Page 68 of Love Me Steadfast
“Yeah, actually.”
I leave her standing on the porch and cross to the detached garage, then pull the door open to reveal my old blue Silverado.
After everything fell apart that summer, Zach told me to sell it. He saw the torment I was going through. Every time I drove it took me back to those stolen moments when Charlotte and I would sneak away to make out or talk. But I couldn’t go through with selling it, even though I didn’t understand why.
I understand now.
Footsteps land behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to catch the tense look in Charlotte’s eyes. “You kept it?” she asks in a soft tone that wraps around my heart, like a hug.
There she is.
“Of course I kept it.”
Drinking in the way she stares at the truck where we first kissed feels wrong. I should be sliding my arm over her shoulders and drawing her close. What is she feeling right now? Anger? Regret? Or is this the moment we finally start getting past all that?
“I’ll get the keys.”
When I slip back inside, Theo’s rinsing his breakfast dishes. My chest tightens with the push-pull of everything bottled up inside me,but I tug on my barn jacket and snatch my keyring from the hook, then grab Ollie’s leash. When she hears it jangling, she races over, tail wagging.
Theo glances over his shoulder. “I’m gonna get in a workout, maybe grab a few hours’ sleep. Meet you at Zach and Sofie’s?”
“Sounds good.”
I let Ollie out then follow, closing the door behind me. Charlotte is leaning against the hood of her car, looking toward the mountains. I walk to the back of the truck and open the tailgate. Ollie's already leaping before I have it all the way lowered. She paces back and forth, tail wagging. I shut her in then squeeze inside the garage and climb behind the wheel, emotions pricking my chest as the memories and hope mix together. After a quick rub across the dash for luck, I slide my key into the ignition. The engine purrs to life, and I back out of the garage.
Charlotte gives my house one final glance, her face tense, and then she crosses the gravel and climbs in.
Chapter Twenty
CHARLOTTE (AGE 15)
I weavethrough the sea of bodies, the Christmas music drowned by the conversation and laughter of the guests, and grab a plate at the end of the buffet.
Morgan’s right behind me and gives a little squeal. “Dad got cheesecake bites again!”
“And those pesto pinwheels.” And so many other favorites. Mo and I load up our plates. Just as I top mine off with a white chocolate truffle, Garett, one of The Limelight’s bartenders, catches my eye.
“Save some for the rest of us,” he jokes.
He’s smiling, but his eyes look smug. Like he’s just scored a point. His gaze sweeps down my body, then back up.
“This is our party,” Morgan says, oblivious to the weird unease skating over my skin as I turn away from Garett. “We can eat as much as we want.”
I knock the side of Morgan’s shoe with mine, and she gives me a sharp look. “What? It’s true.”
Yeah, but we sound like brats, I tell her with my eyes. “Come on, let’s get some hot chocolate.”
“Yes please!”
After a quick stop at the beverage station, we dodge guests to the thankfully unoccupied couch. If I have to answer one more “how’s school going this year?” or explain why I plan to study music instead of becoming a rock star before I get some nourishment in me, I might pass out.
After setting my Santa mug of cocoa on the coffee table, I tuck my velvet dress hem beneath me before lowering to the cushions with my plate in my lap. Just as I pop an entire deviled egg into my mouth, the sea of bodies filling the room shifts, giving me a straight shot to where William and Theo are talking with some of dad’s friends. William’s wearing black chinos and a crisp dress shirt with mini red checks, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Is it weird that I am secretly in love with his sexy-as-hell forearms? His dark hair looks in need of a trim because there are curls at the nape of his neck. As if sensing my eyes on him, William glances my way. Heat shoots up my face, and I cover my mouth with my fingers so he doesn’t see my full cheeks. His eyes brighten the way they do when he’s about to tease me. I glare back, but it only unleashes more of his smile. The crowd shifts again, blocking my view.
After we drop off our empty plates in the kitchen and thank the caterers, Dad catches my eye and beckons us over to where he’s talking to two guys I don’t recognize. One is tall with a buzz cut, wearing tight black jeans and a black button down, the collar open, no tie. The other is more stocky, his white-blonde hair in a low ponytail and matching scruff on his face.
Morgan groans in my ear when I take her hand and lead her toward them, but pastes on a polite smile when we’re introduced.
“Halsey and Steve both grew up in Finn River,” Dad says, lifting his wine glass. “Now they’re in the music biz.”
