Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
CHARLOTTE (NOW)
When we sit down for dinner, platters and bowls heaped with barbecued chicken, homemade coleslaw, corn on the cob, and cornbread with honey butter, I’m so warmed by the company and the soft buzz from my two beers that I forget to be modest about filling my plate.
Not that anyone cares, but it just makes my already full heart hiccup in my chest. These people have never made me feel anything other than loved for who I am.
I just didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it.
We’re just finishing our slices of Barb’s apple pie with vanilla-cinnamon ice cream when there’s a knock on the door. Rowdy jumps up and moments later, a Finn River Sheriff’s deputy stands in the doorway, a calm look in his brown eyes. I’m confused why he’s here, until I see what he’s carrying.
Conversation quiets, and all eyes turn to me.
“Charlotte?” the deputy asks.
I stand, my heart galloping so hard my ribs feel brittle. “Is that…?” Getting the words out takes effort, and I wince at how it roughens my to ne.
“Morgan’s guitar?” he replies with a soft smile. “I heard you were here. Thought you could confirm it for us.”
Zach comes over. “Charlotte, this is Everett. He’s been helping me with Morgan’s investigation.”
Morgan’s investigation rattles around in my mind while he and Everett share a silent glance.
“Can I look inside?” I ask.
William appears next to me while the conversation ramps back up from the patio. “We can go into the living room.”
As we trail into the sunken living room to the left, a burst of radio chatter fills the silence, but Everett is quick to turn the knob to quiet it. He sets the guitar on the coffee table.
I squat down and click open the bronze clasps, then lift the lid.
The scent from inside, musky and familiar, swirls around me while the bright lighting reflects the rich, honey shine of the wood.
A woven strap is attached to the neck and the button at the base.
Morgan was always too lazy to remove it for storage after she played, something that used to irk me to no end.
“May I?” I ask Everett.
Standing to the side, partly in shadow from the dark hallway, he nods.
I give all six strings a soft strum. The sound is muffled by the case, the strings terribly out of tune, but that they’re in working order brings me a flash of relief.
I shift the case to the side and settle on the edge of the coffee table, the guitar braced off my thigh, and strum again, louder this time.
“Is it okay?” William asks from where he’s perched on the arm of the couch.
“I think so.” I can’t help adjusting the pegs to bring the guitar back into tune. “Where did you find it?”
Everett makes quick eye contact with Zach before he says. “It turned up in a bust Friday night.”
I want to ask if R.J. was part of that bust, but the words fizzle in my throat. Instead, I tell myself it doesn’t matter.
“I’ll just have you sign a release,” Everett says, pulling out a phone in a thick, worn case. He pulls up a screen for me, then hands it over. I skim the legalese then sign with my fingertip.
“Thank you for bringing this over.” I lock eyes with him. “It means a lot.”
He smiles. “Welcome. We’re still hunting for the violin and the trumpet. We have a couple of leads, so…” His eyes soften.
I play a couple of chords. It’s not perfectly tuned yet, but it sounds rich and bright, just like I remember.
Zach cups Everett’s shoulder, and the two of them head for the door.
“Wait!” I set the guitar in its case, then brush past them to the entryway where I left my purse hanging from the coat rack, and dig out Morgan’s phone.
“Here, we found this today. It’s Morgan’s.” My voice is fast and breathy, and there’s a tremor in my fingers as I drop the phone into Everett’s hand.
I give him the unlock code, and he tries it, then nods.
“Thank you,” Everett says, navigating to the settings. Most likely to keep it unlocked. He and Zach slip outside.
Back in the living room, I fasten the clasps on the guitar case and set it on the ground.
“Think Morgan will be happy to see it?” William asks.
The question chafes something raw inside me. Or I’m remembering the state of Morgan’s bedroom that first day. The empty instrument closet and dusty piano keys. “It’s worth a try, right?”
He steps closer, and I’m so relieved when he pulls me into a gentle hug that my exhale catches in my throat.
The choice I made back then was never intended to separate Morgan from music, from creating. If anything, it was intended to give her an avenue to continue playing.
I’ve made so many mistakes. Can I fix what’s broken without scarring myself and the people I love a second time ?
