Chapter Seven
CHARLIE
The bar door slammed, rattling the frame and the bell that was barely clinging to life above it.
Through the warped glass, I caught Dig—Tally’s pint-sized sidekick—planting himself in the window like a Broadway villain, both middle fingers raised in a curtain-call flourish.
His grin was wide and feral, the kind that comes from equal parts drama club training and a lifelong commitment to petty vengeance.
Tally appeared behind him, catching his arm and hauling him back with a sharp tug. She lingered for a beat, long enough for our eyes to catch through the glass.
Her face wasn’t furious anymore. The anger had drained out, leaving only a hint of sadness in its place. Or disappointment—like I’d confirmed something she’d already suspected.
I looked away first. I didn’t know who she’d been hoping for, but last night I’d shown her exactly who I was, even if that wasn’t the man I wanted to be.
I wiped the same stretch of bar three times, even though there wasn’t so much as a ring on it. My shoulders itched with the weight of Magnolia’s silence.
She didn’t say anything right away, which was worse than yelling. That meant she was working it up, letting it marinate. And sure enough, after a beat, she settled onto the stool behind me, that pointed quiet of hers like the cocking of a gun.
I heard the subtle clink of ice against glass—her cocktail, untouched since she’d mixed it. She exhaled, long and theatrical, like she was centering herself before she took aim.
“You wanna tell me what that was?” Magnolia’s twang was syrupy sweet, but there was enough bite in it to draw blood.
I didn’t turn around. “Not sure what you mean.”
“Charlie,” she said, drawing my name out like a warning. “You ran her off.”
“She didn’t exactly tiptoe in here with a warm plate of cookies,” I muttered.
“Last night she’s jimmying the lock at Cheese, Please!
, then she keels over and has to be hauled off to the ER.
Now she’s showing up like she’s been part of this circle all along.
I’m just—” I finally faced Magnolia, hands spread.
“I’m trying to figure her out. That’s all. ”
Magnolia scoffed behind me. “So your instinct was to humiliate her? Classy.”
I finally turned around. She was already watching me like she knew every excuse I was about to offer and already didn’t buy a single one.
“Am I supposed to braid friendship bracelets with her?” I was getting worked up, but I didn’t back off. “You saw her. Did you see the way she looked at me? And clearly something’s up, or else Doyle, who I’ve known for ten years, would have introduced us to her right off the bat.”
Magnolia’s brow arched. “And that gives you permission to act like a jackass?”
“It gives me a reason to be cautious,” I said, my voice dropping. “You didn’t see her last night. She was out of it. Shaking. Barely conscious. And now she’s suddenly showing up here with some loud theater kid who keeps calling her his baby momma?”
“You mean Dig? The sweet one with the nice shoes and an alarming obsession with reality TV?” She shot me a look. “Yeah, really dangerous.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. She had a point, but I wasn’t ready to admit it.
She stood and walked past me, fingers trailing along the bartop.
“Doyle’s the one who should be explaining things,” she said, her voice lower now, more tired than angry.
“But until he does, maybe try not being the worst version of yourself just because someone walks through the door and doesn’t fit your idea of how things should go. ”
She moved with an easy sway, the click of her boots echoing across the floorboards. The air still carried that familiar mix of citrus cleaner and old wood—stinging, grounding, unmistakably O’Malley’s.
Unmistakably Magnolia.
She was my anchor. The reason I showed up, stayed steady, kept my head down, and handled what needed handling. I was her keeper. Always had been. And getting pulled into someone else’s chaos, especially Tally’s, couldn’t happen.
Magnolia let the silence stretch, then added, “She’s a mess, Charlie. But so are the rest of us.”
“Heyo!” Lee’s voice landed loud and unapologetic as he swung through the back entrance, boots thudding across the floor.
His guitar was strapped across his back, same as always, and he looked freshly showered, annoyingly energized, and like he hadn’t walked into the middle of a situation he was bound to make worse.
Magnolia didn’t respond; she gave me a pointed glance before turning her back to him and grabbing a rag off the counter.
