Page 54 of The Charm of You

The windows are rolled down, and the fresh air on my face does wonders for my soul. I already feel better than I did this morning, a feat not even Maren’s coffee or a midday trip to Quintin’s Ice Cream Shoppe accomplished, but Austin is tense. An air mattress pumped full of excess air isn’t as tense and ready to burst at the seams like he is.

I lick my lips and hike my left leg onto the seat, where I tuck my foot underneath my other knee. “Tell me more about this routine of yours.”

“I’d rather not.” He raises the windows until they’re closed. Then we turn onto a gravel road, which bends through an arch of tree branches. It’s not long before we kick up dirt and dust around us, creating a sandstorm.

I don’t spot a house or another car, and none of this looks familiar. We’re about thirty minutes outside of Sapphire Creek, and instead of asking him relentless questions over where we’re going and why he’s choosing this spot rather than one closer to town, I’ve settled into my seat, calm and content, simply enjoying the ride.

It’s peaceful.

“Is it a secret? I bet I could guess the password.” I tap my chin. “Crankbait. Alternator. Frown.”

He works his jaw back and forth, and the twitch of his mouth tells me all I need to know—he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m interested,” I say, and it’s genuine.

After a heavy pause, he says, “On Wednesdays, I practice with my band. Thursdays—I help Mary and Judd with anything they might need done around their house, after which I stay for dinner. Friday nights, I go to Lucy’s Diner, but those plans now have to change.”

“You’re not incapable of change, then.”

“Wasn’t my choice,” he says, with reluctance tainting his clipped words. “On Fridays, I hang with my mom for movie night,” he continues with a sigh.

“Ah, yes. The infamous Hallmark movie tradition.” I smile. “How did that begin?”

Groaning, he brings us to a fork in the road, then steers the truck to the right, where we’re greeted by an opening to what appears to be a fairly wide river.

“Years ago, Ma wanted to watch a movie, and I only agreed to it if she picked the movie. It’s several years later, and she still picks the same type of movie every Friday.” He punctuates his answer with a throw of the truck into park on the side of the road.

I place my hand on his arm to stop him from getting out. “You’re good to her. She’s lucky to have you.”

He doesn’t say anything for what feels like several minutes.

“Don’t you ever feel constricted by your routine, though?” I ask as burning curiosity courses through me like the steady water of the river in front of us.

“Don’t you have one? Last night, you said something about bagels and smoothies on Wednesdays. Why is it so strange that I have a routine of my own?”

“I was kidding about that!” I burst. “My job doesn’t allow for structure or schedules. I’m on the go at a moment’s notice, and there are many late nights at the office. I never know when I’ll be where.”

“Sounds exhausting. Don’t you want more control?”

“Why would I? It’s not like life is going to listen to me.” I throw my head back against the seat with a huff.

“I agree. You and I both know life is often unexpected, but it doesn’t mean I can’t control certain things. I don’t like change, so I’m going to stick to a routine. That’s what makes me happy.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “You’re stubborn.”

“I have to be. Who better to stick up for myself than me?” With that, he jerks his door open and slides out.

Instead of stalking straight to the back for the fishing stuff, he marches around to my side and opens the door for me.

His words play in my head like a record, round and round, scratchy yet beautiful with a resounding tune.

He’s very insightful for such a rough brute, which is yet another reason I like being around him. I never know what nugget of wisdom he’s going to toss my way.

With the gear in each of his hands, he nods to his right for me to follow, and I tug at my burnt orange sweater as I oblige.

But I don’t stop where he does on the bank. I march past him toward a large rock that halfway sits in the water, and I lunge onto it to take in the serenity of this spot.

The water glows under the sun, the trees are different shades of green with a few sprinkles of yellow leaves, and several birds trail each other from one side of the river to the other like they’re playing a game of tag. The soft sounds of the river are better than any melodies they play at the spa, and when I inhale, my lungs fill with much-needed fresh air.

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