Chapter 18
eighteen
Cash
I sat on the back deck after everyone was asleep, guitar in my lap, my gut still in a twist from earlier. Not even the bullfrogs croaking by the lake or the fireflies dancing in the grass could calm me. I wanted to ask Charlie about what happened in the pool. About cutting herself and why she thought I wouldn’t want her. And about the kiss. But I was terrified of her response. Didn’t want to hear her reject me verbally, the way she had nonverbally both times I kissed her.
She’d been super quiet at dinner, offering nothing in the way of conversation, only pushing food around her plate. Ever since she got here, she’d inhaled her food like she thought it might be her last meal. Her lack of appetite tonight couldn’t be a good sign. So yeah, the scared half of me kept winning out.
I tapped on my iPad, staring at my composition software, trying to figure out why I ever thought I should put a G chord in this spot. Actually, I hated this entire song right now.
The sliding door opened, bringing my head up. Charlie walked out carrying her guitar. The one I gave her when she turned sixteen.
She smiled. “Hey.”
I straightened. “Hey.”
She sat down in the adjacent Adirondack chair, like every other night. “I wrote you a song. Wanna hear it?”
I couldn’t tell from her tone or expression if it was a happy song or one that was going to break my heart. “Sure. I’d like that.” I started to put my guitar in its case but she held out a hand to stop me.
“It’s a duet. I’ll lead. You back me up?”
“Sure.”
She offered me a piece of sheet music she’d handwritten. I didn’t look at it, too afraid to read the words. Something about her expression and the way she was sitting, careful and guarded, told me exactly what this was.
I made sure not to look more than a measure ahead, trying to prolong the devastation that was headed my way, still hanging onto hope that I was reading her wrong. I didn’t even try to start strong. I couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to. Her voice was steady and clear while mine was barely above a whisper.
You’ve always been my solid ground,
The one who pulls me back when I spin out.
Late-night drives, just killing time,
Singing too loud to songs we don’t know right.
All right. So far, so good.
But then we hit the lead up to the chorus.
And I don’t say it, but I hope you see,
Some things are meant to stay easy.
There it was.
Easy? This had never been easy for me. Not really.
I wanted to do anything but sing this song with her. Literally anything. Stick toothpicks in my eyelids, wrestle a rabid raccoon, eat a ghost pepper and follow it down with a gallon of expired milk. But I kept singing. Because I’m Cash Dupree and that’s what I do.
Right where you are, side by side,
Laughing at jokes till we both start to cry.
No need to change, no need to chase it,
Some love is best when you don’t have to name it.
Dang. This was really good. How long had she been writing?
I hated that I was just learning this about her during a breakup song she’d written for me. But still, stupidly, I held on to a glimmer of hope.
You’re my safe place, my solid ground,
But if you’re hoping for more, don’t wait around…
Charlie moved on but my eyes were stuck on that last line, the air leaking from my lungs like a tire that had run over a rusty nail. I read that line over and over, my fingers refusing to play another chord.
“C’mon, Cash,” Charlie laughed nervously. “Don’t you like my song?”
I looked at her, heat rising in my cheeks. “No. I don’t. I can’t believe you made me sing it.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’ll thank me in the long run.”
We were no longer talking about the song. That was clear. Because no way would I thank her for the last forty-five seconds of torture.
“No. I won’t.”
She watched as I stood, put my guitar in its case, grabbed my iPad, and turned for the house.
She grabbed my pocket, pulling me to a stop. “Cash. You don’t love me. You just love the chase. As soon as you got me, you’d realize I wasn’t that great and wonder why you wasted so much time running after me.”
My molars ground together and my face boiled. “Is that what you think? That you’re just some childhood obsession I need to get over?”
“Aren’t I?”
“No,” I ground out. “I could’ve moved on. A long time ago. I had a hundred girls who wanted me to move on with them in college.” She stared up at me, saying nothing—not teasing me about being cocky. “But I never let myself, just in case you came back and decided you wanted me. I know you just got out of a bad marriage and you need time to heal or whatever. I just wanted to be the one you turned to. I’ll wait if you need me to.” I hated myself for saying it. I was groveling and it was pathetic.
“Don’t.” She chewed her lip. “Don’t wait for me. I’m…” She stared at the center of my chest. “I don’t feel that way about you and I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
I swayed on my feet, like my body was reacting before my brain could catch up. Those were the words I’d never wanted to hear. And they were done. Never to be taken back. It felt like she’d reached into my chest and yanked something vital out, leaving nothing but an empty space where hope used to be.
“But you kissed me back,” I said stupidly, saving no face. “Today and in Hawaii.”
“You’re a good kisser. That’s all.” Her words were hollow and robotic, with no emotion behind them. Matching exactly how she felt about me. But then her eyes lifted to mine and she looked scared. “I told you I need you to be my friend. I don’t want to lose that. Can we please go back to that place?”
I gaped at her. Still processing. It might take a few days to wrap my head around this. But I didn’t need another second to know the answer to her question.
“Sorry, Charlie, but I can’t be just your friend anymore.”