Page 74 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
I reached back further, recalling ten-year-old me, with the wild cowlick and eager excitement to be with my dad, but not what precipitated his anger. Had I talked too much? Walked too loud and scared an animal away? Unease settled under my skin. Maybe I didn’twantto remember.
I joined Charlie to finish filling in the cracks, our arms brushing as we worked to fill the spaces, happy for the distraction from my dark thoughts. She’d shed her coat and sweater and tucked her shirt up to reveal her cut. It was an inch long and still seeping a little blood. At this point, though, even if we went back to base camp, it was too late for stitches. Her cheeks and lips were paler than they’d been this morning.
“Don’t overdo it. This doesn’t have to be done today.”
“I won’t.” She skittered away like a scared rabbit.
I followed her around the shelter to where she was stuffing more moss. “I think you should rest.”
“I want to help,” she insisted as she turned to pick up more moss, but I saw her wince at the movement.
“You know what would help?” I strode to her side and swept her into my arms.
“Ben!” She wound her arms around my neck, the moss she’d been clutching dropping behind my back. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
I set her on the ground, her back leaning against a huge boulder. I bent over her, both of my hands resting on the boulder behind her, and brought my head close. “You resting would help me.”
“I can’t sit here and watch you work while I do nothing.”
“You watch me work?” I lifted a cocky brow.
She huffed, but I caught the edges of a smile. “You know what I mean. We’re in this together. I don’t want to be needy.”
I clenched my jaw, but at her worried expression, I forced myself to relax the muscle. I was angry at Greg, not her, but she wouldn’t see it that way.
“You’re not needy. You’re injured. It’s different. Besides, I’m ready for a rest too.” I sat beside her, our shoulders pressed together, both of our legs spread out in front of us. “If only there was something else we could do.”
“We could work on the fishing net.”
“Something a little more … fun.” I turned my head to face her, and she finally looked at me, her eyebrows drawn low in confusion.
“Like …”
I slid my fingers into her hair, past her ear, and behind her head. Her eyes widened even more, and I was glad the camera was angled so it wouldn’t see her shocked expression as I slowly lowered my face toward hers.
She pushed forward, meeting me more than halfway, and pressed her lips to mine.
The kiss was over before I could even process it was happening.
It was our wedding day all over again—only this time, I knew what to expect.
Or at least, I thought I knew what to expect. Sparks. Friction. Blood-rushing excitement. And I had experienced it, for point two seconds before cool air had replaced her lips on mine.
Maybe I’d read this wrong. I thought she was into me. She was at night, when I’d wake up with her wrapped around me like a bow on a present. I’d breathe in her nearness and let her sleeping heartbeat synch with mine. But in the daytime, she’d pretend like nothing happened, so I took my cues from her.
I moved my thumb down her neck where her heart fluttered rapidly, and her breathing hitched. I slid my lips across her racing pulse, tasted her salty skin. A shiver went through her, but she otherwise held completely still.
Her body wanted me, but something held her back. I pressed my forehead to hers, recalling Greg’s violent accusation.
You’re hard to love.
I’d hoped she’d ignored him. That she’d realized he was a snake, striking out in his dying moment to land one last venomous bite. But what if she believed it, when it was the furthest thing from the truth? When she wassoeasy to love, I couldn’t remember why we were keeping this marriage fake anymore. So easy to love, I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
I knew Charlie, though. I could tell her over and over again that she was easy to love, and she’d smile and nod like she was listening, but she wouldn’t believe me. Greg had shown her in so many ways over the years that he believed she was a difficult person and that it took hard work for him to love her.
I needed to show her the opposite. Loving her felt like blinking, breathing, eating, drinking.
Loving Charlie was instinct.
