Page 84 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
She bit her lip as she concentrated on slotting two ends together. She raised her wrist to push back a stray piece of hair. It was a rare, gorgeous sunny day, probably one of the last. The mossy ground squelched as I readjusted my elbows, but it was soft and surprisingly comfortable. Some songbirds who still hadn’t flown south for the winter chirped from the trees.
“What do you think? Is it slotted tight enough?” She stood straight and surveyed her hard work, taking my breath away. I was never going to get used to the idea of Charlie Savage all grown up and beautiful and married to me.
Mine.
“Perfect,” I said, not looking at our shelter, but she grinned and went back to work on it. “I could come help!”
“Not yet. You promised you’d sit still for three whole days,” she said.
I shifted uneasily. I was used to being the person who helped everyone, not the one who needed to be helped. I needed to be useful, and not because I was trying to beessential. If Ibecameessential through the effort, though, then whatever. Didn’t mean that was my goal. “I hate not helping you.”
She walked toward me and loomed with folded arms. I tugged her onto my lap, and she fell with a squeal, throwing her arms around my shoulders. “Your ankle.”
“Forget my ankle. It’s fine. I promise.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You could never hurt me, Charlie.”Lies.Charlie had the power to hurt me more than anyone.
“Why are you so restless today?”
She felt slight in my grip. She wasn’t getting enough to eat. Without me hunting, we were relying on her fishing for all our food. There was more than one way to lose a person, and I needed to get up and moving.
“I don’t like sitting around while other people are working.”
Her fingers absently played with the button on my shirt, unhooking it and sliding it back into place. “I like taking care of you.”
“I know.” I tightened my hold on her. “You’re a nurturing person.”
“I am.” Out and in, my button went through my shirt, her fingers a flurry of action. “But I particularly like taking care ofyou, Ben.”
“Because I’m such a handsome patient,” I teased.
“Because you always take care of everyone else, but it doesn’t always have to be one-sided.” She pushed some of the wild hair back from my eyes. “I need you to know that.”
I gave her a half-smile and drew a lazy circle on her arm with my finger, gratified when she visibly swallowed.
“And I need to know it too,” she continued. “I can carry my weight.”
I gripped her arm, hating that she worried about that. She didn’t see herself the way everyone else did. “Charlie. You’re one of the most selfless people I know.”
She huffed out a skeptical laugh and ran a hand over her eyes. “I’m trying to be.”
“You’re all that’s good in this world.” I met her gaze, hoping she could read in them everything I was feeling. “And all that I want.”
Her breathing hitched, and her eyes darted back and forth between mine.
I wanted to take it slow. I wanted to make sure she knew how she felt about me. That she realized I wasn’t good enough for her but wanted to be with me anyway. Most of all, though, I wanted that kiss we’d almost had three days ago. The kiss I couldn’t stop thinking about.
And probably never would.
34
CHARLIE
I have a conundrum. I have only ever kissed Greg. And it’s nice. I like kissing. Here’s the thing, though: Bennett smiling at me sends more butterflies flapping through my stomach than every kiss of Greg’s combined. It literally makes zero sense. Especially since I know Bennett’ll never see me like that. Kissing Bennett is a fantasy, not a reality. I’m not lucky enough for that.
—from the journal of 18-year-old Charlie Savage
