Chapter 6 - Charlotte
SIX
CHARLOTTE
The beauty school's front entrance offers pathetic shelter from the storm. Rain pounds the small awning above my head, overflowing the gutters in sheets. Every few seconds, the wind shifts and sprays ice-cold water across my legs.
I pull my jacket tighter and check my phone again.
7:23 PM.
Koda texted twenty minutes ago that he was on his way, and I've been standing here ever since, trying to convince myself I made the right choice.
I could have called a tow truck or waited until morning and dealt with it then. I could have even asked Adrian for help, although the idea of owing him another favor made my skin crawl.
But when I'd been standing next to my useless car, trying to figure out what to do, I'd pulled out the piece of paper with Koda's number on it instead.
My hands had shaken when I hit send, and they're still shaking now.
What is he thinking right now, driving through this storm to come get me? Does he think I'm using him? That I'm some helpless kid who can't handle her own problems?
The anxiety twists in my stomach.
I shift my weight and wrap my arms around myself against another gust of wind.
Koda responded so fast to my text. Less than two minutes after I sent it, like he'd been waiting for an excuse to help me. Or maybe like he felt obligated.
Ugh, what if he feels obligated?
What if this is just one more responsibility he has to shoulder because of Dad, because of some unspoken promise they made years ago to look out for each other's families?
What if I'm reading everything wrong?
The way he looked at me at The Summit could have been nothing more than surprise at seeing me grown up.
The careful distance he keeps could be appropriate boundaries, not the restraint I want it to be.
This morning at the diner, when he'd called me sweetheart and paid for my coffee, maybe that was just him being kind.
Maybe I'm the only one feeling this pull between us, this current of something I can't name and shouldn't want.
Headlights cut through the rain at the end of the street.
The truck moves slowly through the flooded road. Even through the downpour, I can see the wipers working furiously. The truck pulls up to the curb and comes to a stop. Then the driver's side door opens, and Koda steps out into the storm.
Rain immediately soaks his jacket, plastering his hair to his head, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just walks around the front of the truck with purpose and pulls open the passenger door for me.
My heart flips in my chest.
"Hop in," he calls out to me.
I run down the sidewalk and climb inside. Koda shuts the door firmly behind me, sealing me into the warm cab, then jogs back around to the driver's side. He climbs back behind the wheel and cranks the heat up. Then he reaches into the back seat, pulls out a gym towel and hands it to me.
"What's your address?" He asks.
I give it to him, and he nods, putting the truck in gear.
We pull out onto the main road. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the sound of rain hammering the windshield and the rhythmic thump of the wipers.
"Thanks so much for rescuing me," I finally say, clutching the towel. "I didn't know who else to call."
He flicks his eyes over to me, then back to the road. "No problem. Your dad would kill me if I left you stranded."
There it is. My dad. The unbreakable force field between Koda and me. The reminder punches a hole in my chest and fills it with fizzing, useless guilt.
"How was your class today?" I ask, desperate for anything normal. "The beginner boxing thing?"
The muscles in his jaw pop.
"Fine. Bunch of kids who've never thrown a real punch."
"Did anyone cry?" I try to tease, remembering the way he smiled at the diner this morning. That smile had come out of nowhere, like sunlight through storm clouds. I want it back more than anything.
He snorts. A little. But doesn't give in.
"Not today."
I laugh anyway, letting it fill the cab for half a second before it dies. He's so tense I can almost see the vibrations coming off him.
This morning, Koda felt different. He watched me in a way that made me feel bright and grown up and something else. Something dangerous and good.
Now he's a vault, and I'm locked out.
I have no idea what to do with the way he makes me feel. I want to crawl into his lap and press my soaking face against his neck. I also want to jump out the window and run away screaming.
Instead, I sit, shivering and radiating awkwardness.
The storm gets worse as we drive, the wind flinging needles of rain against the truck's sides, threatening to rip the doors off. Koda steers through it all with absolute control, like the truck is an extension of his body. We take a left, then a right. Suddenly, my block looms ahead.
Only something isn't right.
The entire street is pitch black. Totally out, like someone erased every bulb and TV and phone charger in a five-mile radius. My apartment complex sits at the end of the block, hulking and dark.
"Oh no," I groan. "I think the power is out."
Koda puts the truck in park and peers through the downpour.
"Yeah. Looks like the whole block's down."
I stare at my apartment building. The reality settles like a cold stone in my stomach. The idea of sitting alone in the dark, listening to wind batter the windows and thunder shake the walls, makes my skin prickle.
"Your dad mentioned you have a roommate,” He says. “Is she there?"
"No. She's in Denver this weekend, visiting her mom. She won't be back until Monday."
Koda doesn't respond. He just throws the truck in reverse, spins the wheel with one powerful arm, and backs away from my dead-end street. Then he guns it, heading back the way we came.
"Koda, what are you doing?"
"I'm not leaving you in an apartment with no electricity during this storm."
"Then where are we going?"
I glance over at him and the expression on his face is unreadable.
"I'm taking you to my cabin,” he says.
My heart pounds in my chest.
"Your cabin?"
"It has a generator and woodstove. You'll be warm and safe. I'll bring you back tomorrow after the power's back on."
The idea of being alone with Koda Wilde in his mountain cabin should terrify me. It does terrify me.
But it also does something else. Something molten and secret, deep in my belly.
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose."
"You're not imposing on me, Charlotte."
He doesn't look at me, but I hear the edge in his voice.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see Dad's name flashing on the screen.
I swipe to answer.
"Hey, Dad."
"Charlotte." His voice crackles with static. "You okay? They're saying Cooper Heights is getting hammered with the worst storm in a decade."
I glance out the window at the sheets of sleet.
"Yeah, it's pretty bad. I'm okay, though."
