Chapter 6
six
Charlie
T he guest bed in Ford and Peyton’s house was so comfortable, I slept better than I had in years. Definitely better than the last three months when I’d been living in my car. I probably would’ve slept till noon but the sun had broken through the window, welcoming me home to Clean Slate Ranch.
When I remembered I was wearing Cash’s T-shirt and old basketball shorts, I pulled the shirt up to my nose, hoping it would smell like him. But I only caught a whiff of Tide.
The horizon was a swirl of oranges and pinks, reminding me of a puff of cotton candy. I threw the blankets off and sat up, ready to race to the window to get a better look. I almost screamed when I realized a man was asleep on the floor.
Cash.
And he was shirtless.
His T-shirt balled up a few feet away, covered from the waist down with a sleeping bag.
Good gracious. There were a lot of muscles down there—biceps that flexed even in sleep, sculpted shoulders, an eight-pack that rose and fell with every breath. And so much hair—on his head, stubble dusting his face, and a small tuft in the center of his chest. Oh, and with his arm thrown over his brow, I could see a healthy sprig in that right armpit. If I’d been fifteen, I would’ve tried to braid it just to annoy him.
But twenty-four-year-old me just pressed a hand to my heart. He must’ve snuck up here to make sure I didn’t leave in the middle of the night. My chest warmed at the thought.
I’d hardly been able to look at him last night with him watching me like a hawk. So I took advantage now. His chocolate-colored curls were swept back off his forehead. Gone was any hint of baby fat in his cheeks. Now, he was all perfect cheekbones, strong jawline, and dark lashes that made me envious. I was Jewish and I didn’t have lashes that thick or dark. Not without the blessing of a good mascara.
His full lips were parted slightly, and a tiny bit of drool was creeping out of the corner of his mouth. I watched him breathe, enjoying how peaceful he seemed, his chest slowly rising up and down.
My head snapped around when I heard my mom’s voice float up the stairs. “How could you tell her she could stay here?” she cried. It sounded like Aunt Peyton tried to say something, but Mom talked over her. “She’s our kid. She should be at our house.”
I winced at her pain-filled words.
Cash’s foot kicked under the sleeping bag. They were going to wake him. I tiptoed across the room, stepped onto the landing, and quietly closed the door. Then I padded down, heart thumping, and sat on the third step from the bottom to eavesdrop.
“Honey,” Dad said. “Let Peyton explain.”
There was a muffled sob from Mom and then Aunt Peyton said, “She called from a police station in L.A. The officer said she’d been living in her car.” Mom gasped. Peyton continued, “The only way she would agree to come home is if I let her stay here. And I thought it would be better for her to be here than to disappear again, right?”
I jumped when the door to my room flew open. I looked up to see Cash, eyes wide and panicked, shirt in his fist, his lower half clothed in a pair of black athletic shorts. When he saw me, his shoulders relaxed.
I pressed a finger to my lips and pointed so he’d know something was happening in the foyer. And yeah, I watched as he pulled that shirt over his head, a little disappointed when his spectacular torso disappeared under gray cotton.
He sprang soundlessly down the stairs and sat next to me. “What’s going on?” he whispered, his voice deep and scratchy.
My parents are here, I mouthed.
“I never should’ve written that memoir,” Mom said.
“Yes, you should,” Aunt Peyton countered in a calm tone. “Look how many women you’ve helped.”
“What good is it if I’ve lost my own daughter?” Mom's voice held an ache so deep it made my chest hurt. “She hasn’t been the same since she read it and found out what her sperm donor did to me. I should’ve told her.”
“You didn’t know she was going to read it,” Dad said.
“You’re being too generous,” Mom retorted, sounding disgusted with herself. “She was about to leave for college. Someone else would've told her if she hadn’t read the book. I was being a coward, and now my kid is so traumatized she can’t even look me in the eye.”
“Tal,” Dad said in a hush. “It would’ve traumatized her either way.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“No,” Mom said, determined to take responsibility. “This is my fault.”
My hands pressed against my cheeks. I should get up and go talk to them . But any answer as to why I couldn’t keep eye contact would only wound her more.
“Did she say where she’s been?” Dad asked. “Or why she wouldn’t answer any of our calls?”
Cash’s knee leaned into mine. I looked over and he stared at me, brows lifted. He wanted answers too. I glanced away, resting my head against the wall.
“No,” Aunt Peyton said. “But listen, we’re going to get to the bottom of it. And she’s agreed to go to therapy while she’s here. She just needs some time.”
“Is she planning to leave again?” Dad asked in a hush.
