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“You make tea?” I ask, trying not to make it a big deal that I’m standing in his house after the last eight years of hell.
“I have a kettle.” He walks to the kitchen and opens a cupboard, taking out a stainless-steel kettle. He goes over to the big sink and fills it up. “And I have tea bags.” He turns the knob on the stove, and the tick sounds until the flame fills under the kettle, then he walks to what looks like a barn door and slides it open. I see it’s his pantry, which is the size of my bedroom. “I have a box of tea,” he states, looking around the shelves and then finding it before coming out with a big brown wooden box. “Told you.” He puts it on the counter and flips over the lid. “We have a bunch of tea.” His eyes scan them. “There is lemon, ginger, and some fruit.” I can’t help but laugh at his description of them. “There is even sleepy tea.” He picks up the pack between his fingers. “And then English breakfast, which is probably not for night. There is apple cinnamon and chai and—” He looks up. “I don’t even know where they got this from.”
“I’ll have the lemon or ginger one,” I say, and he puts down the sleepy tea one before picking up the lemon one.
“Done.” He closes the box but leaves it on the counter. “Go sit down on the couch, and I’ll join you.” He motions to the couch. “Make yourself at home.”
I walk over to the couch and sit down, putting my hands down beside me and feeling how soft it feels under my hands. I stare at the table in front, seeing pictures of Jennifer all over the room, and I get a tightness in my stomach as I look away from her smiling face. I’m about to get up when he’s in front of me, bending to put a mug on the table, the string from the tea bag hanging over the rim. “There you go.”
“I think I should—” I start to say, and he squats down in front of me. “Go.”
“I think you should drink your tea and relax.” He walks over to the side of the couch and grabs a big thick knitted blanket. Tossing it down beside me, he squats down again and pulls off one shoe and then the next one. He sits beside me, wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me to him, reaching out and pulling the cover over me. “Relax,” he says softly, and his smell fills my nose, making me close my eyes and push away all the nerves coursing through me. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, his hand rubbing up and down my arm.
“I’m worried about what happened with the Cartwrights,” I admit and push away from him. “Charlie, what you did was”—I put a hand on my forehead—“dumb and irresponsible. You know what they did to my family and our business, not to mention what they held over Brock’s head.”
I’m expecting him to say something, but instead, he moves to the side, grabs his phone out of his pocket, and presses something, then ringing comes out of it. “Hey,” the man answers, “I don’t hear from you for months and then I get two phone calls in less than two days.”
“Hey, Pops,” he says to his grandfather, Casey Barnes, and my eyes almost come out of my sockets. “Something happened,” he says, looking at me, “thought you should know.”
“Is that so?” he replies, and I shake my head, telling him not to.
“Was out to dinner tonight, and I ran into the Cartwrights.” He ignores my headshaking. “Words were exchanged, along with a little bit of a threat.”
“How little is this threat?” He’s not even fazed by the meaning of this. I’m pretty sure if someone called me and said they made a threat, my voice would be skyrocketed to the sky. I wouldn’t be acting like he just told me that it’s going to be a sunny day.
“Something along the line, if he wants to fuck with anyone, he should pick on someone his own size.” He smirks, looking into my eyes.
I’m expecting his grandfather to freak out, but instead, he just laughs. “Why are you calling me?”
“Just wanted to give you a heads-up in case of blowback.”
This time, Casey laughs even louder and harder. “I’ll try to be ready. Call me tomorrow.”
“Gotcha,” Charlie says, “later.” He presses the disconnect button and throws the phone on the other side of the couch. “Happy?”
“No,” I gasp out. “Why would that make me happy?” I ask. He gets up off the couch, walking over to the lights and turning them all off. The room is lit with a soft light coming from the other side of the room through a doorway. “Charlie,” I say his name softly as he comes back.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” he asks, completely ignoring the fact that there is a huge elephant in the room. “Next time, we should try more than just the pasta.” He pulls me to him.
“Um,” I start softly, trying to catch my bearings, “we should.”
“It’s a nice night.” He looks outside. “Overall, I would say today was a great day.”
I don’t answer him. Instead, I listen to him breathing and close my eyes for a minute, or at least I think it’s for a minute before I feel like I’m being carried. My eyes open, and I look up at Charlie carrying me through the house. The light gets brighter right before it’s being shut off. “I’m sorry I woke you,” he murmurs, standing in what appears to be his bedroom. “I thought you would be more comfortable in the bedroom.” He walks over to the side of the bed and gingerly places me down in it.
My back rests on the rows of pillows. “I should go home.” I sit up in the bed as he puts one knee on the bed beside my hip.
The moonlight comes into his room and I wish the lights were on so I could see him as he stares down at me. “Stay.” His hand comes up to touch my face, rubbing my cheek with the softest touch, and if I wasn’t awake, I wouldn’t know it was happening.
“It’s better.”
“I want you to stay with me.” His voice is a whisper. “I won’t touch you. I just want to sleep with you in my arms.” I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing I should get up and get out of here. “Just stay with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlie
I wish I could kiss her. I wish I could just taste her one more time. “Please,” I whisper in a plea as she looks up at me. I move to the other side of her, laying my head down on the pillow, hoping she lies down next to me. I hold my breath with each passing second, my heart speeding up faster and faster. She slowly leans back against the pillows that never get used.
