Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Cody
C harlie was, of freaking course, more beautiful now than she ever had been. I’d tried not to look—okay, stare—and so far, she hadn’t caught me. It’d been much easier when she was away. Out of sight, though never out of mind. Certainly not the last few months after reconnecting and catching up as she prepared to come home.
She’d left for college out of state, and I’d seen her at Christmas and sometimes the summers, though usually she was off on some adventure, interning in Portugal or doing a summer semester at sea. She really had been to a million places, and it’d helped me feel justified: I’d let her go because I’d had to.
Granted, I never had any say that she not go, but I never made a grand stand and told her I didn’t just love her, but was in love with her. Wanted her now and later. That version of her and whoever she’d turn out to be.
I’d kept all that stuffed way down, and every time I got a postcard or a rapid-fire e-mail updating me on her amazing adventures, I felt gratified, any sting of longing tempered by the knowledge that she never would’ve been happy staying here.
When she’d called this summer saying her life had fallen apart and she was moving home for a while, that stupid, persistent hope had clawed its way to the surface. And just now, with her humming some awful Miss Mayhem pop song under her breath as she came toward me where I stood by the door, I reminded myself she wouldn’t stay. Not an hour ago, she’d said she was here while she worked out the mess and she’d leave when something better came along. That’d said all I needed to know.
“Thank you so much. I seriously can’t tell you what a relief it is not to be in my parents’ basement or locked into a six-month lease.”
She smiled, the perfect pink lips parting to show off her teeth, her dark eyes pulling me in like always.
Yep. There it was again. The dread of being committed to spending six months here. She’d said this once already when I offered her the side of my duplex I used for seasonal rentals through StayBnB, but still. Why did her not wanting to be here for longer than a second still kick me in the gut?
“Glad you can use it, and stay for however long it works.”
“Me too, and thank you.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Let me know if you need anything—you have my number, or I’m right next door. I’ve got to get going.”
“Big Silverton Friday night?” she asked, a grin on her face.
“Just drinks with some friends at Craic.”
Her brows rose. “Wow. That was not your style back in the day.”
“Well, I wasn’t twenty-one the last time we spent any length of time together in person, so you’re right about that.”
She shoved me, the contact sending little waves of awareness through me. Pathetic.
“No, I mean going out. Being social. We’ve talked on and off for years and you always seemed more like a homebody. Even the last few months, I didn’t realize you were a man about town.”
Ah. Yeah. I was a homebody to some degree, but I also had a life. I hadn’t had much of one beyond school and her, and I hadn’t reported every detail of what I’d developed over the years because… well, because withholding those parts of myself had helped me. It gave me a sense of power over a situation that at one time had nearly destroyed me.
“Well, shocking as it may be, I have a standing Friday guys’ night.” That the guys most faithful to the time were my dad and brother? Irrelevant.
“Okay, well listen. Let me buy you lunch on Sunday? I need tomorrow to settle in and get my mountain legs, but Sunday? Breakfast? Lunch? You choose and let me know what time works.”
Ignoring the rise of anticipation in my chest, I stayed cool and nodded. “Sounds good. I work out first thing but I’m pretty free otherwise.”
“Great.” She beamed at me, twisting my heart in her hand, then reached out for another hug.
The one we’d shared earlier still fresh in my memory, I let her pull me close and returned the gesture. Her hair was shorter than it ever had been but suited her. It fell to just above her shoulders in dark spirals that lightened toward the ends. Her dark brows were perfectly arched over those killer eyes that I swear glittered and had a little laughter in them at all times.
As much as I liked to think I was strong and not still completely charmed by her, the hungry way my body reacted to her nearness told me I was deluding myself. I wanted to be near her, wanted her as much as I ever had.
That thought had me releasing her and stepping back, jamming my hands into my pockets and sliding out the door I’d opened minutes ago into the fresh fall air. “See you Sunday.”
* * *
“That bad?” my brother Mick asked from atop his stool at the end of the long curving bar.
He patted the seat next to him and I slumped onto it, frustratingly worn down by the short time with Charlie.
“Seriously. She engaged or something?” Mick eyed me over the foam of a beer.
