Page 4 of Begin Again
When I take the final steps to the kitchen, my awareness falls. Joseph’s daughter, Charlie, rummages through the cabinets, muttering to herself.
“Looking for something?”
The sound of my voice practically sends her shooting through the roof. She spins on her heel with wide eyes and loses her balance, falling onto the counter before crumbling to the ground. She giggles the whole way down.
“Are you drunk?” I ask, bending down to her level.
“No.” She giggles and her head shakes back and forth against the white cabinet. “Y-you’reeeeeee drunk.”
“Oh yeah, you’re drunk.” I sigh. “What are you doing down here?”
“I need a snack!”
I take in her appearance—black pleather jeans, a one-shouldered black top, black heeled booties, and large silver hoop earrings. It looks like she just walked in the door. I caught a glimpse of her jumping in her truck while making my rounds in the barn after dinner. That had to have been around seven. Did she just get back? The stove clock reads 3:34 a.m.
“Did you just get home?”
“Yeah, so?” Charlie quips. “You’re not my dad.”
“No, but you’re gonna wake him up if you’re not quiet.”
Charlie huffs, folding her arms. “You’re bossy. I don’t like you.”
I roll my eyes, putting one arm under her legs and the other around her back to lift her off the ground.
“Put me down, Xavier! I’m not a child.”
When I was still at the hospital, we all agreed on the name Xavier. I can’t remember how we decided on it, but at the time, anything was better than being the nameless freak. “Then stop acting like it,” I say.
Charlie tries to push me away as I walk toward the stairs, but her attempts have no effect on me. “I can w-walk, Xavier. Let me walk!”
“Okay, just be quiet!” I hiss, looking her straight in the eye. I glance down the hall at Joseph’s door. Just because hecansleep through anything, doesn’t mean hewill. The last thing I need is him coming out at three in the morning to find me carrying his drunk daughter up the stairs. “If I put you down, will you be quiet?” She starts to open her mouth, but I stop her. “Ah! Say something else and I’m carrying your drunk ass upstairs. Got it?”
Charlie huffs, mumbling something that sounds like “you’re mean,” but does as she’s told.
I slowly set her back on her feet, but her ankles wobble in the booted heels. She clutches at me, trying to steady herself, and it sends us both tumbling a few paces. When I look up to check on her, we’re mere centimeters apart, so close I can smell the vodka and citrus on her breath as I look directly into her green eyes. She sucks in her bottom lip, gaze dropping down to mine and back.
“Zay,” she whispers, starting to close the gap between us.
Oh no. I cannot let this happen, especially not in this state. Clearing my throat, I take a step back. “Let’s go, Charlie.”
Her arms fall to her sides as she stands there like a scolded child. Her eyes narrow, staring at the ground, piecing together what just happened. When she straightens her back, she seems a little less wobbly on her feet, as if the whole thing sobered her up a bit.
That theory goes out the window when she takes her first step, her ankle giving way beneath her. She almost crashes into the banister, but I catch her before she does.
“I can do it!” Charlie swats at my hand.
“Not unless you want to tumble down the stairs in those damn shoes,” I say, rolling my eyes and picking her up again.
I leave the door of her bedroom open when I walk in and set her on the edge of her bed. This is supposed to be a quick trip in and out, there is no need to hang around, but Charlie has other plans. She flops back onto the bed and lifts one of her boots. “Help me.”
“Charlie.”
“Please,” she whines.
I sigh but step back into the room, kneeling in front of her to remove the shoes. Unzipping the boots, I tug them off her feetand place them neatly at the foot of the bed for her to put away when she wakes up. “Okay, Char, time for bed. Let’s go.”
“Are you gonna read me a bedtime story?” She giggles, lifting up on her forearms to stare down the bed at me.
