Page 16 of Messy Match

His tone makes his take on the situation clear. I almost laugh at the irony. If only they knew how I really spent the night. Not wrapped up in the sheets with Charlotte as they’re all assuming, but alone, wondering what the hell I did to deserve the cold shoulder. Again.

I tossed and turned all night, wishing I was only remembering Charlotte in a bikini, then her naked flesh slippery smooth under my fingers. Hell, it was a million times better than any fantasy. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Then came the part of the replay when Charlotte’s walls slammed back up, and I tried to pinpoint exactly what I’d said or done this time. And how it took every ounce of willpower not to knock on that connecting door and demand answers. Or just see her face again.

Dragonflies hover above the surface of the lake. I watch them as I crouch to retrieve my disc from the shallow water, buying a minute before facing my friends. When I turn, all three are watching me expectantly, the late morning sun casting sharp shadows across their amused expressions.

“What?” I challenge, water droplets flying as I shake off the disc.

“Come on,” Mack says, crossing his arms. “The truce obviously worked better than expected. So what’s the issue now?”

“There’s no issue,” I mutter, but even I hear the lie in my voice. There’s a massive issue. One that’s haunted us from the jump. Because, yet again, one minute we were as close as two people could be, with Charlotte surrendering to my touch as if she were made for me. And the next, she’s pushing me out the door, those walls of hers higher than ever.

Brock looks up from his phone. “Jake, I’ve known you both long enough to know whatever it is between you two won’t be settled by a weekend truce. If you’re actually…” He pauses, making a vague gesture with his hand, “with my sister now, I’d rather not know details, but you’d better not be just messing around.”

“It’s complicated,” I sigh, dropping onto the bench. “There’s…unfinished business between us.”

“The New Year’s Eve thing?”

I nod. “We’ve never talked about what happened. I’ve asked, but she’s refused. Somehow, we went from meeting to attraction to whatever the hell that night was to two years of hating each other.”

“Pretending to hate each other, you mean,” Brock says.

“And now?” Mack prompts.

“Now, we’ve ricocheted to…” I trail off, not wanting to detail how hot things were between us last night when her brother, mybest friend, is right here. I also don’t want to admit that, after what felt like a breakthrough, I’m more confused than ever.

“A situationship,” Levi offers diplomatically.

One minute, she’s kissing me on the terrace, the next she’s kicking me out of her room. I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “It’s like one step forward and then a dozen steps back. The thing is, I have no idea what’s going on in her head.”

The guys exchange knowing glances.

“Welcome to a relationship,” Mack laughs, wiping sweat from his brow. “Maya still confuses the hell out of me daily.”

“Same with Zoe,” Levi agrees, tossing a dandelion stem toward the pond. “Sometimes, you never know what those women are thinking.” Just then, his phone buzzes, and he pulls it from his pocket, breaking into a wide grin. “Zoe says a special order from White Glove was just delivered.” He turns his phone toward Brock and me, showing a picture of Libby admiring an elegant bouquet of light pink roses in full bloom, her face lit with joy.

But it’s not Libby’s wide smile I lean forward to examine. Charlotte is in the background, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, her dark hair in a messy pile on top of her head as she laughs at something off-camera.

She looks beautiful, radiant even. While I’ve spent the morning missing shots and replaying every second of her pulling away, Charlotte’s radiating the kind of easy joy that makes me wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

“Need a private moment with that photo, sunshine?” Mack says, nudging me in the side with his elbow.

I drag my gaze away, but not before Brock notices, rolling his eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re my best friend, and a reformed playboy, or we’d be having a very different conversation right now.”

“Can you believe it?” Levi says, pocketing his phone and gesturing toward Brock. “In less than four hours, you’re going to be a married man.”

A genuine smile spreads across Brock’s face. “Best decision I ever made. Libby’s…” he pauses, searching for words, “she gets me, you know? Calls me on my bullshit but still has my back. Never thought I’d find someone who could do both.”

The raw sincerity in his voice hits me hard. That’s exactly what I felt with Charlotte last night, for those brief, perfect moments when everything else fell away. When there was no animosity, no stubborn pride, no walls between us. Just understanding and connection so intense it scared me. Maybe, it scared her, too.

“You two are disgustingly perfect for each other,” Mack agrees, clinking his water bottle against Brock’s in a mock toast.

Levi claps me on the shoulder. “Look, man, take it from someone who wasted too much time dancing around the obvious. Just talk to Charlotte.”

“Preferably after I’m safely on my honeymoon,” Brock adds with a grimace.

Mack tosses his disc toward the next tee, the plastic sailing on the wind. “Believe it or not, it’s good advice. Maybe, teaching at the academy is actually rubbing off on this guy,” he says, dipping his chin toward Levi.

As we head toward the next hole, my mind is elsewhere. A monarch butterfly lands briefly on a nearby flower, its wings opening and closing in the summer heat. I make a silent vow that tonight, after the wedding, I'm going to get to the bottom of what happened that night. Discover the truth about why Charlotte keeps pulling away when things get real between us. After last night, after feeling what it’s like to really be with the gorgeous woman I’ve wanted for years, only to have her shut me out again, I know one thing for certain. I can’t go back to pretending anymore.

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