“Is it Morgan’s?” Theo asks from the patio doorway, making me jump back.
“Yeah,” I croak. I risk a glance, but his gaze is fixed on William. A chill settles low and heavy in the air separating us.
“I’ll bring it to her tomorrow,” I say with forced lightness.
Theo checks his watch. “You need a ride home? I could drop you?—”
“I’m taking her,” William interrupts, his tone even but I note the tension in his jaw.
Theo’s gaze meets mine again. “I’m good,” I say to reassure him.
With one final flick of his gaze toward William, he slips past the living room and through the front door.
“Um, what was that about?” I ask him, frowning.
“It’s an old story,” William says just as the rest of the party migrates into the kitchen, empty platters and plates in hand, their bright chatter and laughter filling the house.
After everyone pitches in cleaning up, guests depart one by one. William and I say goodbye and I pick up Morgan’s guitar. The driveway is empty by the time we step outside.
Cricket song crowds the silence. The cool night air is heavy with pine and hints of the lavender growing at the edges of Zach and Sofie’s yard. Above us, the sky is an inky bowl of bright stars. Ollie trots by my side, her soft fur brushing my bare legs.
I fight the urge to reach for William’s hand with my free one. The yearning for him has been growing inside me all day, and now that we’re alone, it’s vibrating from inside my very bones. It’s confusing, and powerful, and wrong. Or is it?
At the back of the truck, William lowers the tailgate and Ollie leaps up.
But before Will can close her inside, she spins to my face and licks my nose .
“Hey!” I say with a laugh, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweater.
“That’s a high honor,” William says, scratching her head. “Isn’t it, girl.”
She licks his knuckles.
Will walks me to the passenger door and folds the seat down so I can slide in Morgan’s guitar. Just as I flip the seat back into place, a white burst of light burns across the horizon. “Shooting star!” I say too late.
Will whirls around. “Damn. Missed it.”
“Maybe there will be more.”
He turns back, and I realize how close we’re standing, with the darkness pressing in.
My heart wallops into my throat and a lush heat unfurls inside my chest, releasing a fresh crop of butterflies that spin and dive.
William’s nostrils flare, and his inhale is so shaky, his chest rattles. His fingertips graze the side of my cheek, ghosting along my jaw. Slowly, so slowly while I unravel from the inside out.
He curls a stray lock of hair behind my ear, the tenderness of his touch drawing my cravings and fears right to the surface.
Kiss me!
Don’t kiss me!
His thumb glides behind the shell of my ear to the pulse now throbbing below it.
“Are you scared?” he asks, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he stares down at me.
Emotion stings behind my eyes. I try to catch a breath but it sticks to my numb tongue. “Are you?”
“The only thing I’m scared of is losing you a second time.”
“William,” I get out before the rest of it bottles up inside my throat.
I slide my hand to the back of his neck and tug him to me.
The emotions I’ve been so disciplined in controlling surge loose, sending quivers down my thighs.
I close my eyes as his lips touch mine, his peppery scent enveloping me like a cloud I could get lost in.
I grip his neck tighter and drink in the plush warmth of his mouth on mine.
The way he lingers, drawing out each slow, hungry kiss.
In the back of my mind, alarm bells are screaming, but they’re no match for the desire ratcheting up inside me.
So I tune into the gentle flick of his tongue, the sweet tension in my muscles and the heat purring inside me like an engine, and the thump of my pulse dropping down, down, to the growing ache between my thighs.
I place my other hand on his chest. His steady, quickening breaths expand into my palm, the muscles beneath his shirt taut and lean.
He caresses down my spine to rest the flat of his big hand in the small of my back, and tugs me closer.
The heat of his body lights up every point of contact.
His belt buckle against my navel. His thighs, strong and powerful against mine.
His chest, firm against my nipples with every breath I try and fail to steady.
I kiss him, my tongue tangling with his, the desire inside me thick and loud, like thunder in my ears.
I arch my hips to get him closer, bringing the firm ridge of his erection against where I’m aching for him. He hisses a breath as electric pulses sizzle beneath my skin. The sensation is both frustrating because I want more, and intensely sweet, because have I ever felt this free?
He draws me closer, eliminating the final gap separating us.