Lee slowed, taking in the tension in the room. “Okay. What did I walk into?”
Sutton followed behind him, arms full of cooking magazines and a sweating iced coffee that was threatening to slip right out of her hand. She didn’t speak either; she looked at the three of us like she’d walked into the wrong room at a family reunion.
I didn’t offer an answer. I let everyone shuffle around and quietly hoped one of them would change the subject.
Sutton usually had an unhinged tale to share from whatever event she’d catered that day.
And Lee always had some story that spun way off course and took the attention with it.
Or, if the universe felt like cutting me a break, he’d finally blurt out how he really felt about Magnolia, and they could spend the next hour arguing about whether she should marry him or his brother.
Literally anything else. Anything but sitting there, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole.
Because the truth was, I’d been a dick. And worse, I didn’t even know what I was trying to prove.
I saw her last night—barely upright, clearly terrified, holding it together by a thread.
Then today, I treated her like she didn’t belong.
Like I had some authority over who was allowed into this circle.
I hated that. It didn’t feel like me. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.
Still, there was a pull to her I couldn’t shake.
The way she looked at me was like she was bracing for impact, already convinced I wasn’t worth trusting, and I’d proven her right.
Those eyes saw too much and gave nothing back.
It bothered me. I didn’t know what she was searching for, but I knew I’d only made it harder for her to find it.
“Uh, hello?” Sutton waved a hand in front of my face. I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at the wall. “Are you brooding? Lee—he’s brooding.”
Magnolia didn’t even look up from the cooler she was restocking, but I caught the rise and fall of her shoulders in a quiet chuckle.
“Oh, he’s broody and moody, all right. Scared off Doyle’s sister like she’d wandered into a damn ambush.
She barely set foot in Savannah before he made her feel like a dog begging for scraps. ”
Lee let out a low whistle. “Damn, man. That’s twice now. Are you planning on running off every woman who accidentally makes eye contact with you, or just the really cute ones?”
I muttered, dragging a hand down my face, “I didn’t run her off.”
“You think she’s cute?” Magnolia asked, popping up from behind the beer chest.
Lee laughed. “She’s adorable, Maggie. Does that make you mad?”
Magnolia didn’t say a word. She threw her hands toward the ceiling like she was hoping the universe might beam her out of the conversation entirely. I was genuinely hoping for the same to happen to me.
Sutton squirmed in her seat, her iced coffee puddle stretching across the bar.
At least it gave me something to wipe up.
“Okay, but like… did we get any good gossip out of her? What’s she really doing here?
And are Jordan and Doyle actually that perfect, or do they lock themselves in the penthouse at night and bathe in salmon sperm to keep that youthful glow? ”
Everyone turned slowly to look at her.
“What?” Sutton blinked, all innocence. “It’s all over the internet. It’s the new fountain of youth.”
Lee choked on his beer. Magnolia blinked like she was reconsidering every life choice that had led her here. I stared at Sutton, completely unamused.
“You scare me,” I said.
“Rightfully so,” she replied, taking a slow sip of her coffee.
Lee lifted his hand like he was about to make a toast. “Well, this isn’t exactly gossip, but I heard Doyle and Jordan mention it at brunch a few weeks ago—and it was confirmed when I ended up at the hospital with her last night.”
Sutton’s eyebrows shot up. Magnolia paused mid-wipe on the bar.
“The baby’s father kind of ghosted her after a… situationship.” He cringed. “I can’t believe I just used those two words in a sentence.”
I winced. That was… brutal.
Sutton let out a soft, “Yikes.”
Magnolia muttered under her breath, and I caught enough to know it wouldn’t make the Sunday bulletin.
Lee ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Anyway, I don’t know the whole story. But it sounded like she’s been through it. And now she’s here, alone, trying to figure things out.”
“She’s a photographer, you know,” Magnolia said, reaching for a wine glass. “I was thinking about asking your momma if she could shoot that pre-holiday charity event we’ll all be at. It’ll give her a chance to meet people and maybe soften Doyle up a little.”