“No. And she’s not staying. So there’s nothing to get wound up about.” Crap , I sounded bitter.
“Sure. Yeah. As one of the calmest people I know, this is absolutely you not wound up.”
I ignored his comment and nodded at Kieran, the bartender. “Silver Ridge IPA. Thanks, man.”
“Good choice.”
I cut Mick a look, searching for sarcasm, at which he frowned.
“Brother, you’ve got to get this girl out of your head.”
“She’s nearly thirty.”
He widened his eyes. “Yeah, and so are you. Isn’t it time to move on?” he asked, sipping his beer again.
Thankfully, Kieran bought me time by setting the glass in front of me, perfect golden-brown hue full of promise and an excuse to avoid responding for another minute. I took a drink, savored the bouquet of flavors in the fruity, aromatic beer, and finally felt prepared to deal with this.
“It is time to move on. Absolutely. Which is why that’s what I’m going to do as soon as she bails and heads off on her next quest.”
“Quest?”
“Yes. Quest. She’s searching for something she can’t get around here. I know that as well as she does. I’m going to enjoy hanging out with her, keep my dumpster full of unrequited feelings on lockdown, and wish her and those same feelings farewell when she goes. All lingering questions and back-of-mind hopes addressed by the fact that nearly thirty years wasn’t enough to make it happen for us, that being in the same town wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough.”
Mick nodded slowly, his too-long hair remarkable, same as his ten o’clock shadow. Honestly, he looked run over by a truck, but such was life with an eight-week-old baby. His wife had gone back to work two weeks ago at the local clinic and he’d started his paternity leave which would go through the end of the year. Apparently, taking care of an infant and a two-year-old full-time made you look like hell and made you desperate for a guys’ night out, even if it amounted to a single beer with your brother at the local pub.
“Do you want an honest response to what you just said, or do you want me to say what I’m pretty sure you want me to say?”
My jaw flexed as I clenched my teeth in annoyance, but I took a drink and let the cool liquid wash away the irritation. “What you think I want you to say first, and then your honest response. Get it all out, Mickey.”
He turned on his stool and set one leg on the lower rung of mine. “I think you want me to say it’s a good plan—to hang out with her just like old times, and when it comes to it, say goodbye and move on with your life.”
My nod confirmed this. “Yes. Exactly.”
“My honest response?”
I dipped my chin, nerves tightening in my gut.
“You’re in love with who she used to be, not who she is. Hang out with her, get to know her, and if you still like her—which I’m just here to say in my older brother, Voice of Wisdom tone may not be the case—then kiss her.”
I reared back. “Yeah? That simple?”
He nodded. “Yes. If you still like her, kiss her. Kiss the heck out of her. Then you’ll finally freaking know and can put this to bed. Maybe it’ll be awkward, and you can just move right along on.”
A few months ago, I would’ve agreed. I’d held an idealized version of her and our friendship. But the last few months, we’d genuinely reconnected. We’d talked about everything from the challenge of seeing our parents age to watching our siblings grow into actual humans we liked. We talked about our jobs and what we liked and didn’t. We shared stories from the last few years and things that’d impacted us the most.
We hadn’t shared everything, of course. That’s not how it works out of nowhere. But I got a feel for her. She had fire, but it’d matured. It wasn’t all wild and uncontrolled. Just more directed and passionate, and more appealing than ever. She wasn’t hardened by her worldly experience, but seemed almost softer—more compassionate, empathetic, and desirous of comfort.
The earlier evidence of our hug showed I would be unlikely to feel any contact with Charlie as awkward. Maybe I owed that to our emotional reconnection via messages and occasional calls—certainly made sense that knowing each other a little now swept away the cobwebs of time apart. If our first physical interaction after so many years hadn’t been uncomfortable, I didn’t imagine a kiss would be. And yeah, I’d imagined kissing her a time or two.
If I kissed her, we’d go up in flames. At least I would. Maybe she’d feel weird, and that’d solve all of that. But maybe…
I exhaled a pathetic, windy little breath. “And if it’s not awkward?”
Mick just smirked. “Well, then you’ve got a real problem.”