by Brill Harper
“It happens once in a while.”
“You kissed me like you want me. That’s real, right? That’s not some twisted—”
“If your brother knew the things I want to do to you, he’d lock you in a tower and me in a dungeon. I think you’re fucking hot.”
“You called me cozy.”
“I called your apartment cozy. And believe me, that was the first time I’ve ever said that word out loud.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “You haven’t had a lot of comfort in this life, have you?”
“Not really, no.”
“Is that something you want? Comfort?”
I thought I understood the lay of the land a few minutes ago, but she just flipped the map and everything is tilted and strange. I don’t know the answer to that. Is she trying to trick me? What does she want me to say?
Is she right? Am I looking for a cozy place to hide after all that I’ve seen and done? Am I using her for something?
Or maybe comfort, the peace I feel with her, is what is telling me she is the one thing I’m willing to yearn for after a lifetime of not allowing myself to want. She has me in knots. I ache in all the places she opened inside me. Ache for her.
“I just want you, Emily.”
She nods, though her concentration is elsewhere. Outside of the room. “I want to show you something.”
Normally, that would trigger a most excellent response, but her expression makes me wary. I follow her into the other room without saying a word. She stops and opens a drawer, pulling out a DVD. Her hands are shaking.
“If that is what I think it is—”
Emily straightens her spine. “It is. I want you to watch it.”
“No. Why?”
She shrugs and opens the case. “I don’t know.”
I don’t know a lot of things, but I do know this is not a great idea. “Emily—”
“I’m taking it back.”
I don’t think she means the DVD. “Taking what back?”
“My life.”
Emily
CHARLIE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND and that is okay. He doesn’t need to.
I don’t even understand it, though it is probably more important that I do.
My hand trembles as I try to insert the DVD into the player. Trembles so badly I can’t get it seated correctly. Charlie stills me with his quiet, warm fingers, taking the disc away from me and getting it into the machine. I back up and use the remote to turn on the television.
I haven’t watched the movie since that night, but I know where my cameo is thanks to Alan so thoughtfully including where to start when he mailed me the video. That wasn’t all he said in the note, but I push those names aside and cue to the twelve-minute mark.
There we are. God, I look so young. It is hard to believe that it was less than three years ago. Sheila and I answer a few questions—giggle mostly. Florida was a blast—I just remember that now for the first time. We had done some drinking, sure, but we just laughed and laughed most of the trip. The booze wasn’t the highlight. The filming had just been a blip on my vacation until it came to symbolize everything about me.
But right there, at that moment, I was a girl having a wonderful vacation. That Emily thought this would be her secret forever. Something to remind her that she was capable of being surprising. Of having fun and being reckless.
Our intro is brief on camera. I pull in a deep breath. And then. Well. There we are. In all our glory.
The next segment comes on before I realize I’m off the screen. I pause the video and steal a look at Charlie.
A shrug that pretends to be careless lifts his shoulder. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. Except that anytime you want to watch it again, I’m game.”
A laugh escapes me, though it sounds more like a sob. The laugh must have been acting like a cork because when it comes out, it releases the stale air I’ve been holding in since the bachelor party. Pounds and pounds of air expel into the atmosphere. “I do want to watch it again,” I say. And I do.
We watch it two more times. Charlie takes the remote from me. “Well?”
He doesn’t call me names. He doesn’t act astonished or disgusted. He doesn’t change at all.
I sink into my couch. “I feel so light. So...free.” My face feels hot. “You probably think I am so weird right now. But did you see me? I had fun.”
“Yeah, I saw you. Three times.” He takes the spot next to me. “For the record, that was insanely hot. Not just that you flashed the camera—but watching it with you. I know it was some sort of cathartic exercise for you, or maybe you meant to punish yourself or test me or whatever—but watching you flash your tits while standing next to you was damn erotic.”
The turtleneck is too hot. “Stop saying tits, Charlie.”
“No.” He picks up my hand. “How are you doing?”
“That movie was a stupid thing to do, but the stupider thing would have been marrying a man who judges girls so harshly while spending $29.99 a month to watch them.” I’ve known it for a long time. But it wasn’t until tonight that I finally know it in my heart too, not just my mind.
“Thank God you dodged that bullet, yeah?” Charlie sits back and settles me under his arm. “I don’t want you to ever think badly of yourself. It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t have sex. Or do or don’t wear tight sweaters. Or do or don’t wear only shades of brown and browner.” I pinch him. “The point is, the weasel and a lot of guys like him have two sets of standards for women, and neither is particularly flattering. You deserve better.”
I rub my cheek against his flannel shirt. I didn’t think I’d find so much comfort with a man I hardly know. But Charlie is no weasel. “Thank you. For tonight. For...everything.”
“I should be the one saying thank you.” He kisses the top of my head. “We should go soon. Your family is going to wonder what happened to us.”
The slap of rejection stings my already sore ego. He said it was erotic, but he wants to leave? Kiss me on the head like I’m a kid? I pull back to a seated position. “You don’t want to...of course not.”
