Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
I park on the street at Charlotte’s house and step down, my boots sinking into the crusty snow plowed from the roads after last night’s storm.
Everything is covered in white. White roofs, white pine boughs, white lawns, white cars.
Even with the low clouds obscuring the jagged mountains, it’s seriously pretty. Clean, almost peaceful.
And totally opposite of the chaos going on inside me.
Because of the holiday break, I haven’t seen Charlotte since the Christmas party two weeks ago. I know from Theo that he and Morgan got into a raging fight after the party, and he feels like shit now. But he has a right to be worried given that their mom is a drunk.
But he hasn’t mentioned anything about Garett. I was prepared for the story about the fight to make it to Ray and for him to tip off Zach, but so far nothing’s come of it. I should be relieved. Instead, it’s eating at me.
That and my mistake. Calling her sweetheart.
In my defense, I was out of my mind. Afraid I’d been too late.
Charlotte slips from her house dressed in stone-colored chinos rolled up, boots, and her blue puffy jacket. A knitted wool hat with a white pompom covers her head and her silky hair is tied back in a loose braid.
“Morning,” I say, meeting her in the driveway, stuffing my cold hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“Morning.” She flashes me the hint of a smile.
It’s like being hit by an electrical current. I fucking live for her smiles.
“Wow, it really dumped last night, didn’t it?” She high-steps through a corner of her yard to reach the passenger side of the truck.
“Sixteen inches.” As usual, I have to hurry to keep up with her.
“You’ve seen snow before,” Charlotte says with a frown.
I grunt. “Sure, last winter.”
When I get to the door first and open it for her, she gives me a curious look, but I glance away. I would help her up but that feels like maybe crossing a line. And we’re still within view of her front window.
“But you’re from Alaska,” she says.
“Coastal Alaska. As in sea level.”
Once she’s settled, I shut the door and high-step through the plowed berm of snow to my side and climb in.
“Every picture of Alaska shows snowy mountains everywhere,” she says as I start the engine.
The heat comes blasting out of the vents along with the radio. I turn it down. “Every now and then it snows in Storm Harbor, but it’s like wet concrete, and it rarely lasts.”
She tugs off her hat and reaches for the stereo. “Okay if I play DJ?’
I check the mirrors and pull away from the curb. “Sure. I only have radio though.” A new Bluetooth setup is like four hundred bucks. Maybe I can get one after next summer’s paycheck.
“Do you miss Alaska?” She settles on a country station then unzips her coat and tugs it off, revealing a peach-colored sweater that accentuates her narrow shoulders and perfect tits .
I force my eyes back to the road. “Uh, I don’t miss playing in pissing-down rain all the time.”
Her smile turns thoughtful. “I love the rain.”
“Why?”
Her soft “Hmm” is like the brush of her fingertips across my shoulders. “It smells good. And it makes me want to curl up under a blanket and daydream.”
I give her a curious glance. Where has this romantic side of her been hiding?
Though this is only our second lesson, Charlotte is starting to catch on. So much so that she doesn’t need my help shifting, which should not stir me up inside. But it does, and it’s pissing me off.
After a few trips up and down Morning Star, she pulls over as the road starts to ascend up the side of the valley.
“Why not keep going?” I ask her. “We can put it in four wheel drive.” I point at the lever on the right side of the footwell. The streets got plowed so I haven’t bothered with it yet, but the road ahead is covered by compact snow and probably some icy spots.
Her eyes brighten. “Okay, let’s go.”
I coach her through the steps to engage the four-wheel drive, and then we’re underway again.
The view opens up to reveal the base of a wide bowl at the head of the basin, and though the clouds are still thick above us, everything except for the gray river in the center of the valley below us is covered in white.
The radio turns to static, so I shut it off. The whine of the engine and the occasional gust from the alpine breeze fills the silence. It’s not awkward, but I rack my brain for something good to talk about.
“Have you been working on any new songs?” I ask as she shifts into second, her focus on the snowy road ahead flanked by leafy hemlock and tall spruce.
“Yeah, plus I finished ‘Nesting Box.’”
I give her a curious look.
She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, then flicks her gaze to mine. “The last song from the party.”
“It wasn’t done?”
She shakes her head.
“And you still played it?”
“I just layered in a little more to the chorus and tidied up the ending.”
She’s always pushing herself to do more, be more. “Sounded pretty good to me.”
“I’m sure you have a play or a throw that everyone raves about but that you know has flaws.”
