Page 98 of Ebbing Tides
I felt like a fool for hoping and then even more like one when Charlie rounded the house and spotted my truck parked outside.
He carried an axe with him as he headed down the hill, and for half a second, I truly wondered if he was intent on murdering me, remembering something Melanie had said about him having killed before. But then he leaned the axe against the stone fence surrounding the perimeter of his yard and continued walking in my direction.
Certain now that he wasn’t going to kill me, I rolled down the passenger window.
“Hey, Charlie,” I greeted, forcing a smile on my face. “Sorry to bother you.”
He wiped his hands off on his jacket as he replied, “It’s no problem. I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”
I nodded, wondering if it was Melanie who had told him or the day-shift guard, but knowing I wouldn’t ask.
“It’s okay,” I said.
He rested his forearms against the open window ledge, leaning down to look into the truck. “I guess you came by to see if Melanie was still here.”
I wasn’t sure why I felt so guilty about that, but I did as I mustered a nod.
To my disappointment, despite not being surprised, Charlie shook his head. “Sorry. She left pretty early this morning. She wanted to beat traffic.”
It was like drowning to know that she’d been gone for hours and my heart hadn’t sensed the distance between us growing and stretching with each and every mile she put behind her.
“Ah,” was all I could say as I turned to stare at my hands on the wheel.
Seconds went by. The silence between us thickened. I knew I needed to leave and get back to Sid’s place. I needed to get my dog and figure out what I was going to do with my life now that Dad was gone. But Charlie continued to lean against my truck,no longer looking at me, but into the passenger seat. Staring like he was lost somewhere in a daydream.
I waited another couple of awkward seconds, and then I was ready to say something, to get the hell out of there and continue with my day. But he beat me to it.
“Hey, before I let you go, can I show you something?”
My brow furrowed with curiosity, but I nodded.
“Sure, man,” I replied, though now I was certain he was, in fact, going to murder me and bury me somewhere in this place.
I got out of the truck, grabbing my phone in case I had to quickly make an emergency call, and followed him up the hill—past the axe, thank God—and into his house. He told me to wait in the living room for a minute and retreated down a hallway toward what I assumed to be his bedroom.
I took the moment to sweep my gaze around the room, remembering the time I’d had dinner here with Melanie and her boys and Charlie and his wife. It was only a few days ago, yet it seemed so far away now, like a distant memory. A life I'd gotten a taste of, but was never meant to be a part of.
My eyes caught on a picture of a younger Charlie on the mantel, and I stepped closer to get a better look. He must've been about twenty-one, twenty-two—if I had to guess—and he was standing with his arm around the shoulders of another man. Short, dark brown hair. Mischievous eyes and a smirk.
Luke.
I knew who he was the moment I saw him, and I recalled when he’d helped me out that one long-ago day in Connecticut.
I wondered if he would've been so eager if he'd known that, one day, I'd be in love with his wife.
Shuddering at the thought, I turned from the picture in time to watch Charlie walk down the hallway, his face downturned, with something that looked like an envelope in his hand.
He came to stand beside me, his eyes lifting to look at the picture I'd just been looking at.
“Melanie told me you guys had already met,” he said. “That's … that's honestly fucking wild; I can barely wrap my head around it.”
“Oh, believe me,” I said with a chuckle, “I've been trying to wrap my head around it for a long, long time.”
“Would you say it's been as long as you've loved her?”
Goose bumps scattered along my arms at the chill in his tone, and I opened my mouth to speak, to defend myself, when Charlie held up a hand to stop me.
“I want you to read something,” he said, pulling a piece of paper from the envelope.
