Page 64 of The Charm of You

This is where I used to come when I needed a place to go during my high school years. When my mother wouldn’t come out of her room, and I was left to fend for myself.

I don’t blame her, nor do I hold any ill will toward her. Just the opposite. It’s what has made me so protective of her all these years. It was hard to see her so consumed by grief. As a teen, I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to help her other than to keep the lights of our house on.

Some nights, I needed a break from my reality beyond fishing or the rare Friday night football game. This spot was not only an escape, but it eventually became part of me too.

“It’s beautiful out here.” Caroline sucks back a deep breath as if fresh air is in low supply.

My truck’s headlights remain on for a beat longer, casting a glow over her silhouette.

As she takes in the sky, my eyes land on her. She’s still in those sinful leather leggings with her wavy hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her shirt drapes carelessly, tauntingly low across her chest.

The only things she’s changed are her shoes. She’s back in heeled boots, the tops of which skim just over her ankles.

As she spins, her arms wide, one side of her sweater slips from her shoulder, and her smile makes my fucking chest stir.

This woman is beyond my wildest dreams.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come with me,” I say.

She stops twirling and quirks a brow. “Then why’d you ask?”

I sweep my heel across the loose gravel. “Wishful thinking.”

Caroline playfully saunters toward me on her tiptoes, and her arms swing freely by her sides as if they’re caught in the wind.

I’m fucking mesmerized.

My entire body comes alive, but a wave of caution sweeps through me too, like a rip current. By all logic, I’m not her type, just as she isn’t mine, and yet, there’s no denying that some kind of connection is brewing between us.

Once she reaches me, she tosses her hands around my neck and interlocks her fingers. Instinctively, my own hands fly to her hips and grip her tightly like this is all some kind of twisted dream. Like this whole day will vanish if I don’t physically hold onto it.

The lights cut off, and we’re so far into rural Georgia, no other source is available. It’s just Caroline and me under the moon and the stars.

“What are you doing to me, Homecoming Queen?” I ask hoarsely, like the words of my question were scratched against the uneven ground beneath us.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she whispers back and licks her lips.

“Jesus,” I curse under my breath as I fight the confusing war in my head.

I grip her harder, then release her. If this is just a dream, then I need to know it before I lose myself entirely to the fantasy.

I reach behind my head and tug her hands apart, breaking our bond, and I hate myself the second I no longer feel her warmth. “Why, though? Why me? You can have your fun with anyone.”

I strain to make her out in the darkness, partially glad I can only find her silhouette. I’m not one to believe in any kind of voodoo like some others in town, but I’m inclined to think she’s got some magic in her baby blues.

They definitely put me in a spell each time they find mine.

“You’re not just anyone,” she says in a lower octave than her normal voice. She’s not playing around anymore. She’s being honest, and I hold my damn breath for what she says next. “I like being around you, Austin. You don’t treat me the same way most others in my life do.”

“How’s that?” I press.

“You’re real with me. Most people, both in town and even in New York, shower me with compliments as if I can’t survive without them. Others treat me like I’m made of glass. Like I’ll shatter into pieces if faced with any harsh reality.”

She shattered once before.

Memories of her petite body crouched under the bleachers all those years ago blink across my mind like the soft breeze flipping the corner of my plaid shirt up.

An ache settles in the pit of my stomach like a rock.

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