Lee perked up. “Jordan said the same thing last night. Said she’s the real deal.
Apparently, she’s done work in like a dozen countries—photojournalism, weddings, travel stuff.
He said there’s this one shot she took in a monsoon, of a bride laughing barefoot in the rain, and it went viral.
Got picked up by a few magazines. He showed me her site—her photos don’t just look good, they make you feel. Like she sees things most people miss.”
Magnolia’s brows lifted. “So why isn’t she doing that now?”
Lee shook his head. “Jordan’s not sure. Said she was bouncing from country to country, gig to gig, and then… she just stopped. Went back to New York, picked up some odd jobs. Started doing local stuff again. He said it seemed like something happened, but she never really talked about it.”
Magnolia let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a pivot. Bet we can guess what that something was that happened.”
It was one thing to be new in town—jobless, pregnant, clearly hanging on by a thread.
But to hear she’d been all over the world, then went back to New York and somehow landed here in Savannah, alone, after some guy bailed on her completely?
That kind of hurt didn’t bruise. It left a mark you couldn’t scrub out.
The guilt hit fast and searing, gnawing at the edges of my conscience. I stepped out from behind the bar and started pacing, dragging a hand through my hair like that might help untangle whatever was clawing at my chest.
“I should apologize,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “How do I always end up looking like the asshole?”
Sutton tilted her head, eyes narrowing like she was clocking a new development. “Oh my God. Is Charlie Pruitt actually making this about himself for once?”
Lee let out a low, slow laugh. “Maybe,” he said, careful now, like he knew he was edging into dangerous territory, “You’re not the asshole. Maybe you’re mad because she got under your skin, and you’re not used to people doing that.”
I stopped at the front of the bar, leaning on the edge of a worn barstool. “You realize you’re trying to give me advice in my own sister’s bar, standing exactly two feet from the spot where you shattered her heart and ran off to Nashville, right?”
He lifted his beer and grinned, shooting an unbothered wink at my sister. “And yet here we are.”
I didn’t say anything after that, mostly because I didn’t have a comeback that didn’t sound like a tantrum.
My whole life, I’ve been the loyal one. The dependable one. The guy who picks up the phone at midnight, who shows up with tools when your sink breaks or bourbon when your heart does. Charlie Pruitt. The solid one. The one who holds it all together.
I’ve been the foundation. For Magnolia. For Sutton. For Lee. For everyone else in our circle. Even when it felt like I was barely hanging on myself.
And somehow, within one night, Tally had turned me from the golden retriever best friend everyone could count on into the guy in the corner, snarling and snapping, unsure how to clean up a mess for the first time in my life.
She didn’t just rattle me. She’d looked straight through me and saw something I didn’t want seen.
She saw the asshole underneath.
And I hated that. Hated how it made me feel like I wasn’t as unreadable as I thought. Like perhaps the armor I’d spent a decade welding around myself wasn’t as bulletproof as I needed it to be.
Because if she could see the mess behind the curtain after knowing me for all of two minutes… how long until everyone else did, too?
I was the guy who held everything together.
But standing there, elbow-deep in dish soap, thinking about the flash of her eyes and that defiant curl of her mouth…
I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I was the one coming apart.
***
Back in the studio, I tried to work. Opened my sketchpad. Stared at a blank page.
I kept thinking about last night—her lying on that table, barely conscious, and the worry that shot through me even though I didn’t know her. And then today, when I actually got the chance to talk to her, I’d been a complete ass.
I glanced down at my forearm—the linework I’d finished last month, tributes to mentors I’d lost and the people I loved. I wondered if she’d noticed the ink last night. The way her eyes had flickered over my arms before she went down.
The sketchpad dropped to the coffee table. I grabbed my beer and took a long pull.
I’d spent my whole life being the foundation—for Magnolia, for everyone. Solid. Steady. Dependable.
So why did one night with a stranger make me feel like I was the one coming apart?