I play with the curls at the nape of his neck and move my other hand to his waist. My breaths feel heavy and light at the same time, like maybe I’m not getting enough oxygen.
It’s making my thoughts blur and my focus tumble somewhere beyond reach, like he’s the drug I can’t get enough of.
He caresses my bare thigh while his kisses send me adrift on a warm bright river, the wind in my hair.
I don’t realize I’m rocking against him until he’s cupping my ass over my skirt, moving with me. A needy whimper leaves my lips. “More,” I pant.
He tucks under my skirt, his big hand molding the shape of my thigh on his way up. When he slides beneath the fabric of my underwear to caress the bare curve of my ass, I kiss him again, twining my tongue with his. The warmth and tenderness of his kisses is addicting.
He groans into my mouth as I press harder against him. But the skirt is making it impossible to get the friction I need.
“Please.” It comes out desperate. Should I be ashamed?
But this is his fault for being so damn irresistible.
For walking around his house in those Levi’s and mismatched socks.
For working alongside me at the rescue. For the way he’s never given up on me, even though I’ve tried so hard to make him forget we were ever a perfect fit.
Will’s lashes flutter open, his dark eyes tensing with a sultry lust that I feel deep in my core.
My clit cramps and the hot ache between my legs makes me squeeze them together.
With his eyes still on me, William caresses across the front of my thigh, rumpling the hem of my skirt, and glides his thumb over the throbbing flesh of my pussy.
I suck in a gasp, my hips quivering.
“You need me here, don’t you, baby?” he says, rubbing over the cotton while he kisses along my jaw.
A soft cry tumbles from my lips. My head is spinning and there’s too much pressure in my temples, disconnecting me from my thoughts. A bright, hot desire whips around and around inside me. It’s too big for me to hold onto. Too powerful.
William tucks under the fabric, the flat of his fingers firm and slick against me.
The shock of pleasure sends shivers down my spine.
I fist his belt buckle and tuck my face into his shoulder.
He strokes and teases me with his steady, firm touch, circling the aching bundle of nerves with increasingly firm strokes exactly the way I need it.
It’s just like he used to touch me. With focus and care, like he can read me.
He eases my underwear down, and the breath of cool air against my hot flesh only intensifies the reckless need cracking open inside me.
“William,” I whimper, my body vibrating, my craving coiling tighter and tighter. My fingertips have dipped inside the waistband of his jeans, my palm folded over the angular, hot metal of his buckle like grabbing onto it can keep me from floating away.
“I’m here, Charlotte. I’m right here,” he says in my ear, his voice firm and threaded with so much caring that another layer of my defenses shatters loose and melts into the abyss.
A sob catches in my throat as the pleasure peaks.
It’s bright and rich and so pure I have to clench my eyes shut so it doesn’t blind me.
Obliterate me. I cry out, my lips pressed into his shoulder while he plays my body like an instrument he knows by heart.
The pleasure is intense, almost sharp, reverberating through me like the final notes of some long-forgotten song.
My cries soften and the drug of my release ebbs, leaving me panting into the crook of his neck and my thighs shaking with aftershocks.
William slips his fingers from my sensitive skin, making me quiver, and brings them to his lips, groaning in appreciation as he sucks them clean. I stare in shock as renewed desire tightens at the base of my spine.
He sees me watching and flashes me a mischievous smirk. “Get in the truck, blackbird. I have plans for you.”
A laugh tumbles free at the same time my heart gives a sharp tug at his old nickname.
I thought maybe he’d forgotten it. I try to hold onto this carefree feeling for a little bit longer.
Because I’m going to start overthinking everything soon enough.
“I hope they don’t include waking the rest of this neighborhood. ”
His grin turns sly. He caresses up my thigh and slides my underwear back into place. “Tempting, but no.”
Reaching my arms around his neck, I pull him to me for a kiss.
His lips meet mine and I taste the hint of salt from my release.
With a groan, he grips my ass, rocking me into him, the firm thickness in his jeans rubbing where I’m starting to ache all over again.
He lifts me onto the seat and though I try to keep him close, he slips from my embrace then waits for me to buckle in before shutting the door.
I watch him walk around the back of the truck, pausing to give Ollie a quick scratch on her head before climbing in and starting the engine.