Page 31 of Show Me How (Thatch 3)

Charlie’s face was etched with disbelief, and it was the only answer I needed.

“Right.” I cleared my throat and took a step back, and raised the mug in her direction. “Thanks, Charlie.”

I had barely gotten settled back into the booth before Jagger said in a low, warning tone, “Man, stay away from my sister.”

I glanced up, and everyone else at the booth was frozen and looking at either Jagger or myself . . . but Jagger wasn’t paying attention to me. His focus was on his daughter.

Just when I started to think I’d imagined his warning, and imagined everyone’s stares, he said, “I love you, Deac, but I’m so fucking serious.” His eyes finally flicked in my direction, the look in them drove home his words.

“Jagger . . .” Grey said, her voice almost too soft to hear.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked. “We were just talking.”

One of his eyebrows ticked up, a huff burst from his chest. “Yeah, I keep hearing that. As long as it stays that way, then that’s fine. I mean it; you’re like a brother. But Charlie has Keith, she doesn’t need to get involved with someone like—­”

“Jagger, stop,” Grey said, this time louder.

“Yeah, no, I got it.” I tried to laugh, but it may have come across as a sneer. One of my phones chimed then, and I didn’t even pay attention to which one it was when I pulled it out of my pocket and held it up. “Because of this, right? They call, and I go willingly.”

I downed the hot coffee as fast as I could and slid out of the booth, more than ready to get away now that no one was speaking and everyone was staring at me with a mixture of shock, confusion, and sympathy.

“See the two of you when you get back from your honeymoon,” I said to Knox and Harlow, then nodded in Grey’s direction. “When Keith wakes up, tell him I already covered up the ladybugs on the menu so they can’t take his superpowers away.” When her sympathetic expression turned confused, I said, “He’ll understand.”

I turned and nearly ran into Charlie as she carried the drink tray toward the booth.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, her eyes already darting over me. “Are you leaving?”

My mouth opened to say, “I have to go live up to my reputation,” but shut again. Instead, I simply mumbled, “Charlie Girl,” and walked past her and out of Mama’s Café.

As soon as I was back home and in bed, I opened up the conversation with Words, the journal girl, on my phone. And as I tapped out a message, I realized I needed this more than I’d thought. If the ­people I was closest to wouldn’t allow me to be anything other than this image I’d created, then at least I had this.

Words, have you ever thought about how ­people move to places like Thatch to start their lives over, but the ­people who grow up in those towns can’t start over unless they leave?

Charlie

June 9, 2016

STRANGER: AT ALL.

My jaw dropped in disbelief as I hurried to respond a few days later.

I’d spent every night since the wedding talking to Stranger, and in that time, I’d come to know him better than anyone, and he me. And sometimes it was hard to believe that he hadn’t been in my life for years, because I’d never been able to talk to anyone like I could this.

What do you mean? How can you not believe in love?

Stranger: No, I mean, I do. Just . . . not like . . . I don’t know. I love my family and my closest friends because they’re like family. But the other? I think it’s something ­people have made up over the years. It’s wants and needs and infatuations that ­people glorify into a relationship and marriage that you either stick out for your life or decide you don’t want to deal with anymore.

Stranger: I don’t think we’re meant to fall in love with someone and spend forever with them. I think the whole “the one” thing is just bullshit.

“That’s depressing,” I whispered, then tapped my words out to him.

That is incredibly depressing.

Stranger: How did I know you wouldn’t agree with me? Even after the guy from years ago that treated you the way he did, you still believe in it?

Of course I do.

I don’t think it’s always easy, and the journey to find the person you’re meant to be with can be messy, but I think there is at least one person for everyone. And I don’t say “at least” in the instance that we get bored, but if there’s a death, or something like that . . .

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