Cash poked me in the side, his worried expression asking the same. I shook my head.
“We don’t know,” Uncle Ford said and I sat up a little taller. I hadn’t known he was out there. “We hope not.”
“And we’re going to encourage her to move home with you just as soon as she’s ready,” Aunt Peyton added. “But for now, you can sleep at night. Your girl is back on the ranch. She’s okay.”
“How much was the plane ticket?” Dad asked. “We’ll reimburse you.”
“C’mon,” Ford said, annoyed. “We’re not doing that. And you’re not paying us rent for her either. Because I know that was your next lamebrain idea.”
Cash and I snickered.
“It had to cost you an arm and a leg to buy a same-day ticket,” Dad growled.
“Ah, snap,” Cash hissed. “It’s a Dupree brother’s pissing contest.”
“Knock it off, you two,” Aunt Peyton said.
Mom laughed, though it sounded wet. “Let us pay for something. ”
Ford started to argue.
Peyton cut him off. “She needs clothes. She got off the plane in a pair of sweats that were for someone my height and that was it. No luggage. Not even a carry-on. Just a small backpack and the guitar that Cash gave her when she turned sixteen.” That guitar had saved me in more ways than one.
Cash bumped my shoulder with his and I gave him a small smile.
“What about that outfit she had on last night?” Mom asked.
“I loaned her the shirt. The jeans and boots were hers from high school. Sorry,” Aunt Peyton said with a tinge of shame. “I snuck in your house after y’all left to go out to dinner before the concert.”
“It’s fine,” Mom said and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Payback for all the times I’ve snuck into your house to eat your fruit when you’re not home.”
“I don’t have time to take her to the mall today,” Aunt Peyton said. “But we’re going to run down to Walmart later.” She said Walmart like she was spitting out a bug that had just flown into her mouth. For a woman who used to pride herself on finding cute outfits at the thrift store, she’d become quite accustomed to wearing luxury brands since marrying Uncle Ford. “Would you like to pay for that?”
“Absolutely,” Mom said.
“Where’s her car?” Dad asked.
I shifted away from Cash, unable to hide my shame.
“Dead,” Aunt Peyton said. “Officer Riley said she was sleeping in a rusted-out 1997 Honda Civic.”
“What?” Uncle Ford asked, clearly the first he’d heard of it. “Where’s her 4Runner?”
“No idea,” Aunt Peyton said. “All I know is the transmission in the Civic was shot and they had it towed to a junkyard.”
“Did she say anything about Lorne?” Dad asked.
I stiffened as Cash’s gaze burned into the side of my head, willing me to answer that question myself.
“That tool better not show his face around here,” Ford snarled. “What kind of piece of —”
“Ford!” Aunt Peyton snapped.
“Well, he is,” he said unapologetically. “Letting her sleep in her car. He’s not taking care of his wife.”
Cash reached over, his thumb tracing over my bare ring finger. That one little touch lit me up in ways Lorne never had. Stomach fluttering, heart pounding, erogenous zones ignited. We stared into each other’s eyes.
“Didn’t you notice she’s not wearing her wedding band?” Peyton huffed. “I swear, men are so unobservant. She kicked that man to the curb. Done and dusted.”
Cash must’ve come to the same conclusion because he pulled my forehead to his. If I thought my reaction to holding his hand was intense, it was nothing compared to having his lips a hair’s breadth away. His thumb brushed over my cheek, leaving it tingling, and even though I had cotton mouth, my body hummed with the overwhelming urge to close the distance.
“I missed you, Charlie,” he murmured. His head tilted to the side.
Just before his lips hit mine, I shot to my feet. “Sorry, I have to…” I backed my way up two stairs. “I have to muck out the stalls for Gramps. I told him I’d be there first thing this morning.” I turned for my room.
“I’ll come with you.” Dang him, his long legs, and all those muscles—he was right on my heels. As soon as the guest room door was shut, he stepped behind me and wrapped his strong arms around my hips, pulling my back tight against his chest. I froze, looking down at his forearms. His nose nudged the space just behind my right ear and goosebumps sprang up across my skin. Everything in me screamed to cave to this.
But I couldn’t.
I whirled, pressing my palms against his pecs to keep him at bay. “Cash, I need you to give me a little space.”
His face fell and his arms dropped to his side. “Oh. Okay.” His Adam’s apple dipped. “Sorry. I just…”
I put my hand on his forearm and looked up into his sky-blue eyes. “The thing is…” I glanced away, wishing I didn’t have to say these words, but there was no way around them. “I’m…still married.”
The whoosh of air he released sounded like I’d taken a baseball bat to his lungs. I made myself stop being a coward and look at him.
