Chapter 16
Liam
Learning to Fly – Tom Petty
Iknew she hadn’t got herself an Uber, it was written all over her face. The way she was fumbling with her phone while she tried to placate her friend. The look of disappointment when I’d waved at her earlier. Disappointment and pride were preventing her from asking for my help.
“I should go with her.” Her friend, who I recognized as Rose, the town vet, grabbed her jacket and purse.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “Let me. I took Faith to Mrs. Rodriguez’s with her.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good id—” Her concerned gaze wandered to the door.
“It’s fine,” I protested, already moving. “I’ve got this.” Without further explanation, I headed to the parking lot, hoping Charity would still be there.
When I pushed outside, the cold air rolling down from the mountains smacked me in the face with a sting. Instantly I saw her, head down as her thumbs flicked over the screen and I had to second guess my choice of following her into the parking lot.
“Charity.” Her name sounded desperate in the stillness. “Can you stop? Chasing women, it’s not my style.”
“So don’t bother.” Whipping her head around, her despondent blue eyes met mine, and the silence cracked like lightning between us.
“Let me help you.”
“I can’t get an Uber,” she finally admitted, defeated.
“You don’t need one.” Moving to her, I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward my truck. “I said I’d help, so let me help.”
“Liam, it’s fine. I can call my dad, or something.”
“We both know that isn’t going to happen, so get in my truck. You don’t need to keep dealing on your own.”
“Liam, I don’t need rescuing!”
“Fine.” I took a step back. “I won’t.”
I let it settle for a beat until she drew in a ragged breath and her shoulders sagged in defeat. Enough was enough and I took her hand in mine.
As I pulled her to follow me, she tried to anchor herself to the spot, but I wasn’t leaving without her. Thankfully she began to move with me because I wasn’t averse to throwing her over my shoulder if I had to.
“Charity, get in the truck,” I warned, beeping the lock and swinging open the passenger door. “Get in. We’ll go to Mrs. Rodriguez’s first.”
“Shouldn’t we just start searching?”
“Nope.” I reached across and clicked her safety belt in place, looking directly into her eyes. “We’ll check her room. She might have left something behind that gives us a clue as to where she’s gone.”
Sinking back into the seat, she sighed and with the knowledge that she was going to let me help, I moved around the front of the truck ready to take my place next to her.
“And she didn't even hint that she was leaving?” Charity asked, all the while twisting a strand of one of her loose waves around her finger. I shoved my hands into my pockets to stop myself from replacing her finger with my own.
“No, nothing.” While her tone held concern, Mrs. Rodriguez's expression was one of calm. This wasn’t her first rodeo where a disappearing woman was concerned.
“We should check her room,” I suggested, aware that Charity looked like she might be about to run and grab my truck and go.
“It’s the one at the top of the stairs, overlooking the back yard.”
Charity took the stairs two at a time, with me closely following. When I reached Faith’s room she was already throwing drawers open, feeling inside them for any hidden clue.
I checked the closet but there was nothing in there, not that she’d had much to begin with. The bed was neatly made with the comforter smoothed out and throw pillows arranged—the nightstand was clear.
Charity stood in the middle of the room and turned full circle, hands on hips. She stopped turning, and simultaneously, we both spotted the small wicker trash basket. Our gazes met.
I reached for it and tipped the contents out onto the bed.
“Seems your sister had a thing for Snickers.” There had to be seven or eight wrappers, and she’d only been there a couple of days. Fishing through the debris seemed pointless, until I found a screwed-up piece of paper.
“What is it?” Charity asked, peering closer as I smoothed it out. Written in neat, round handwriting: 4B, 3328 Dixon St, TX 75241.
She was quiet for a moment, processing. “Dallas address.” Then she looked up at my face and her expression shifted. “What aren't you telling me?”
I hated that she could read me so easily. And I hated even more that I recognized that zip code. “It's not a good area.”
Her jaw tightened. “How bad?”
“I worked construction there for a while after college. Bad enough.”
She went very still, but I could see her hands trembling as she folded the paper, and when she looked up, her eyes had that glassy look people get right before they break.
I pulled her into my arms, wrapping her closely against me.
Her scent, her warmth, set every nerve ending alive and it took everything not to move my lips to hers.
Not to inch my mouth closer and find out how soft her lips were. How sweet she tasted.
“Why would she do this?” Charity finally spoke, her fingers gripping my shirt at my waist, her forehead resting against my chest, against my thudding heart.
Aware of how close we were. How intimate it felt, I slowly unwrapped myself from her and placed steadying hands on her shoulders. “Do you want to go and find her?”
Watery blue eyes looked up at me and my heart felt like a huge fault line cracked right through the middle of it. When her bottom lip trembled and she nodded, it cracked some more.
“I have to go,” she whispered. “Tonight. I can't wait until morning, not knowing she's out there. Alone.”
It had been too long since I’d felt this kind of attraction to a woman.
One night hook-ups didn’t count. Sexual attraction was a means to an end.
This was fucking scary. Yet I couldn’t seem to stop from putting myself in her space and offering to help her.
The desperation in her voice made my decision for me, even though every rational part of my brain was screaming warnings.
“I’ll go with you to Dallas.”
A small gasp puffed from her mouth, and her eyes went wide. Clearly as surprised as I was at my suggestion, she stepped back, shaking her head.
“No, Liam. I can't ask that of you. I need to go, but you don’t. It’s not necessary for you to waste any more time on me or Faith.”
“I'm not arguing with you, Charity, and you didn't ask. I offered.” Taking my phone from my pocket, I sent off a message to Cole with a quick explanation and asking him to check in with James.