"You at your apartment? They're reporting power outages all over town."
I hesitate, looking at Koda.
"Actually, no. My car wouldn't start after school, and when I finally got a ride to my apartment, the power was out.”
"Jesus, Charlotte. Where are you now? A hotel?"
"No. I called Koda. He picked me up from school and is letting me stay at his place tonight to ride out the storm."
The silence that follows makes my heart pound. Koda stares straight ahead, but I can see a muscle jumping in his jaw.
"You're with Koda?" Dad's voice softens with relief. "Thank goodness. I was about to get in my truck and drive down there myself."
"No need for that." I force a light tone. "I'm fine, really."
"Put him on speaker," Dad says.
I hit the speaker button and hold the phone between us.
"You're on speaker."
"Koda." Dad's voice fills the cab. "Thanks for looking after my girl. I owe you one, brother."
Koda clears his throat.
"Don't mention it. Couldn't leave her stranded."
"She's in good hands with you. I know that."
The trust in Dad's voice makes guilt twist in my stomach. If he could see the way I keep looking at Koda, the thoughts running through my head...
"You've got power up there on the mountain?" My dad asks.
"Yep, and generator backup if we need it," Koda tells him. "She'll be comfortable."
"Charlotte, you call me tomorrow when the storm clears, alright?’ My dad replies. “Let me know when you get back to your place."
"I will, Dad. Promise." I try to keep my voice steady. "Don't worry about me."
"That's like asking the sun not to rise." Dad laughs. "You two take care of each other. Love you, baby girl."
"Love you too, Dad."
After we hang up, the silence returns. But it's different now, charged with something I can't quite name.
The rest of the drive takes nearly forty minutes.
The further we get from town, the more the storm seems to fold the world in on itself.
Everything disappears except Koda, me, and the glare of headlights on a narrow river of asphalt.
I lose track of the turns as the truck climbs higher, winding between pines that crowd so close together their branches scrape the windows.
By the time we lurch onto Koda's private road, it feels like we're the only people left alive in the county.
Gravel crunches under the tires as we bounce up a long, steep drive. Headlights sweep over the bulk of what has to be his cabin.
Except "cabin" is way too humble a word.
Even in the dark, I can see it's massive with a wraparound porch and big plate-glass windows facing the valley below. A shingled roof angles sharply over the deck, and fat beams hold up a covered carport. It looks like something out of a magazine about lumberjack millionaires.
Koda kills the engine. Then he says, "Stay there. I'll get your door."
Before I can argue, he's already outside, jogging to my side.
He hauls open the passenger door and offers me his hand. For a weird second, I think about refusing, making a dumb point about independence. But I'm so cold and waterlogged and disoriented that I just take it.
The moment I hit the ground, the wind hits hard enough to stagger me sideways.
Koda slips an arm around my waist and keeps it there as we sprint up the path and take the porch steps two at a time. He fumbles a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door. I half-trip through the doorway, blinking water out of my eyes, and freeze on the threshold.
The place is not what I expected. Not even close.
It's huge inside. It’s open-plan and airy, with exposed beams overhead and a stone fireplace taking up most of one wall.
The hearth is stacked with split logs, and a lighter sits ready on the mantle.
The rest of the living room flows into a kitchen with butcher-block counters and a wall of gleaming steel appliances.
There's no clutter. No mismatched furniture. No weird hunting trophies or bear rugs. Just clean lines, lots of wood, and a quiet sense of order.
Koda kicks off his boots, shrugs out of his jacket, and hangs it on a row of hooks by the door.
I copy him, peeling myself out of my soggy layers as best I can without stripping down to my underwear right in his entryway.
The towel from the gym is a sad little rag compared to the amount of water I'm leaking everywhere.
He kneels at the fireplace without a word. I watch the muscles in his back shift under his soaked t-shirt as he stacks logs with practiced precision. Kindling pops, flames catch, and in seconds the room goes from icy gray to a golden, flickering cocoon.
He stands and brushes his hands on his jeans. When he turns to look at me, his eyes trace the outline of my soaked shirt plastered to my skin, the way my hair drips down my shoulders.
"You should get out of those wet clothes," he says.
My face goes hot.
Koda’s eyebrows jump slightly, and he clears his throat. "I mean, before you catch cold.” He gestures for me to follow him.
I trail after him down the hallway, leaving a dotted path of water behind me. The hallway smells faintly of orange peel and aftershave. There are only three doors, and he pushes open the one at the end with his foot.
The bedroom is dark and masculine. A massive bed covered with a storm-gray comforter sits against one wall. There are exposed beams overhead and clean lines everywhere. Koda flips on the lamp. I hover in the doorway, dripping on the hardwood, unsure whether I should step inside or wait in the hall.
Koda crosses to the dresser and yanks open a drawer. He digs through it, shoving things aside, his movements tense and jerky. Finally, he pulls out an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of navy sweatpants with a drawstring. He turns and holds them out to me.
"They'll be big on you," he says, his jaw tight. "But it's the best I've got."
"Thank you." I take the clothes from him, my fingers brushing his for the briefest second. "Um…where will I be sleeping?"
His eyes flick to mine, then away. He runs a hand through his wet hair.
"You take the bed. I'll crash on the couch."
My stomach flips. His bed. The one that smells like him.
"Koda, you've already done so much. I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking."
The words come out clipped and final. He still won't look at me.
"But this is your room. Your house. I can take the couch, or—"
"Charlotte." He turns then, and the look he gives me stops my breath. "Just take the bed."
There's something in his voice. Something strained and barely leashed that makes my pulse hammer in my throat.
I open my mouth to argue, but he's already moving past me toward the door.
"Towels are under the sink,” he says. “I'll be in the living room if you need anything."