Page 58 of About Time

“If you think that was a hint, I need to explain to you the art of subtlety my friend. You should know better anyway, I took that as a challenge.”

Donovan rolls his eyes. “Take it however, you want, just take it out of here."

In a demonstration of exactly how stubborn I am, I make myself more comfortable at the bar. “It's like you want me to just move in," I tease him.

“What are you doing here Hattie?”

“I thought I would start with a drink and then pester the bartender for a while," I say.

Donovan sighs loudly. “What can I get you?" he says, all business.

“I’ll take a hefeweizen if you have it,” I reply. There’s so much to say, but he’s very obviously pissed off at me. I deserve it, but I was hoping that enough time had gone by that he would be happier to see me than he was mad about me ghosting him when I left town six years ago.

He sets the beer in front of me and moves along to serve someone else. As the night goes on the bar starts to fill up. I should have realized that even mid-week this place would be packed. I wait him out because I know that when my beer runs out he won’t be able to help himself from coming back over and seeing if I need something else. Yes, I’m using his work ethic to force him to talk to me, but I have no guilt about it.

He lasts for ten minutes before he's back in front of me. “I’m so sorry about Elisa and Martin. It was a beautiful service. They would have been touched that practically the whole town came out for them.”

I nod my head. “I saw you there for a second as you were leaving. Why didn’t you come say something to me?”

He inhales deeply. “Because I’m still mad at you, and I didn’t want any of that to come through at their funeral. They were good people.”

The grief wells up, as it does many times a day. Blinking and taking deep breaths have kept most of the tears at bay since the funeral, but this time they almost overcame my efforts. I store them up for the nights I’m alone. I’ve never been big on sharing my emotions with others, and I haven’t drunk enough to start now.

That isn’t why I came here anyway, so rather than dwell on my sadness, I change the subject. I wave my arm around gesturing to the whole bar. “Elisa told me you bought the bar when Mr. Carson decided to retire. I’m so proud of you. I know that might not mean much, but I’m glad to see that your dreams are coming true.”

“Most of them, at least. I thought I’d have a hot blonde on my arm by now and my best friend by my side. One of three isn’t horrible,” he says.

I shake my head. “I know I messed everything up. I never meant to ghost you. I was in a dark place, and I didn’t want to face how screwed up everything had gotten. Before I knew it a few weeks passed, then a few more, and by the time I started to pull out of the fog of my depression I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. I was a chicken, and I should have called. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you here to stay?” he asks.

I shrug. “I’m taking it one day at a time. Wren isn’t even eighteen yet, and we’re all the family each other has. At a minimum, I’m here for the next few months. I took a leave of absence from the hospital in Florida, and I’m working at an urgent care clinic in Pine Bluff for now. They’ve got a nurse out on maternity leave, so it worked out while I’m figuring out what I want to do.”

His jaw clenches. “What could possibly make you consider going back to Florida and leaving your niece here all alone?”

Before I answer he looks at something over my shoulder. Glares would be a better description. I turn to look, but Donovan starts to yell my name to get my attention. He doesn’t get it fast enough though. When I turn around on the stool I see Charlie sitting in a large booth in the back leaning close to a curvy redhead, whispering something in her ear.

I try to regulate my breathing. I won’t cry over him again. Until this moment, I believed my own lies that I wasn’t falling for him again. I know a lot of people would say I have no right to be pissed off since we made no promises, but fuck that, and fuck them. At the very least he owed me a heads-up that he was actively seeing other women.

“I should have known it was all about him. Please tell me you didn’t start up with him again since you’ve been back,” Donovan begs me to tell him.

I’ve never been a great liar. The only reason I was able to hold on to my secret about being with Charlie the first time was because no one thought to ask. No one except for Donovan of course.

“I can’t tell you that,” I admit.

He throws his rag and storms away. There’s no point waiting for him to return out of the back room. He is probably going to have someone take over for him until he gets word that I’ve given up and gone home.

I sure as hell don’t want to be here with front-row seats to watch Charlie, the manwhore, service the single women of Harriston. My stool makes a screeching noise as I shove back from the bar. I can feel people watching me, but I resist the urge to look back and see if Charlie is one of them.

He confirms that he is when I hear him call out my name. I don’t want to hear the excuses from him, not here in front ofhis special friend. I won’t let him make me look like a pathetic clinger. No one is going to understand what our history is, and I don’t want him to diminish what is left of my memories of what we were. Although, I’m afraid those memories are already tainted.

I don’t stop even when I can hear him trying to maneuver around people. He makes it to the door right as I climb into my car and drive away. This is the reason I always limit myself to one beer because I refuse to be helpless around Charlie Storm ever again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Charlie Past- Age 36

I went homefrom the garage to shower and change, because Griffin insists that we have to go to Donovan’s tonight. I’m not really sure why. We’re both thirty-six, far too old to be partying mid-week when we have to be up early to do a physically demanding job all day. We’re not the college kids who come to town every so often to go wild outside of the prying eyes of other classmates and professors. We can’t spend our nights drinking and still expect to be able to function well enough to provide quality work.

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