Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
CHARLOTTE
“Sissy, please don’t go! Don’t leave me!”
I woke up on a sharp gasp, those words echoing in my head until they faded into a whisper and finally disappeared into nothing.
But just because I couldn’t hear them anymore, or the scared little voice that spoke them, pleading desperately, didn’t mean they weren’t still holding on to me, clutching my chest in a vise grip.
The dream was hanging on, making it hard to breathe as I sat up in bed.
I placed my hand over my thrumming heart, willing the organ to slow down.
I could feel it banging frantically against my palm.
Each inhale made my lungs burn like fire, each beat of my heart felt like a bruising punch to my sternum.
Closing my eyes, I worked to calm my breathing and slow the shivers wracking my body.
Nightmares were a regular occurrence for me.
With the life I’d lived, there were so many nasty, ugly things to invade my mind while I slept, that I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in years.
But this was one of the worst, and it was one I hadn’t had in a really long time.
The sun filtering through the slats in my blinds was a soft pinkish-yellow, alerting me to the fact it was really early, and when I finally glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table, I saw it was barely past six o’clock.
Exhaustion made my body feel heavy, like it was being held down with a weighted blanket, but I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be able to get back to sleep.
Climbing out of the comfort of my big, fluffy bed, I padded across my apartment to the bathroom, the only room in the entire place with a door that offered any privacy.
I started the shower off warm, letting it loosen the muscles in my neck and shoulders that were twisted into knots from that dream, before cranking the handle over to cold in the hopes that chillier temps would wake me up.
I let my long hair air-dry into wild, beachy waves as I lotioned my body, taking extra time to apply a topical ointment that was supposed to speed the fading time of the scars left behind by Greg Cormack.
“Morning, Charlotte,” Ms. Weatherby greeted after whipping her front door open almost as soon as I’d stepped out into the hallway. I felt a tug at my heart as I pictured her sitting beside her front door, just waiting for a chance at some sort of human interaction.
“Hey Ms. W. You’re up early.”
“Don’t get much sleep nowadays. These old bones ache when I sit or stand or lie down. There’s no winnin’. Plus, someone in this building needs to keep an eye out for the welfare of the tenants. I saw a strange car in the parking lot the past few days, and no one but me seems to give a good darn.”
Odds were, that car belonged to someone who’d recently moved in, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I gave her a smile, feeling my face soften as I took her in. “Well, if it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
Her eyes widened behind her Coke-bottle glasses as she pushed the door open wider. “I still have some bacon and oatmeal on the stove from breakfast if you’re hungry. A person shouldn’t skip breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”
While that didn’t sound like the most appetizing combo, I knew where the invitation was coming from, and I decided right then I was going to make more of an effort for Ms. W.
“You know what? That sounds great. And it just so happens, I’m starving.”
The old woman’s face split into a smile that made her skin wrinkle like clothes that had been left in the dryer for several days, and I couldn’t deny that it felt pretty damn good to be the one who put that happiness in her eyes.
“Well then come on in. I’ll make you a plate.”
The oatmeal had been the consistency of glue. The coffee Ms. Weatherby had served was the color and texture of tar, and everything I’d consumed was still sitting like a brick in the pit of my stomach later that day as I left Whiskey Dolls after a particularly grueling rehearsal.
When Layla, Marin, and Sloane, another girl from the club, asked me to hit The Tap Room with them for lunch, I tried bowing out, my stomach revolting at the thought of food, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“So, Mar, how’s the new place?” Layla asked as we took a seat at one of the round tables in the middle of the large room.
If you went to The Tap Room in the evenings, it was guaranteed the place would be packed no matter what day of the week.
It was a tad bit quieter now, during lunch, but there were still a good number of tables that were full, as well as several of the stools around the bar. “You all settled in?”
Marin had been in her new place for a week and a half now, and already there was a noticeable change in her. The bruises had faded, barely visible anymore, but it was her expression and how she carried herself now that stood out the most.
There was a brightness to her that none of us had seen before. The shadows that had once filled her eyes were gone.
“I am,” she replied, her entire face lighting up as she did a little bounce in her chair.
“I finally got all my furniture and spent a small fortune on decorations and kitchen stuff at the home store, but it was totally worth the credit card bill that’ll come at the end of the month.
” She looked to me and smiled big, gratitude shining from her gaze.
“I haven’t lived on my own in so long, it’s a bit of an adjustment, but I love it. ”
I returned her smile, feeling a warmth in my chest that helped a great deal in fighting off the chill left behind from my dream earlier that morning.
“Hey ladies. How’s it going?”
I looked up at Rory Paulson, the owner of the bar.
In all the time I’d lived in Hope Valley, I’d only been to The Tap Room a handful of times, and until recently, I’d never spoken to the raven-haired beauty who ran the place.
That all changed thanks to Hayden. I had my girls at the club, but thanks to my best friend introducing me to her circle of friends, I also had a crew outside of the club that included Rory.
“It’s good. How are things with you?”
“I’ve got no complaints. Well, other than the fact that Zach’s got himself his first-ever girlfriend.” Her complexion lost a bit of its color as she spoke of her son.
“Have you met her yet?” Sloane asked. “Maybe she’s really sweet and you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Not yet. But when I was putting away his laundry last week, I found a box of condoms in his drawer that Cord had bought him.”
I tried my hardest not to laugh at the sour expression on her pretty face. “I’m guessing things didn’t go too well for your husband after that.”
“He got pretty well acquainted with our couch after sleeping on it for three nights. There’s a very real possibility I’ll be locked up in the near future for murdering my husband.”
