Chapter 28
The morning sun filtered through the frosted windows of Grams’s house, casting golden light on the snow-draped landscape outside.
The storm had passed, leaving the world crisp, bright, and deceptively peaceful.
Inside, Grams bustled about, packing sandwiches into a basket and muttering about how Charlotte and Cowboy couldn’t possibly leave without something to eat.
The warmth of the kitchen, both literal and emotional, was a stark contrast to the icy chaos they’d survived the night before.
Charlotte stood by the doorway, her coat in hand, watching her grandmother with a mix of affection and exasperation. “Grams, we’re not going on a picnic. We’re heading back to clean up whatever’s left of this mess.”
Grams didn’t look up, her hands deftly wrapping a loaf of bread in wax paper. “Nonsense. You need to eat. Just because you’re off saving the world doesn’t mean you can skip meals.”
Cowboy chuckled from the corner, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “She’s got a point, Charlotte.”
Charlotte shot him a mock glare before turning back to Grams. “Fine. Pack your sandwiches. But we’re leaving in ten minutes.”
Grams finally stopped her work and turned to Charlotte, her hands resting on the counter. Her face, though lined with age, was soft with affection and something deeper—a wisdom earned through years of joy, pain, and everything in between. “Before you go, I need a word with you.”
Charlotte blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in her grandmother’s tone. “Okay…”
Grams gestured toward the living room, her no-nonsense demeanor leaving no room for argument. Charlotte glanced at Cowboy, who shrugged, then she followed her grandmother into the other room.
The power was back on, but a fire burned low in the hearth, the warmth lingering. Grams settled into her favorite armchair with a sigh. She motioned for Charlotte to sit on the couch, and when Charlotte did, she found herself drawn in by her grandmother’s steady, knowing gaze.
“I’ve been watching you, my girl,” Grams began, folding her hands in her lap. “And I’ve seen that look in your eyes. The one that says you’re scared out of your wits.”
Charlotte frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m not scared. I’m fine.”
“Oh, I don’t mean scared of the storm or Sarkisyan or any of that nonsense,” Grams said with a dismissive wave. “I mean scared of that man sitting in my kitchen, waiting for you to let him in.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when she saw the gentle smile on her grandmother’s face.
The old woman leaned forward, her expression softening.
“Charlotte, love isn’t something you can control.
It isn’t something you can lock away or keep at arm’s length because you’re afraid it’ll hurt you.
It will hurt you. It’s messy and complicated and terrifying.
But it’s also the most beautiful thing in the world. ”
Charlotte looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. “I’ve been in love before, remember? It didn’t go well.”
“I know you’ve been hurt.” Grams reached out, covering Charlotte’s hands with her own. “But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. That doesn’t mean you don’t give yourself the chance to find something real. And from what I can see, that young man out there is about as real as it gets.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened, and she shook her head. “I’m not afraid of Cowboy. I’m afraid of me. I don’t want to lose myself. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to figure out who I am, what I want. What if I give too much of myself to him and have nothing left for me?”
Grams smiled, a bittersweet curve of her lips.
“Drink deeply, and trust that the well will fill. Am I saying it will never go dry? There are no promises in this life, no matter what we may say to each other. That well might go dry. And if it does, you’ll have to dig a new well.
You might even have to pickup your whole life and move, find somewhere else to live and drill and drill and drill until you’re able to find water again.
But you will. And you know what I would say to you then? ”
“What?”
“Drink deeply, and trust that the well will fill.”
For a moment, Charlotte said nothing. The weight of her grandmother’s words settled over her like a heavy, comforting blanket, wrapping around the raw, vulnerable parts of her heart.
She thought about Cowboy—the way he looked at her, the way he fought for her, the way he made her feel safe and seen in a way no one else ever had.
She still hadn’t gotten her period, and she didn’t think she would get it for quite some time.
But that thought was less frightening than it had been initially, Jack settling in for the ride just as she was.
She stood and opened her arms, giving Grams a big squeeze. “I love you, Grams.”
“I love you, too.” Grams released her and lightly touched the tip of Charlotte’s nose. “Don’t wait three years to come visit me next time.”
A faint rustle in the doorway made them both turn. Cowboy stood there, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern, and it occurred to Charlotte there wasn’t another human being she’d rather have standing on the threshold. “We ready to go?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m ready.”