His eyes turned down, so dejected. “No. It’s not supposed to go like this.” He jabbed a finger toward the ground. “Addie specifically said my miracle would be you coming home this week— not married—and you did.” He looked so confused.
I know I definitely was. “What’re you talking about?”
“My sister prayed for you to come home. This week. And you’re here,” he repeated. His hands thrust toward me. “Right here.” There was a pucker between his brows and his lips moved, talking to himself—but I couldn’t make out the words. After a few seconds, his fingers locked together at the nape of his neck. “You’re married?” he asked again like he hoped my answer had changed in the past five seconds. And like I’d stabbed him straight in the heart, coming home still hitched.
“Oh, Cash, no.” My hands flailed. “Not like that. I don’t want to be married anymore.”
He sank down with relief. His eyes turned bright, and he reached for me.
I took a large step away from him. “I need you to stop touching me, okay? And no more sleeping on my floor.”
The hurt was back.
“I missed you too.” My head tilted to the side, willing him to understand. “But I am married. Whether I want to be or not.”
He folded his arms like he was putting himself in check. “If you don’t want to be married, then why are you?”
“Because divorce is expensive and I’m super broke.”
His expression softened. “Uncle Holden will help you. Pro bono, probably.” That’s what I was counting on. “And I’m making money now. My single’s doing really well. So I’ll pay for it if he won’t do it.”
My heart tried to melt on the spot. “I’m not taking your money. I’ll figure it out. But there’s another reason I haven’t moved forward with the divorce.”
He stared at me, brow furrowed.
“I don’t…know…where Lorne is. I haven’t seen him in a year.”
A muscle in his jaw pulsed. “And you can’t divorce him if you don’t know where he is?”
“I have no idea. I figured I’d find out once I had the money to move forward. But my guess is it will slow things down, yes.”
“I’ll wait.” He nodded. “However long it takes. My dad waited fourteen years for my mom.”
My face burst into flame. No one—not a single guy I’d ever dated—had looked at me the way he was right now. Or talked about their feelings for me so openly, as if they were simply a fact.
I spun on my heel and paced away. “I…I don’t know if that’s what I want.”
“You don’t w-want me?” His voice cracked, like I’d kidney punched him. Doubtless, he’d never been rejected by a girl in his entire life. There was probably a Date Cash Dupree Wait List.
I turned to face him, my cheeks smarting. “I don’t know what I want. I just need some…time. To figure myself out.” I put my hands on my hips. “Can you just be my friend right now?”
He stared at me with a blank expression, and I could almost hear his brain malfunctioning: Cannot compute! Cannot compute! “ Friend ?” he said like I’d just spoken a foreign language. “Did you seriously just friend-zone me?”
“Best friends?” I offered as if this was some kind of conciliatory prize. “We can still hang out. All the time. Just no…touching.” I really needed him to not touch me.
“Like no touching? At all? Not even hugs?”
Yeah, I’d unintentionally messed with his head last night, letting him hold me in the van.
“I just…” I chewed my lip into a twist. “We’re living under the same roof. It’ll be less confusing for everyone if we’re not being handsy. Just like when we were in high school.”
He let out a disbelieving laugh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. Okay. I guess.” His brow furrowed and I could see it was the last thing he wanted. But then he said, “This’ll be good,” like he was trying to convince himself. “We can build a solid foundation and when you’re single, we can jump in with both feet.” He winked. “Get ready, it’s gonna be a whirlwind romance.”
I just stared at him. There was no doubt in his mind we’d end up together. None. I shouldn’t let him hope. It would only hurt him more in the long run. But I owed him…my life.
“You are something else,” I said.
He unleashed his trademark, cocky grin—the one that girls posted all over TikTok with captions like ‘That smile is the reason my standards are higher than my rent.’ Geez. He wielded that thing like a weapon. Probably practiced in the mirror the same way my dad and uncles practiced their sharp-shooter skills at Ford’s shooting range.
I rolled my eyes but laughed. “Well, one thing hasn’t changed. You have just as much ego as ever.”
He tossed his chin up. “Admit it. You think my cocky’s sexy.”
My eyes rolled even harder. “Only you would be arrogant enough to say something like that after being friend-zoned.” I propped my hands on my hips, all the teasing suddenly gone as that frustrating smolder returned. “We need to get one thing straight. I’m nobody’s miracle.”
The way he looked at me made my skin burn, like I was something sacred—something he’d lay down his life for without hesitation. “You’re wrong, Char-lie.” he exhaled my name, soft and broken. “And I’m going to prove it.”