Page 41 of Begin Again
“Anything in particular?” I ask.
“Take your pick.” Joseph chuckles. “Well, would you look at that? A hummingbird!”
Sure enough, fluttering at the far end of the porch is one of the small birds with rapid-fire wings and a long, slender beak that flows into a fiery red throat. The sun reflects off its iridescent feathers—vibrant shades of green, blue, and purple—hovering near one of the Morello flowers Charlie planted a few days ago.
“First one I’ve seen this year. She’s a pretty thing,” Joseph says, walking down the steps.
The distinct thud of a car door pulls my attention away from the bird. The two men have finally exited the oversized SUV, and the shorter one stares straight at me as they walk toward the house.
“Well, I’ll see you when you get back. Don’t take too long and don’t get more than is absolutely necessary for the fence, you hear?” Joseph instructs.
“Sure, Joe,” I say, holding the man’s gaze. Something about him feels…familiar, but it’s not the same feeling as when I first saw Cooper or Dakota. This is different.
When I get in the driver’s seat, I keep the many thoughts running through my mind to myself. Does Charlie know who those men are? What are they doing here and why were they meeting with Joseph alone? Every time a new question forms, I think about asking her, but the irritation rolling off her tells me to leave her alone…for now.
About fifteen minutes into the drive, I called off my trip to the police station. I’ll have to make the trip down tomorrow during my lunch break when I can talk to Sloan without Charlie’s lingering presence. As I load the supplies from Sullivan’s into the back of the truck, she hasn’t moved from her spot in the front seat, but I know she’s breathing because her arms are no longer crossed, and she sits on her hands. Her eyes are set forward, gaze narrowed as she chews on the corner of her mouth. I’m starting to think her irritation with me is about more than what happened between us…
“You wanna talk about it?” I ask, closing the door after I climb into my seat.
“No.”
Any other day, I would let it go, but not today. Charlie seems extremely bothered by whatever is happening and I know what happened between us isn’t helping. I hate being part of her problems. So, if she will let me, I’ll try to be part of the solution.
“C’mon, you can tell me. What’s bothering you?”
Charlie scoffs. “And why would I tell you?”
“Because it’s better than holding it in,” I say, backing out from the hardware store.
Charlie pulls her hands from under her legs and cracks her knuckles before wringing her hands together. She fidgets the whole way to the post office, the one errand she had to run today. I expect her to jump out of her seat and run inside as soon as I park, but she does the opposite. With a heavy sigh, she rubs her neck and pinches the skin between her thumb and forefinger, clearing her throat.
“He’s selling the ranch,” she says so quietly I almost don’t hear her. Charlie scoffs before she takes a shaky breath. I don’t have to see her eyes to know tears have begun to spring in the corners of her eyes. Shaking her head, she leans back against the headrest, and a tear trails down her cheek. “Says it’s become too much and he can’t keep up with it. Can’t afford to keep up with it. He’s gonna sell it off to those vultures before the bank can take it.”
“Is that who showed up before we left?” I ask, and she nods. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I wish I could do something.”
“Yeah, me too.” Flinging her door open, she storms out of the truck and into the post office.
My shoulders fall with a sigh, staring at the door she walked through. I can sympathize with her. When things seem to be looking up, everyone—me included—pulls the rug out from under her.
Isn’t that how it always works?
Within minutes, Charlie stomps back to the truck, a package in her arms. She tosses it onto the floor beneath her feet without care for whatever is inside and sits back in her seat, folding her arms tightly across her chest and gluing her gaze to the windshield.
“How ’bout we go grab something to eat? Might make you feel better.”
“Not in the mood,” she says, looking out the window instead.
“My mom used to say there wasn’t anything a good meal couldn’t fix.” We both freeze as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“You just remembered?” Wide green eyes turn to me.
“Y-yeah, I guess so.” I don’t know where it came from, either. The words popped into my head, and I said them…but when I tried to think of my mom, there was only a vague outline of a woman.
“Better hope it all comes back before you don’t have anywhere to stay.” And she’s back to being a brat.
I roll my eyes and back out, driving to the end of town where my favorite diner awaits us.
Charlie looks around at our surroundings, quickly realizing we are not headed for the ranch. “I said—”
