Chapter 3
CHARLIE
If anyone had told Charlie that his week was going to take a dramatic turn for the better, he’d have laughed and told them not likely.
Charlie wasn’t a grumpy person by any stretch of the imagination; really, he wasn’t.
In fact, most people who knew him at work would agree that he was one of the more friendly engineers they’d met.
Most of the others he worked with survived mostly off of snark, copious amounts of caffeine, and junk food hidden in the cave dwellings they called their cubicles.
But this hadn’t been a normal week for Charlie, and it also hadn’t helped that his day at work had been more stressful than usual. He’d been gone for the first few days of the week for a conference and had returned to a pile of cases waiting for him to handle.
Tick, tick, tick.
His gaze shifted back to the clock hanging above his office door. The metallic silver of it captured the light pouring in from the window behind him.
It had been one of the few perks that he’d been given when he’d temporarily taken on the manager role, but he feared it would be a more permanent installation if he kept avoiding the other managers.
It was flattering that they’d wanted him for the position, but their persistence was starting to become annoying, considering that he’d already turned it down twice already.
Managing computers and the data lab, that was one thing—but managing an entire team of people? No, thanks. Charlie was much more comfortable with the silence and peace that being in the lab brought him.
Computers, he understood. Data towers, piece of cake.
It was like an intricate puzzle each time a case floated his way.
A lot of people might not agree, but things were simple.
Codes, trial and error, simple math. Things Charlie could put together.
He was not a creative kind of guy, unlike his best friend who was on the complete opposite end of that spectrum in every way imaginable.
An image of her flaming strawberry-kissed hair fluttering around her face came to his mind, and he struggled not to smile.
In reality, he normally never watched the clock so carefully. He liked his work, but he was ready to leave. He’d been counting down the time—essentially since the moment he’d walked in the door that morning—until he got to see her. And he was impatient for it.
Tick, tick, tick.
Three, two, one. Shift over.
Charlie practically threw his belongings into his bag in hopes he could leave before anyone tried to talk to him.
The other unspoken perk of having his own office was that he could easily sneak out.
Being the height and stature he was, it had always made it difficult to navigate.
Gone were the days when he would have to shimmy out of a cubicle, issuing an apology to his neighbor when he’d once again bumped into their cubicle on his way out.
He gave a curt wave to a few coworkers lingering near a water cooler in the back, sauntering quickly to the elevator before any of them tried to call him over to chat. Normally, he wouldn’t think twice about going over and making conversation, but he needed out.
A relieved sigh hissed between his lips as the elevator doors closed behind him, looking at his reflection in the shiny metallic surface. The graphic tee and jeans he had on wouldn’t be a problem where he was going, thankfully, so he didn’t need to worry about going home to change first.
The bite of the upcoming change in seasons hit him as he walked outside into the parking lot, a chill in the breeze that hinted at the lingering coolness of the preceding months.
Charlie despised the reminder. Always had, always would, and if that made him seem like a grump, he didn’t particularly care.
While most people were really settling into the season—enjoying the last hints of winter that blended into milder spring temperatures—it had never brought on happy memories for him.
And it certainly didn’t help that it wasn’t too long before—
Charlie’s phone rang out from his pocket. He continued on the path toward his car but answered the call anyway, seeing the familiar caller ID flashing on the screen.
“What do you want, Peter?” he huffed.
A scoff on the other end. “Why is that the first thing you say to me? No ‘Hey, big brother, it’s nice to hear from you.’”
Peter always had a knack for calling him at the absolute worst times. Today was no exception, but he knew this wasn’t just a casual check-in.
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Okay. Hey, big brother, I just talked to you yesterday, and nothing has changed since then. Better?”
“I know I just—”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” Charlie interrupted. “If Mom insists on forcing participation, I’m not going at all.”
The bigger reason why Charlie’s week hadn’t exactly been pleasant.
He rarely fought with his family, particularly his mother, who he adored more than anything.
However, he had his boundaries, too. He was allowed to lay them out just like everyone else, and she was crossing a major one with her request.
“She said if any of us brought a date, she wouldn’t force us to do it. She’s not cruel; she just doesn’t have a lot of volunteers for that part of the auction,” Peter said, the warm depth of his voice more high pitched than normal—likely nervous that he wouldn’t change Charlie’s mind.
Charlie shrugged as he opened his car door, the dark-blue SUV he’d had since he was a teenager, and threw his bag into the passenger seat. “Well, all three of us aren’t dating anyone that I know of, so that seems highly unlikely.”
Peter sighed in a way that Charlie could practically see him rubbing his temples, like he always would when he was stressed. “I could care less whether you do the auction at all; really, I don’t. But you can’t not come at all.”
The phone call switched over to the speaker system as Charlie started up the car. Anything to distract the thoughts already threatening to rise to the surface. “I don’t have to be there, you know. It’s not like it would be the end of the world.”
“True, but you know how much it would devastate Mom and Dad if you don’t,” Peter stated. Charlie rubbed a hand through the rough stubble of his beard, the feel of its scratchiness against his hand helping to ground him.
He hated that his brother was right but grumbled anyway. “You’re almost as good at guilt tripping as Mom is, but the answer is still no.”
“Is it worth breaking her heart over?” Peter asked.
Charlie’s eyes met with his own in the rearview mirror, the depths of blue that normally looked so vivid now appearing dull, almost discolored in the current lighting. Right on point with how he felt with that jab.
He knew it would. It always would when it came to this. He just seemed to be the only one in the family who didn’t feel like throwing a fucking party on arguably the worst day of the year. Charlie’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, causing his knuckles to turn white.
“You know… you can always talk to me,” Peter continued when Charlie didn’t say anything. “This time of year is, well… it’s tough for all of us. But you know you can—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Charlie said quickly, not eager to enter this rabbit hole again. “Now, I gotta go. I have somewhere to be.”
“Oh?” Peter asked, sounding intrigued all of a sudden. “What are you and Sam up to tonight?”
Charlie’s body heated at the name, but another eye roll felt inevitable. His hands released their death grip from the steering wheel.
“Dinner. Now, go bother our other brother if you have nothing better to do. I’ll think about it, alright?” he snapped, tapping to end the call before Peter could protest.
Stopped now at a red light, Charlie took a moment and closed his eyes. Yeah, his week could’ve been better. But at least he knew that it was about to get at least a fraction better.