Page 92 of Stars and Scars

“I like my cabin,” I reply with mock indignation.

She laughs, her face lighting up like the fourth of July. She’s so beautiful right now, it makes my heart literally ache. I can't believe that I’m lucky enough to wind up with her.

“So, was this your hardest assignment ever?” I ask.

“Well, maybe physically, but not intellectually. Once, I had to impersonate an English Grad student, so I could infiltrate an Ecstasy ring. Let me tell you, English lit is no joke.”

She laughs, hands kneading my chest like a cat. It feels so easy and natural to be this close to her.

“I can’t picture you sitting in a classroom.”

“Oh, I didn’t. I spent a lot of time curled up with a laptop and trying to learn enough to sound, ah, learned. The hardest part was interpretative literature. Like, how in the Hell am I supposed to know what TS Elliot was rambling on about inThe Wasteland.”

“He was talking about the alienation and despair across the world in the wake of World War I.”

I give her a look, and she laughs.

“English was my favorite subject in high school. We did a whole unit on TS Elliot.”

“Look at the big brain on you.”

She gives me a half-lidded gaze and snuggles up a bit closer, rubbing herself against me.

“Be honest. It’s not my brain that you’re thinking about right now.”

“Damn right.”

I lean in and press my lips against her incredibly soft mouth. Kissing Charlotte is like being in a dream I don't want to wake up from.

We break apart, and she rests her forehead against my chest.

“I love you, Charlotte.”

She sighs and rubs her forehead on me.

“I love you, too, Grayson. I couldn't have asked for a better bodyguard. I mean, you sure know how to take care of a girl…”

The chemistry is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

“You know I love taking care of you, Sunshine.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you call me that?”

“Because you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

I keep singing, old pain searing its way to the surface. Charlotte reaches out and squeezes my hand. Concern swims in her lovely azure gaze when the tears well up in my eyes.

“My mom used to sing that to Sabrina and me when we were kids.”

“It’s okay to be sad,” she says, kissing my tears away. “But it’s also okay to let yourself be happy. Wouldn’t your family want that?”

I open my mouth to argue, then close it. A laugh builds up in my chest and bubbles forth. I feel like a volcano erupting and spewing my tension and emotion out in the most explosive manner possible. Charlotte makes it okay to feel. She makes it okay to not be the tough, implacable guy twenty four seven.

Charlotte watches my display with a happy smile spreading over her face.

“You’re right.”

The profound weight of the admission removes a tension I hadn’t known I’d been carrying. For years, I’ve been punishing myself, denying myself even the thought of being happy because I thought I didn’t deserve it.

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