Chapter 5
Chapter Five
CHARLOTTE (NOW)
I wake to the wind in the trees and the ping of pinecones bouncing off the metal roof. I slept with my window cracked open, but I must be out of practice because my sleep was interrupted several times by the whoosh of swaying branches and the patter of raindrops.
As a kid, I loved the rain. The way it smells. The sudden violence of our mountain storms. How they wash everything clean.
In Seattle, it rains all the time. Mostly, it smells of wet concrete.
After checking the time, I peel back the covers and slip on a pair of pajama pants.
The bare wood floor is ice-cold. Why didn’t I bring my slippers?
I dig out a set of old hiking socks and tug them on, then pull on my Olympic Music Festival hoody and pad to the door.
Theo is on nights right now and won’t be home until late morning, but what about Will? My empty stomach gives a painful jolt.
Last night he looked as good as ever. Those otherworldly blue eyes, edged with something dark…hungry. I used to think he was dangerous. It would be better if I still did.
I press my forehead against the back of the door. No . No, no, no. I cannot be tempted by William Hayes. Not again and certainly not now.
The therapist I saw for a while would tell me to hold those memories gently, the way a mother might comfort her child. What happened is not your fault , she reminded me. You did the best you could to move forward.
The house is quiet when I step into the hallway, but Ollie must hear me because she comes trotting around the corner, her fluffy ears perked. Panic fires beneath my skin. I flatten my back against the wall when she breaks into a gallop.
Ollie sniffs my toes while I stay still, her tail wagging so hard her entire back end does too.
“Ollie,” William warns.
I glance up just as Ollie sits, her tail still going.
“Sorry, she’s still kind of a puppy,” William says, tapping his leg. He’s wearing those faded Levi’s, a plain white T-shirt, and mismatched socks.
Ollie gives me one last look of longing before obeying Will and trotting over.
“It’s okay.” I force a full breath into my lungs. I have no need to fear Will’s dog. Of course I don’t.
Will squats down to pet Ollie, then kisses the top of her head. “There’s coffee.”
This sounds like an invitation, and though I’m hungry, I’m not feeling very social.
“Thanks,” I manage. If it’s just coffee, I’ll grab a cup and slip back to my room.
On my way to the hospital later, I’ll pick up a few breakfast bagels—Morgan’s favorite.
She’s probably ready for some real food by now.
William heads for the kitchen. I force my eyes from his sculpted backside before it pulls me down memory lane. A trajectory that will take me straight off a cliff if I let it.
The morning sun is already burning off the clouds, making the kitchen look cozier than the glimpse I got last night.
A round, wood table with four chairs takes up the middle of the spacious, open room, with a handsome stained glass light fixture hanging above it.
A long counter with cupboards and a big farmhouse sink frame the back wall.
The big window offers a view of the backyard which is framed by giant pine trees and shrubs with lacy white flowers.
But it’s what’s on the other side of the sliding glass door that makes a lump tighten in my throat. Partially out of sight on the right side of the covered porch is a daybed swing.
I shoot William a glare because how dare he? But he’s grabbing a carton of hazelnut creamer from the fridge, which just makes my heart pound harder against my ribs.
Damn him.
“When are you heading to Evergreen?” he asks, oblivious to the war going on inside me as he pours two mugs of coffee.
“Visiting hours start at eight thirty.”
He leans back against the counter and cradles his coffee at his chest. I try not to stare at his big, skilled hands. Or the way his corded, tanned forearms flex, like he’s ready to throw a fifty-yard touchdown pass or drag a firehose into a burning building.
Or throw me over his shoulder. Maybe take me out to that porch bed. Just like in my daydreams.
“Have you…talked to her yet?”
Shaking my head, I unscrew the cap of the creamer and pull the tab off, then look for the garbage.
William steps next to me and opens the right-side cupboard below the sink, then holds open his palm for the plastic tab.
The brush of his skin on mine when I comply sends a warning buzz down my spine.
I step sideways to add some space between us then pour the creamer into my coffee, my eyes on my task and not Will’s face. And definitely not his eyes.
“The house. It’s yours?” I ask even though I know the answer. The neighborhood alone would have tipped me off, but it was those flowering shrubs and the trees that really sold me. I’m sure if I asked, Will could tell me about each species, right down to the Latin names and their optimal soil pH .