I couldn’t say I envied her. I’d met their son. They’d adopted the boy a few years back when he was twelve, and to say he’d grown into a handsome teenager was a serious understatement. Something told me this was only the beginning in a very long line of girl drama he’d bring down on his parents.
“Then be sure to put our lunch toward your bail fund for when that happens.”
She took our orders and had just headed to get our drinks when Layla spoke up, her attention focused on something over my shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that the sexy dude from the club?”
My back went straight as all the other girl’s interests piqued. “You mean the dude who only comes in to see Charlotte?”
“Where?” Marin asked, sitting tall in her chair and craning her neck.
“Holy shit,” Layla breathed.
“What?” I asked, unable to keep a lid on my curiosity.
It had been more than a week since my little “Come to Jesus” with Hayden after Dalton had cornered me at the gun store, and I still hadn’t managed to summon the nerve to do something about those stupid feelings that were building inside of me like a volcano on the brink of eruption. “What is it?”
I started to turn around when Sloane’s hand shot out and grabbed mine to stop me. “Don’t look,” she hissed on a whisper, her eyes going big.
“What? Why not?”
“Oh no,” Marin let out an exhale, her face falling like she’d just found out her high school crush was taking some other girl to the prom.
“Just trust me on this,” Sloane insisted. “You don’t want to look over there right now.”
I felt my forehead pucker into a tight frown.
“Well now that you said that, I have to look.” Because that was how curiosity worked.
Unable to help myself, I twisted my neck and looked behind me, and the instant I did, I wished to hell I hadn’t, because what I saw made my stomach sink right to the floor.
Sure enough, Dalton was sitting a few tables away . . . and he wasn’t alone.
I could actually feel the color draining from my face as I watched him lean in toward the woman sitting beside him, his bright white smile shining like a beacon through his dark beard.
Hayden had been right. This absolutely sucked!
She was stunning. Her long chestnut hair hung in a thick curtain of waves down her back, she had a straight nose and sharp cheekbones that most models would envy, and her eyes were lined with a thick fringe of long, dark lashes.
As much as I hated to admit it to myself—and God did I hate it—they looked exceptionally beautiful together. And I instantly hated them both.
I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I saw her grinning lips move as she reached up and tugged at his overly long hair, and it felt like the floor shifted beneath my seat, throwing my whole world off-kilter when he threw his head back, his thick, corded throat moving tantalizingly on a deep, rumbled laugh.
“We can totally get out of here,” Layla insisted. “I’ll get Rory to pack our stuff to go, and we can bail.”
“Yeah. That’s a great idea,” Marin agreed readily. “Let’s do that. Charlotte? What do you say?”
My friends waited for me to answer, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
I was still staring in shock, the blood rushing in my ears, as the woman stood up and headed in the direction of the bathroom, and before I could think better of it, I was on my feet and moving toward Dalton like my feet had a mind of their own.
My tongue had managed to untangle at some point between my table and his. “You move fast, cowboy,” I spat out, my tone dripping with indignation.
He turned those slate eyes in my direction, and there wasn’t a single ounce of surprise in their dark depths. Knowing him, he’d been aware of me the moment I walked into the bar. He just hadn’t cared.
“Charlotte.” His rough, craggy voice rumbling my name in casual greeting lit my body from the inside, which made me even angrier. “You enjoying your lunch?”
“Well, I was. Until I saw you with your new piece only days after you nearly kissed me.”
The corner of his mouth trembled, and I could have sworn he was fighting back a smile. I wasn’t sure if a person’s head could spontaneously explode, but I had the feeling I was about to be the first documented case.
The thick slashes of his brows rose higher on his forehead. “Is that how you remember it goin’ down?”
“That’s how I remember it because that’s how it happened.”
“Hmm. ’Cause I’m pretty sure it was you who almost kissed me before you lost your nerve.”
The aloofness in his tone and the fact that he was basically calling me a coward again made my ire rise to a dangerous level. It felt like my skin was burning from the inside out, and I had no doubt I was bright red from my cheeks all the way down my neck to my chest.
“You may need to go see your doctor, because it’s obvious there’s something very wrong with your memory.”
“Memory’s crystal clear, Thumbelina.”
Gah! He was driving me crazy! “You know, I’m glad I didn’t let myself fall for your shit,” I threw back snidely, officially lost to my anger.
“Thinking I came this close to believing the lies you were feeding me makes me sick. Glad I found out what an asshole you really are before I did something incredibly stupid, like fall for you.”
“Uh . . . everything okay over here?”
At the arrival of the new voice, I spun around and saw the woman who’d been sitting with Dalton had returned from the restroom, and damn it, but she was even more beautiful up close.
She also had killer long legs that put her a few inches over five and a half feet, in other words, a hell of a lot taller than me, so I had to tip my head back in order to make eye contact. Talk about feeling inferior!
“No. Everything’s not okay. You should know, this man is a raging asshole. I don’t know how long you’ve been seeing each other, but just last week, he tried shoving his tongue down my throat.”
“That’s not exactly the way it went down,” Dalton threw in, still the very definition of calm and relaxed while I had a wildfire growing inside of me. “If you’ll remember, you were the one holding on to my shirt like you were trying to fuse us together.”
“Um . . . wow. Okay . . .” The woman blinked in shock.
“That’s so not what happened!” I cried, shooting him a scowl before looking back at his date. “Look, I’m really sorry about the scene. I just thought you deserved to know.”
“Jolie,” Dalton spoke calmly just then, drawing my attention back to him, “meet Charlotte. Charlotte, this is Jolie. My sister.”
Oh shit.