Page 26 of Begin Again
“Sure.”
“It was high school,” she says with a shrug. “Live and learn, I guess.”
“Hmmm.”
“Don’thmmmme.” She points one of her fingers at me from across the front seat.
“I didn’t say anything!” I laugh and lift my hands in surrender.
“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face.” Charlie sighs, one of those full-body sighs you feel deep within as it rolls through you. She keeps her gaze locked on her hands as her fingers twist around each other. “Please don’t tell my dad about this. I don’t want him thinking I’m running around with Cooper again. He already does, or you wouldn’t be here. But I don’t need him knowing that Coop showed up tonight. He’ll never let me leave the house.”
“Hate to break it to you, Charlie,” I say, peering over my shoulder out the back window to pull out of the parking spot. “You’re a thirty-year-old woman. You can do what you want.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“MORNING, MR. SULLIVAN,” I say with a wave as I walk into Sullivan’s Hardware two days after Charlie’s birthday fiasco. I don’t have to look at the old man to know he only offers a simple nod in return, which is more than he used to give me.
Sullivan’s Hardware is the main source of materials for a variety of things in Bezer, from construction materials to general household needs to DIY project supplies to farm necessities. You could walk in and find just about anything you were looking for. The first time I came in, Mr. Sullivan stood behind the counter, inputting the price of each item into the register (by hand), and was about to give me the total when Charlie appeared from the back. I was surprised to see her. What was she doing there?
“Mr. Sullivan, he’s with us,” Charlie said, setting the load in her arms on the counter. That’s when I noticed the apron tied around her waist and realized she worked at the hardware store. “This is Xavier. He’s helping Dad up at the ranch.”
Mr. Sullivan’s gaze narrowed on me before he rolled his eyes and walked away from the counter. He grumbled to himself the whole way back to his chair a few feet away.
“You’re good, Xavier. Anything you get here goes on the tab,” Charlie said, pushing the bag of smaller items forward. “Don’t mind him, he’s just an ol’ grump. It’s part of his charm. Ain’t thatright, Mr. Sullivan?” Her question earned a grumble and huff from behind the newspaper in his hands.
But she was right. I have come to appreciate his grumpy charm.
Howard Sullivan is a quiet, reserved man who always has his nose in the newspaper—but not one of the mainstream ones. No, he refused to carry those papers filled with “unreliable bullshit,” as he put it when I asked him for a copy once. I hoped if I could get my hands on one, I could find something that would point me in the right direction, but Mr. Sullivan shot that idea down before it ever got off the ground. A few more stops around town proved everyone in Bezer felt the same way Mr. Sullivan did about the news. Not to mention, asking someone around here about a computer that isn’t from the ’00s might be a sin.
I stroll through the aisles, picking up a new pair of pliers and an oil filter for the truck before going out back to grab some barbed wire for the fence that needs to be repaired…again. This is the third time I’ve had to fix the same section of fence. Either I have no idea what I’m doing (a strong possibility) or someone doesn’t want it there. I think some sections need to be completely replaced and the fence will be fine, but Joseph refuses to let me do so. Says it’s not worth the hassle.
I’m surprised I haven’t seen Charlie yet. She usually makes her way out of the back by now when I come into the store. Then again, maybe she’s not working, but she wasn’t at home this morning when I left. Joseph didn’t seem too worried about it, so she must not be anywhere Cooper could get to her.
When he asked about our night out, I left the part about Cooper out of it. I wasn’t lying. Joseph didn’t ask, so I didn’t tell. I simply left it at:
Things were fine.(Things were fine until Cooper showed up.)
Charlie had fun.(Charlie did have fun until Cooper showed up.)
Her friends were nice. (And her friends were nice, even Jackson who almost spilled whatever secrets Charlie has been keeping.)
Mr. Sullivan glances over the counter, taking a quick inventory of the items I’ve collected, before grumbling to himself and sitting back in his chair.
“See you later, Mr. Sullivan,” I call over my shoulder and walk out the door, but this time he shoves his nose further into the paper. “See you ’round, Xavier,” I say, mimicking his nonexistent answer to my goodbye.
Loading up the truck takes less than two minutes and returning the cart to Sullivan’s takes one more minute, but I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings in those three minutes. One man walks around the back of the truck, and another walks toward me on the sidewalk. This one I recognize instantly: Cooper Hayes. He stops, toeing the sidewalk edge and blocking me in the space between my truck and the one next to me.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” the other man says, gnawing on a toothpick between his teeth. I can only assume this is his partner in crime, Dakota Johnson. Black ink creeps up his right arm disappearing underneath the sleeve of his gray T-shirt—intricate markings of some sort. His eyes, black and ominous, are hidden in the shade of the baseball cap on top of long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his neck, matching the color of his full beard. He’s at least the same height as Cooper, maybe an inch or two shorter.
“Am I?” I look between them. I have nothing to defend myself with other than the keys in my hand. Everything else, including the gun Joseph gave me foremergencies,is inside the truck. Some good it’ll do me there. “Guess it didn’t stick.”
Cooper steps closer, sticking his finger into my chest and staring down at me. “We don’t like smartasses.” He towersover me by at least four inches, probably more. Despite the adrenaline beginning to pump through my veins and the little voice in my head screamingdanger, I don’t back down.
“What a relief.” I scoff. “Neither do I.”
“We don’t like games either!” Cooper practically yells in my face. “We should take you out back and finish what we started back at Achor.”
Achor? What’s that?