One sharp tug from Charlie, and I’m in his lap. “Of course I want to.” I feel how much he wants to under my butt. “But not tonight. And I’ll kick myself later for this. But tonight, you’re vulnerable and it wouldn’t be right.”
“I am not—”
He put a finger to my lips. “You are. But you won’t always be. I want you to come to my bed with no regrets. The reasons we don’t work haven’t changed. I’m thirteen years older than you, and I’m just passing through. I don’t have anything you need. Not long-term.” He slides his hand up my arm and back down again, the heat of him searing me beneath my sleeve. He can make me feel too much. Maybe I don’t have the defenses for him just yet. “Give yourself a little time to make sure this is what you want. We don’t have a future—but the present could be amazing.”
He’s as scared as you are. I don’t know a lot about men, but I’m beginning to understand this one.
He is right—I’m a little vulnerable tonight. I’ve been dragging around chains so heavy Jacob Marley would be proud.
But Charlie isn’t exactly free of his past either.
“You told me once we were inevitable.”
“I also told you I’m no good for you.”
I push off his lap. “I don’t need forever or long-term. I understand this is a fling.”
He doesn’t correct me, so I go in the other room to grab my stuff.
I feel a tickle of the girl who wanted to do something unexpected. The girl I’ve pushed down for the last few years. A fling with Charlie is more dangerous than flashing my boobs on camera.
I really should think about just getting a tattoo.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie
AFTER DELIVERING THE bikes to Toys for Tots, sledding on the mountain, and making curls out of ribbons for an hour—all three things I’ve never done before—it is time to get ready for the kids’ party. I
’ve been tasked with helping Mr. Jones...Mark...get the Santa suit on and get him to the party since he can’t reach the steering wheel with his extra padding.
To say that it is unsettling to spend one-on-one time with the father of the woman I’m currently trying to get into bed would be an understatement.
And so is the phrase “trying to get into bed.” I’ve had more than one chance to do it, and my cock is currently hating me for discovering I have a nice-guy side. I’m tense. Grumpy as fuck. And need a release my morning run did not provide. If I don’t fuck her soon, I’m going to have to start a bar fight. I don’t see any other way around it. Fuck or fight.
“How’s your Camaro, son?” Mark asks while I attach his Santa belly.
“She’s a beauty. Jason Jones should quit the sheriff gig and rebuild cars fulltime.”
Mark laughs. “Not likely. He likes his job too much. What about you?”
I cinch the belt and hope it will hold. That is more than a bowl full of jelly. “Me?”
“What are your plans now?”
I should know the answer to that. I wish I did. I’m thirty-eight years old, but I feel like a kid just graduating high school again. Not the kind of guy a man wants sniffing around his daughter, that’s for sure.
“After the Camaro, I don’t really know.”
“Lots of men go into law enforcement after the military. Do you need to start working right away?”
I shake my head and help Mark into the furry red jacket. “I didn’t spend much over the years. My car is gonna cost me, but I have a good sized savings. Plus retirement pay.”
Mark nods. “You should have Emily go over finance stuff with you. She’ll tell you she’s just the bookkeeper for my parents, but she majored in finance. She could have gone anywhere. She’s really good. But she likes it here in Maple Grove.”
I smile but don’t look up. I’m sure the effect of hearing her name is written all over my face. I’ve never had it like this for a woman before. A car, maybe. A woman, no. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
Mark sits in the chair, and I bring over the boots. “You ever think about teaching as a career, Charlie?”
“Me? No. Why?”
“Carter tells me all the guys learned a lot from you. He thinks you have a knack for it. The patience he lacks.”
The boot needs to be tugged. Hard. Mark grunts as it finally slips over his ankle. “Sorry, man,” I say, knowing that didn’t feel good. I get the other one on easier. “I don’t have the education to be a teacher.
“There’s the GI Bill.”
“Who’s going to let a man my age into college?”
“Lots of men your age go to college. Or change careers and go back to college.”
I never thought about going to school. Not even once. I never thought I was the schooling type. “If I ever went to college again for a job, it would be something for disadvantaged kids.”
Mark hangs his beard over his ears. “Really? Like foster kids?”
Suddenly self-conscious, I hand him the Santa hat. “I grew up in the system, so yeah.” No shame, right? I worked hard to outrun the shame, but it still haunts me. Maybe it always will.
“We have a program in Washington you could volunteer for. It’s called CASA. They train you to be a guardian ad litem. I’ll get you the brochure. You’d be a child advocate in the court system. It’s a volunteer position—but the experience would maybe point you in the direction for a career.”
I think about that the whole drive into town. I never had an advocate when I was a kid. If I could do that for someone else...
“Hey Santa, do they have that program in other states, too?”
Mark shrugs. “Probably. I’m only familiar with Washington laws though. It’s a good state. You might like to stay. You know people here. There is a university twenty minutes away. Emily could help you find a place in town.”
I shoot him a look, but Mark just chuckles, his stomach jiggling. “Carter told me you wanted to take Alan out with a punch the other day. That’s a ringing endorsement as far as I’m concerned. My daughter could do worse.”
“I’d still like one shot at his nose.”
