Page 17 of The Charm of You

“Fine. Maybe you’re right. I’m a real monster.”

Addie pats my hand. “You have so much to offer a woman, and you deserve to be happy with the right one. I don’t think Keely was it. Maybe you’ll be more open with someone you feel is worth a spot on your list of priorities.”

“You and your lists,” I mumble as the pinch of tension between my shoulder blades subsides.

“The best way to live is through a succinct and alphabetized list,” she chirps in a singsong voice.

“It’s also the best way to stay single. Nothing less sexy than a list,” I toss.

“The right woman for you is someone who appreciates you for your cactus personality. The right guy for me is someone who appreciates my lists.”

“Can’t argue there.” I place my hands on both hips again, mulling over this somewhat helpful conversation. Addie might be a pain in my ass, but she’s at least a little insightful. “Wait.” I twist my lips. “What the hell is a cactus personality?”

“You’re prickly. Don’t need much love, tenderness, or other cacti to survive. But you’re interesting to look at.” Her cheeks redden as she seemingly suppresses a laugh, and I internally take back what I thought about this conversation being even mildly helpful.

She holds her hands up. “I’m officially excusing myself from your personal life—for now, of course—but will you be at the Tap tomorrow?”

“Do shad gather onto the bank during a windy day?”

Her blank stare answers me. “Some days, you and I don’t even speak the same language.”

“The answer is yes to both questions.”

“All you had to say.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I smirk.

“Since you’re finally in a better mood, my work here is done. I’m off to spread more cheer around town.”

Once she’s gone and the echo of the door closing behind her disappears, my cherished peace washes over me.

But it doesn’t last long. Old habits creep up my spine, and I feel every bit like the insecure teenager I was ten years ago. The one who was often overlooked. The kid on the outside, looking in.

All I cared about was earning decent grades and working to support my mom and me. I dedicated all my time and energy to those things. I didn’t have time to go to Josh Rivers’s weekend bonfires and beer fests.

I got to hear all about them the Monday after, though.

As I trudge into Judd’s office to check a few invoices, I’m right back there, ten years ago, when girls like Caroline Summers didn’t offer me the time of day. They were too busy running around with guys who didn’t work or worry all the time.

Even the girls I’ve casually seen in the last few years have left quickly like they were just scratching an itch with me. They’ve never asked me for anything serious. Sure, I would’ve declined, but they’ve never brought up the notion to begin with.

Case in point: Keely.

As much as that sucked, especially since she’s already moved on with someone more worthy of her efforts, the breakup wasn’t the biggest kick in the dick this week. Surprisingly enough, what takes the damn cake was Caroline fucking Summers not recognizing me or remembering my name.

chapter

five

CAROLINE

In my old bedroom, I flip through my high school yearbook, pausing on every page. It’s not only because I’ve been drugged with a heavy dose of nostalgia today, but also to figure out who this Austin Kyle is.

Nothing about him at Bready or Knot this morning rang a bell.

He and I supposedly graduated together, and I have no recollection of him in the slightest. This would’ve made sense had I graduated with hundreds of other teens, but there were less than eighty of us.

I should remember him.

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