“Is it finals?”
“No, those are in two weeks.” I chewed my lip, my pulse racing at the possibility of achieving my goal. I knew I’d be young to run a softball program, but age didn’t equate to passion or experience or drive. I’d be going against older men who’d coached for longer, but did they have the same life experience I did? No. Not at all. I exhaled, willing myself to stop comparing my journey to theirs.
“Prepare for what then?”
Oh shit. I’d forgotten about Hayden’s question.
“My interview,” I said, way too quickly.
“Are you changing jobs?”
A prickle of annoyance weaved its way down my back. I’d been talking about this head coaching spot for months, hell, years. Everyone in my circle knew. Even my parents’ backyard neighbors, Curt and Mindy, knew about it. Was Hayden being obtuse on purpose? The thought angered me. “Didn’t Christian mention it? The head coaching job?”
He sat taller, stiffer. Then he said, “We rarely talk about you.”
Okay, did he have to say it with so much attitude? My chest tightened, and a gross, terrible weight sank in my gut. His response rattled me, and I hugged myself tighter. “Right. Of course. Why would you?”
I wasn’t important to him.
The air shifted, and my dumb eyes prickled. The night I kissed him changed everything. It wasn’t just that he turned me down; our entire friendship ended. We used to do all sorts of things together, sometimes with more friends or just him and my brother. It was fun and easy. But since that kiss, things changed. I wasn’t part of their trio anymore. Penny was, which was great. I loved her! I did. She was my sister from another mister, but the divide between Hayden and me seemed to grow bigger and bigger.
“Wait, no, it’s not—”
“Please, it’s fine.” I waved my hand in the air, dismissing his excuse.
It wasn’t fine. I wasn’t fine but that didn’t matter. Confrontation so wasn’t my thing. I hated it at school when students acted out and even more so when parents wanted to talk about their students’ grades. I cowered, desperate to find the middle ground always. The only time I felt in my element and confident was on the diamond. An ump made the wrong call? I was right there demanding an answer. An opposing coach yelled at my girls? Bring it on.
But outside those chalked lines, I avoided confrontation at all costs.
“Charlotte,” Hayden said, his voice hesitant, “that came out harsher than I intended. I’m sorry. Of course we talk about you.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to read the words on my phone instead of looking at him. His answer didn’t feel genuine, and a part of me wanted to demand details, but it’d be more embarrassing because there would be none. No reaction was the best reaction. The path of least resistance. “Okay,” I said, using the customer service voice I perfected when I made parent phone calls.
Yes, your child is the smartest in the world. No, they’ve never done a single thing wrong. Yes, they are a gem! I had the voice down.
“What’s your—”
“Favorite holiday movie, go,” I interrupted him. I had the pre-holiday blues, which was, frankly, unacceptable as a Calhoun. Thanksgiving to New Year’s was our time to shine, our Super Bowl, our World Series. You get the idea. Christmas lived in our blood. I mean, come on, Christian and Penny were getting married on Christmas Day. They joked they would never forget their anniversary, but I knew why.
Calhouns adored the holidays. Ugly sweater parties, gift exchanges, volunteering at a soup kitchen, Toys for Tots, Angel Tree. Our family jam-packed every possible thing into the holidays. We also had movie marathons and eggnog competitions and decorated every possible surface in the house with green or red.
Hallmark movies had nothing on my parents.
Our family home had been in magazines when we were kids. We’d been featured in articles across the country and went viral on social media five times. You know those places that win awards and music playing where people who drove by had to tune in to a radio station to hear the music? That was us.
“Am I getting Calhouned?”
“Don’t use my last name as a verb, Hop. You should know this comes with the territory. Now answer.”
He sighed. “ The Grinch .”
“Which one?”
“The original, obviously. Gwen is obsessed. I’ve been a little lazy in parenting, and we may have watched it every single morning all month. She does this thing where she wants me to watch her do her Grinch smile and she shows all her teeth and it’s the cutest thing ever.”