“We probably need to grab a bag for a couple of days, so I'll drop you back home and then come back for you once I've sorted a couple of things.”
“Honestly, Liam, I can go first thing in the morning. I have the address, so I know where to find her.”
Fear iced through me, sending a shiver down my spine. “I was kind of understating it when I said it wasn’t a nice area,” I warned. “It’s not a good place, and I won’t have you going there alone.”
“I can take care of myself. I did self-defense classes last year.”
The determined little jut of her chin made me smile.
“I’ve no doubt you could land as good a punch as anyone if you wanted to, Charity, but the people who hang around there rely on something more than springing you from behind.”
“Fine,” she said finally, the word coming out like it cost her. “But I’m paying for gas and the motel.”
“Charity—”
“Those are my terms, Liam. Take them, or I leave without you.”
“Fine,” I said, breathing out, even though there was no way I was allowing her to pay for any of it. “I don’t want to be worried about two Dawson girls out there.”
Movement at the door caught my eye and I turned. Mrs. Rodriguez was standing at the doorway, watching us before she stepped inside the room. “Have you found something?”
“An address in Dallas.”
“And you’re going with Charity to try and find her.
” She didn’t ask. She knew me. “I asked Macie, one of the few girls that Faith spoke to here. She said Faith mentioned a friend who worked in a bar where there were some waitress jobs available.” She shrugged and gave us a tight smile.
“No name or bar name, so it’s not much, I’m sorry. But it’s something.”
“It is, thank you.” Charity’s sigh was weighted, lingering in the air as we all took a beat.
“How could she even afford to get to Dallas? She didn't have any money when I brought her here.” Charity’s thought was barely articulated before the penny dropped and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Mrs. Rodriguez, did she take anything from your house?”
Mrs. Rodriguez paused, before admitting, “Some cash I kept in the kitchen drawer. About two hundred dollars.”
Charity's face crumpled. “I'm so sorry. I'll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. It happens.” It was sad how matter of fact Mrs. Rodriguez sounded. “That's why I don’t keep more in the house.”
“I can transfer it now.”
“Charity, please don’t worry about it.” Mrs. Rodriguez turned to me. “Why don’t you take her home and get a good night’s sleep.”
I shook my head. “No, we’re going to get on the road tonight.”
“Really?” Mrs. Rodriguez shook her head. “It’s getting late, Liam, and you shouldn’t drive tired.”
It was only a little after seven. I knew we could get at least four or five hours’ drive time under our belt before I needed to sleep.
Charity twisted her fingers together, something I already knew was her anxiety tell. There would be no way she’d wait until the morning.
“We’ll be okay,” I told the older woman. “I know a motel about four hours from here.”
Mrs. Rodriguez’s gray eyes sparkled as she looked between us. When the silence reached awkward, she hitched up the waist of her jeans and gave a slow shake of her head.
“Okay, if you’re decided, you’re decided. Just give me a minute and I’ll grab the numbers of a couple of women’s hostels there. You never know, she might just go there.”
As she disappeared, Charity’s resolve did, too. Listening to her stifled sobs, I knew I’d do anything to ensure she didn’t have to worry about her sister for much longer.
I’d thought at Mrs. Rodriguez’s place that Charity was happy with us going to Dallas together.
Compliant in the knowledge that it was too dangerous for her to go alone.
Yet the atmosphere inside my truck felt as taut as a piece of string attached to a lead weight.
The only sound in the truck cab was the hum of tires on the blacktop keeping time with her restrained breaths.
In the hour since I’d picked her and her overnight bag up, she’d barely said two words as she’d sat rigid, pressed close to the door. Her gaze didn’t waver from the road ahead while her fingers twisted the tie of the hoodie she was now wearing.
It felt like if someone didn’t say something soon then there’d be an explosion of tension blowing us into the earth’s orbit.
“Aside from the obvious, are you okay?”
It took her a moment before she cleared her throat. “I don’t want you to feel you have to keep coming to my rescue all the time.” I sensed her stiffen in her seat. “We’re barely friends really. You know, if we’re being truthful.”
The lights of a car coming toward us shone into the truck, when I glanced at Charity I could see her biting on her bottom lip.
“Maybe we weren’t,” I said truthfully. “But I think we are now because whether you like it or now, you matter to me.”
My throat became inexplicably dry at the words. I’d been so closed off for so long, it was like I’d forgotten how to be a friend. For people to matter. Yet somehow with her, it had come naturally. As easy as breathing.
“Really?”
“Yeah you do.” I wanted to say more, so swallowed to try and ease the words out gently. To make them feel smaller, but I couldn’t so let the silence fall again.
“I could have gone alone, you know.” Charity eventually said, as we drove into darkness.
My scalp prickled with annoyance and fear. “Nope. You’re not doing this alone.’
“Clearly.”
There was sass to her mumbled response, and it made my lips twitch into a smile.
“Listen, Charity, we’ve got at least three hours in this truck tonight, and even longer tomorrow, so why don’t we at least try and make the best of it.”
She scoffed. “I’m not a great passenger, Liam. I get bored easily.”
The leather squeaked as she shuffled around, finally getting comfy. My grip on the steering wheel loosened.
“I have candy in the glove box,” I told her. “And you can be DJ if that will help the boredom.”
“I can?” Her seat bounced as she shifted unexpectedly. “Oh, my goodness, you’re going to love Taylor Swift by the time we get to Dallas. We can go through each album chronologically.”
Somehow I doubted it. Somehow I had a feeling I might hate her, but who was I to argue?
Yet three and a half hours later when we pulled into the motel parking lot, I was beginning to think Taylor might just be the greatest poet that ever lived.