Page 29 of Begin Again
The sound of an engine catches my attention, and I see Charlie’s truck making its way through the field. She parks a few yards away and keeps a small distance between us after climbing out of the cab.
“Something I can help you with?”
“I’m sorry.” The words look like they pain her to even say.
“For?”
“What Jackson said last night.”
“Look, Charlie—”
She cuts me off, taking another step closer with a hand raised. “No, I get it. I know I haven’t been the most…agreeable since you got here, but…” She chews on her bottom lip, scraping the toe of her boot across the dirt. “I haven’t been fair to you, Xavier. And I know I can’t expect you to…feel the same way. You don’t even know who you are. Expecting anything from you isn’t fair. I’m sorry.”
“You’re right,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
Her eyes are immediately drawn to the blood on the ripped piece of cloth I used to cover my left hand. Without warning, she closes the space between us, taking my hand in both of hers to examine the wound. “What happened?” Her touch is soft and delicate around the slice.
“It’s a small cut. I’m fine.” I remove my left hand from her grasp, using my right one to lift her chin and meet my gaze. “Charlie, you’re right. It’s not fair, but it’s not fair for me to lead you on, either.”
“You haven’t.” She places a hand on my chest when I try to argue. “Truly, Xavier…This is on me.”
Hearing her take the full blame for what has transpired between us makes me feel like shit. This is not all on her. While I’ve done a pretty good job maintaining distance between us, especially when I can feel her closing the gap, I’ve slipped fromtime to time, too. And let’s not forget the billiards game on her birthday…
“Let’s do it,” I say without thinking. God knows if I think about it, I’ll back out. Charlie looks up at me skeptically. Closing my good hand around hers on my chest, I say, “Let’s go on a…date.”
“You don’t seem too sure.”
“No, yeah…Let’s do it. The festival is tomorrow. Why not then?”
Charlie chews on the idea for a moment, longer than I expected her to, but a smile finally crosses her lips. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
I’m not.
I’m not sure about this, but it feels like the right thing to do when she is standing here chastising herself for something that isn’t entirely her fault. I don’t trust myself to respond verbally; instead, I lift the corners of my mouth with a small nod.
The confirmation gives her a little extra pep in her step when she takes two steps back. “Okay, well…” She glances back down at my injured hand. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m supposed to leave, but—”
“I’m fine, Charlie. I’m about to head back and get something to cover it up. I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad, see?” I flex my left hand and try not to wince at the twinge when my skin tugs against the edges of the slice.
“Okay, if you’re sure...Dad and I are meeting Katy in town to help set up and—” Charlie trips over air on the way back to her truck. She’s nervous. The only other time I’ve seen her nervous was before she got on Lady for the first time, but these are different kinds of nerves. My brow raises, watching as she continues to walk backward, rambling on about God knows what because I stopped listening.
When she’s finally gone, I take a deep breath and scrub my good hand down my face. This is a bad idea, or maybe it’s my nerves kicking in. Either way, it’s not like one date means we’re walking down the aisle. It doesn’t mean we have to kiss. We’re only spending time together and getting to know each other better. Nothing more. Nothing less.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EVERYONE IN TOWN MUST be at this festival. There’s barely enough room to breathe, let alone walk in any general direction. There’s been a constant tightness in my throat, a constriction around my heart, from the moment we walked up Main Street and saw the crowd. This whole thing is overwhelming, to say the least. I blindly follow Charlie, her hand gripping mine to keep from getting lost in the crowd, and I can’t help but notice how her hand feels in mine. It’s soft—almost too soft—for someone who does more manual labor than the average woman. Her fingers grip mine a little too tight, making up for the gaps between our linked appendages because of how skinny hers are. Every so often, she tosses a smile my way, and I do my best to reciprocate it, hoping she can’t tell I’m not present at the moment.
I could barely sleep last night, that’s saying something considering I don’t get much sleep as it is, and it wasn’t only due to the nerves about my impending day with Charlie.
When I returned from working on the fence, I expected to find Joseph’s truck parked beside the house, but it was still missing. I sent a silent prayer of thanks up to the heavens. That meant he and Charlie were still in town and I had some uninterrupted time to decompress. The thought of running to the diner for dinner crossed my mind because having to cooksounded terrible after working in the field all day, but first, I needed a shower. About halfway through my shower, I decided I definitely wouldn’t be cooking, especially when the slice across my palm began to throb. I had almost forgotten about it until I had to peel the wrap from my skin, where it was sticking to the wound. Okay, maybe it was a little worse than I initially thought, but I didn’t think it needed stitches. It was going to hurt like a bitch for a few days, but I’d survive.
Helen’s face lit up when I walked into the diner, but her eyes immediately dropped to the white bandage wrapped tightly around the middle of my hand. “What happened to you?”
“Fence got the best of me.” I yawned, taking the coffee mug she set on the end of the table.
“Yeah, those fences can be real dicks. Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m sure you’ll get ’im next time.” Helen’s raspy laugh echoed through the almost empty diner as she sauntered away to throw my order on a ticket.
Business at the diner was slow and Helen took the opportunity to sit with me while I ate. While I had come looking for peace and quiet, I appreciated her company. She talked at a fast pace. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with her. She filled me in on some of the latest gossip going around town—I was glad to know I was no longer the town’s only source of entertainment—and told me a little more about herself. She had worked at the diner for the better part of thirty years, something to keep her busy after her kids left the nest. Sometimes working here felt like raising kids, but she enjoyed it, nonetheless. I enjoyed the company and getting to know her. It would be nice to have another person in town I could lean on who wasn’t Danny Sloan or Joseph. While Helen might carry a look of pity in her eyes whenever I first walk in the door, she doesn’t treat me like a Chinadoll.