“I think Christian sent me a video of her doing that. Adorable.”
“My mom got her a Grinch stuffed animal this year. She’s my little weirdo.”
Whenever he talked about his daughter, his entire face lit up. He smiled, and his eyes went all warm, and it made my insides turn into complete goo. Normal Hayden was hot, Dad Hayden was ridiculously sexy.
No. We don’t like him like that.
Talking about Gwen was a safe topic. Nodding, mainly to myself, I cracked the knuckles on my hands as I hoped to sound super casual and not like I wanted to throw myself at him. “So, how is Gwen doing with you leaving for two nights?”
He grunted. “She’s fine. My parents are her favorite people besides me, and they are all best friends. She’ll be spoiled rotten with ‘Baby Shark’ videos, treats, and cuddles.”
“Why do you sound mad then?”
“Ah, well.” He ran a hand through his hair, where I did not stare at the cords in his forearms. Baseball arms were also a weakness for me. Specifically, Hayden’s, but really any of them.
I fanned myself with the hem of my sweater. It was toasty in here again. I needed to keep busy, so I found a tissue and wet it before wiping away the blood on my forehead.
“I’m not upset. I’ve left her overnight before for the team, but I dread it every time.” A muscle contracted in his jaw, and he switched his left hand to right on the wheel. “I fucking hate skiing.”
I snorted. “Want to use an excuse from my list?”
“I just might, Char.”
Our eyes met for a moment, and his face softened. My stomach swooped, and my heart pitter-pattered. Why couldn’t I get over this man? Why?
Incoming call.
I jumped at the intrusive sound, recognizing my brother’s number on the dash. Phew. That was a dose of pull it together .
“Hey, Christian,” Hayden said, no trace of the warm tone he had just used for me. “We’re about an hour away due to the snow.”
“How is she?”
“I’m fine,” I answered, touched at the concern in Christian’s voice.
“She needs to be checked for a concussion to be safe,” Hayden replied, cutting me off. “No skiing for her today.”
“Hell, that’s okay. Shit, I’m so sorry, Charlotte. We should’ve waited to carpool with you today.”
“No, it’s alright. I know how excited you and Penny were to head up early. I don’t think I have a concussion, but yeah, no skiing today for me. I’m bummed.”
Hayden caught my gaze, and we shared a brief smile.
“I can stay back with you. They have games and shit, and we can sneak whiskey into the coffee.” Penny’s voice was muffled in the background.
“Yeah, Pen says she’ll take you to the salon too.”
“I’m not going to be a burden on your pre-wedding party. I refuse. You ski and snowboard and do mountainous adventures, I will be fine on my own.”
“Garrett’s down for the whiskey coffee too. We can do shifts.”
“No,” Hayden said, his aggressive coaching voice silencing my brother. “My shoulder is bothering me again, so I’ll rest with Charlotte today.”
“Dude, you told me it wasn’t flaring up.”
“I lied.”
“What the fuck? You can’t keep that shit from me. I would’ve changed plans or something. I certainly wouldn’t have taken you skiing.”
I rolled my eyes. Christian would change his dream pre-wedding plans for Hayden, but not for anyone else. Stupid bromance.
“No big deal, just gotta be careful. We’ll be there soon.”
“Thanks for helping her out, man, and, Charlotte, I’ll be glad to see your face.”
“Right back at you,” I said, smiling.
Hayden hung up, and I swore my skin tingled as he stared at me. “What?” I said. His eyes sparkled, and his lips curved up in a smile, one that went right to my core. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“My shoulder is fine. I lied, Charmander.”
My face heated at the nickname, and his gaze dropped to my lips for one hot second.
“You little sneak.” I grinned. “Well done.”
“Fuck skiing.”
I snorted, and while his smile still dazzled me and made my brain work twice as slow, the reality of the situation hit me again. Hayden and I would spend the day together, alone.
The one thing I really didn’t want to do.