“I can’t condone violence or breaking the law. But if you happen to find yourself in need of a lawyer...”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
My daughter could do worse. I let that sink in the rest of the way to the community center.
At the party, I get swept up in helping Mrs. Jones and Mike the librarian for hours, but every sight I catch of Emily steals my breath. She hasn’t changed any on the outside—she’s wearing a heavy, dark, nearly shapeless skirt that comes past her knees, and her cardigan covers a blouse that buttons all the way up her neck—but she shines the way the moon glints off snow. She could probably wear a nun’s habit and I’d think she glowed. This is insane.
Mrs. Jones finds me. It is time to fold the tables and put the chairs away. I like that she seeks me out to help. I don’t mind hard work.
“Charlie, thank you so much for helping tonight. I wish I felt worse about using my houseguest as the hired help.”
“I like feeling useful, ma’am.”
“I hope you also feel included. You fit in to the community so well tonight.”
I add another chair to the stack. It’s starting to feel like Mr. and Mrs. Jones are up to something. “Mrs. Jones, you know I can’t—Mrs. Jones?” She’s turned an ashen shade and her eyes are glassy. “Are you okay?”
I think she is going to answer, but instead her eyes close and she starts to fall. I rush to her side, catching her mid-swoon and lowering to the floor with her. “I need help over here!”
Chapter Twelve
Emily
I PACE THE TOO SMALL waiting room of the ER. There are too many people in the small space. Too many voices. Too many questions. Unanswered ones.
And Charlie. Walking toward me. Game face on. In control. He has my coat in his hands. “C’mon, let’s go for a walk,” he says, offering his hand.
“I can’t. What if they come out to tell us something, and I’m not here?”
“Your family will find you. They have this thing now where people can send messages to handheld devices. It’s pretty cool, actually. I think I saw one in your purse. You can bring it with us.”
I sigh.
Charlie steps into my space and speaks low in my ear. “I’ve been watching you for a week now. I know the signs, and you need some space and fresh air. And probably a snack.”
We are close. Sharing the same air. But I don’t move away. He radiates strength, and I want to bask in it like a sun worshipper on a beach. “What signs? What are you talking about?”
“You get a look in your eye when you’ve had too much people time.” When I scoff, he squeezes my hand. “Baby, let me help you.”
Well, if he is going to call me baby, I’ll never be able to resist him. It doesn’t mean anything. It is just a nickname. Like mistletoe. But boy, do I like it.
He slips my coat onto my shoulders and my hand into his.
The night air is crisp and snow is falling. Some of the tension in my muscles lessens as soon as we get outside. He was right. I needed to get out of there. But only for a few minutes.
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.” I stop, hit full force with all the thoughts that have been racing through my head since Mom collapsed at the end of the party. “What if my mom is really sick? What if this is her last Christmas? God. She can’t be sick.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” He pulls me into his arms, his hands cupping my head protectively. “She’s probably just got some kind of flu. Or she forgot to eat today. She’s been feeling under the weather all week, right? I bet she just overdid it tonight trying to make the party special for the kids.”
I cling to the lapels of his coat, anchored by him. “Thank you for catching her when she fainted.”
“Well, she’s not the first woman to swoon at my feet. I told you I was kind of a big deal.”
I laug
h. I actually laugh. Which only reminds me of how serious this night is. “Thanks for staying with us here tonight. I’m sure you’re tired, too.”
“I don’t have anywhere else I want to be right now.”
He lets go of my neck so I can look up. Our eyes meet and his drift to my mouth. Is he going to kiss me? Right now? Outside?
“Your lips are turning blue.”
Oh. Guess not.
“We should go inside.”
I nod. “In just a minute, though, okay? This is nice. Being out here. With you.”
He takes out the mittens that are flopping out of my pocket and slips them onto my hands. “This is the part where I get to say I told you so.”
He takes such care, smoothing the material, making sure they are tucked under my coat cuffs. He probably doesn’t even know how well he takes care of people. Where had he learned that in a childhood of not being held by anyone who loved him? “Are my lips still turning blue?”
“A little bit.”
“Have any ideas how to warm them up?”
The dimple pops out, making a rare showing. “I just might, actually.”
“Emily!” Carter’s voice stops me mid-swoon. I turn to the doors where he is standing. “Dad’s come out. He has news.”
I slip on a bit of slush coating the sidewalk in my haste to get back inside, but Charlie catches me by the elbow and keeps me upright. I’ll need to remember to thank him. Later. After I know.
God, what if it is really bad? My mom is the center of all our lives. The idea of losing her...
“Stop expecting the worst,” Charlie says as the doors slide open.
How did he even know what I was thinking?
Then I see my father surrounded by my family.
“Dad.” I run to his open arms. He’s still wearing the Santa pants and suspenders, so out of place under the fluorescent light that blinks on and off a little. “Is she okay?”
“I’m going to tell everyone at once, okay, sweetheart?”
I nod and fold myself into the ring of family gathered around him. Charlie’s hand finds my shoulder, and I cover it with my own, grateful for his strength right now when mine feels in short supply. I try reading my father’s face. All I see is tired.