“Yeah. I...bought it when I moved home.”
Asking him the questions unspooling in my brain should be easy, but I bite each one of them back.
I don’t get to care why he walked away from the NFL.
I don’t get to care that he decided to return to Finn River or wonder why he chose to become a firefighter.
Or that he recruited Theo to be his roommate, which must have happened when Theo started his residency at Evergreen last spring.
I tuck the creamer back into the fridge just as my stomach growls again.
“Are you working today?” I ask him.
“I’m off till Friday,” he replies.
Great. Two more days of awkward. Of enduring his kindness while I dance around feelings I’ve tried so hard to smother.
I need to find a new place to crash. Though Wren and Denny just got a place together.
She said they have a loft, but I don’t think they’re looking for an indefinite houseguest. Emmie’s filming in Wyoming—did she ever find someone to sublet her room?
I’ve thought about moving into Morgan’s house.
It would certainly make picking up the slack at Thunder Mountain easier.
But I have a feeling I’m not going to find the house in any shape for a guest. And it’s farther from Evergreen than Will’s place.
I sip from my coffee and glance out the window.
“Can I do anything for you today?” William asks. Though he’s standing a foot away, his right hand rests on the counter an inch from mine. An ache ebbs low in my belly.
Hold me and tell me it’s all going to be okay. That the choices I made didn’t ruin us all for good.
“No,” I say, forcing the tremor from my voice.
Today is going to take all my strength, and he’s draining it with every second I’m near him. I spin away and carry my coffee back to my room.
On my drive to town, my phone rings through my Bluetooth. My thoughts are a mess, but I’m eager for an update.
“Hey, Pierre,” I say.
“Morning. You made it okay?”
“Yeah.” I stop at the end of Morning Star and turn left, toward town, and the hospital. “How is he today?”
“Not a great night, so he’s…restless.”
I sigh while my heart squeezes inside my chest. Is it too much to ask the universe for the small favor of easing this incredible man’s pain? “Any interest in music?”
“He hasn’t played since you left.”
That’s to be expected, but it still makes me ache inside. “Okay. Could I talk to him?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe later. Or…tomorrow.”
“I sent him a postcard,” I say. Even though it cost me a half hour of progress yesterday, I was thinking about him and I couldn’t shake the image of the card in his hands making him smile.
“What a sweet idea,” Pierre says. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
We end the call just as I cross over Miner Creek and continue to town, passing the park and the recycling center, Glory Holes on the corner. I consider stopping in for my favorite treats, but I decide on sustenance instead and continue to the bagel shop for breakfast sandwiches.
I’m spinning away with my order plus my hazelnut iced latte when I nearly crash into the person waiting behind me.
“Charlie?”
I stare into the woman’s eyes as a flood of memories explode inside me. “Mrs. Taggart. Hey.”
Her smile is warmer than I expect. Almost tender. “It’s Sally, remember?”
“Right,” I say, nodding. My hands are full, but I don’t think she’d hug me anyway. We were never close like that, even though for a brief period of time, she was my lifeline .
“I…heard about Morgan.” Her blue eyes tense. “How’s she doing?”
Has Sally kept tabs on Morgan since she helped us? I have the sudden urge to ask her if what we did was a mistake. Did the choice we made back then prevent Morgan from healing?
“She’s hanging in there,” I manage.
Sally’s intelligent eyes laser on me, but I can’t say more. Not here anyway. “If there’s anything you need, you have my number.”
“Thanks.”
“Take care, Charlie,” she says.
I head for the door.
Huffing a hard breath to draw my emotions back into their rightful place behind my breastbone, I continue to my car. But even when I’m back behind the wheel, the memories won’t stop playing.
Morgan and I are sitting in Sally’s study, our hands clasped in each other’s while Sally explains how everything will work.
The rules. Our compensation. The consequences.
It’s the best outcome for both of you. The leather couch is cool beneath my knees.
Outside, a gentle wind makes the golden aspen leaves shimmer in the sunlight.
Sally exits the bagel shop, snapping me back to the present. She’s carrying a white paper bag like mine, and a coffee. She’s dressed for court in black slacks and a pale pink blouse, her blonde hair swept into a tidy twist.
I have no doubt she’s still as formidable as ever. And I’m grateful for what she did for Morgan and me. But seeing her…it makes those old wounds feel raw again.