“True.” The silence stretches between us. Charlotte masters a wide turn, and the trees thin even more, opening up the view to the broader valley to the west, including the sapphire blue of Bear Lake.
“What happened with Garett?” I ask because it’s clear the only way I’m getting answers is to push for them.
She gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “Dad fired him.”
“That’s it?”
“What else is there?”
The lookout comes into view. “Reporting him to the police would be a start.”
“And have Zach find out you were in another fight?”
I ball my fist and tap it against my thigh. “Pull over.”
She scowls at me. “What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
With a huff, she steers into the parking area. Though it’s been plowed, there’s a foot of new snow on top, cut by a few sets of tire tracks, and my wheels crunch through it as Charlotte coasts the truck to a stop and sets the brake.
I reach over and turn off the ignition, then shift sideways in the seat to face her. “Please tell me you didn’t hold back from reporting this asshole on my account.”
The steady gusts buffeting the truck fill the silence. She gives another shrug, her face still.
If I live for her smiles, her shrugs make me want to rip down walls .
“I’ll go home and fess up to Zach,” I say. Maybe fighting is wrong, but that guy deserved it. “I’m not afraid to take the heat when it comes to protecting the people I care about.”
Her mouth opens like she’s going to protest, then she closes it again and looks away. “Dad didn’t want to make a big deal about it. He said…he said maybe…” She licks her lips then gives a sigh. “Earlier that night, Garett…touched me.”
Anger fizzles up my chest. “Fuck.”
“I didn’t know what to do. I was standing there with Morgan, talking with these two music guys Dad knows, and he…ran the back of his hand across my butt.”
A current of pure fury jolts through my veins. Fucking hell.
“I was…shocked,” Charlotte continues, her focus on the expansive view through the windshield.
“He had this hard, intense look in his eye that I must have stared at too long? Or something.” She shakes her head then turns in the seat and leans back against the window.
“When he grabbed me in the hallway, he seemed convinced that I’d liked it. ”
I run my hand down my face. Where do I even start with this? It’s worse than I thought because not only is this guy an obvious predator, Charlotte thinks what happened is somehow her fault. “I’m sorry. This never should have happened. And in no fucking way is this your fault.”
“I mean, I know that, but could I have done something sooner? Yes.”
“This guy knew you wouldn’t speak up in the middle of your dad’s holiday party. He did that on purpose to manipulate you. Destabilize you. Make you second guess yourself.”
“Well, it worked.” She huffs.
I’m going to have to get Zach involved. I’ll deal with the consequences. Because this guy needs to be behind bars. Before he tries to hurt someone else. If Zach and I have learned anything from Kristov, it’s this .
“So Ray told you to drop it?” I ask.
There’s that shrug again. Fuck. “He’s got a lot going on. Morgan’s flunking two of her classes. And the drinking. Dad thinks that wasn’t the first time.”
This tears at me. I’m not a parent, but while everyone’s running around worrying about and tripping over themselves to take care of Morgan, Charlotte gets pushed aside.
Just because she gets straight A’s, never gets in trouble, and takes care of everyone else doesn’t mean she doesn’t have needs.
Maybe on the surface, it looks that way.
But the girl here in my truck with the hurt in her eyes has a different story to tell.
Has she been ignored for so long that she’s given up on having someone to protect her, listen to her, support her?
Or worse, has she come to think that she doesn’t deserve those things?
How do I fix it?
“I never got the chance to thank you,” she says.
What would have happened if I hadn’t been looking for her? I shake my head. Don’t go there. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“Did you mean what you said? That you…care about me?”
“Of course I care about you.”
Her eyes take on a glint of playfulness that softens the ache in my chest. “I care about you too, QB.”
Should it feel this good to hear her say this? “How come you didn’t invite Crosby to that party?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Didn’t even cross my mind.”
I frown. “Wait. So…you guys aren’t together?”
She laughs, reaching up to cover her mouth while her eyes brighten with delight.
I roll forward and tug her hand away. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”
Her eyes flash with a heated look that ignites a thousand flames inside me. Being this close to her, in this small space, with the rhythm of our quickening breaths broken only by the wind outside, is supercharging all that I want .
“Oh yeah?” she says. “What are you going to do about it?”
I brace off the window behind her and lean closer. Her gaze lifts to mine and her breath hitches, like she didn’t expect me to rise to this little challenge.
Watch me.
“This.” I close my eyes and kiss her.