Page 50 of The Rookie

“And the winner is Charlie Baxter,” the judge says and holds Charlie’s arm in the air. She smiles from ear to ear, but it falters when she sees me standing next to my cousin.

“Is that little Charlie Baxter all grown up?” Les asks, and gives a low slow whistle. “Wow, I think I need to talk to her.”

“No, you don’t.”

He grins at me, and rips my ballcap from my head. “What, are you into her or something?”

“Or something,” I say and snatch my hat back before he can put it on.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” He laughs like this is all a big joke. “Little miss coveralls is not your style, dude.” He glances at Breton as she walks by and eyes me, and a horrible, uneasy feeling mushrooms in my gut.

Before I can answer, Charlie comes walking over, a shiny trophy in her hand. “That’s really something to be proud of,Charlie,” Breton calls out, emphasizing her name.

Charlie’s footsteps still for a second, and her smile falters. Fucking Breton. She has no right to make Charlie feel bad about her accomplishments or her name.

“You did great,” I say, and hold my hand out to her. She comes closer, and I put my arm around her. My cousin shakes his head, clearly confused. What he doesn’t realize is Charlie is ten—one hundred—times the woman Breton will ever be. She’s kind and generous, and open and giving, and would never purposely hurt anyone, or use anyone to get ahead.

“Little Charlie Baxter,” Les says and my skin crawls as he gives her a once over. I’m about to stand in between them, but Charlie can hold her own.

I glance at Charlie and wave my hand toward Les. “This is my cousin, Les.”

“Wow, you two look a lot alike,” she says.

“I thought you didn’t know each other,” I say. “But Les here seems to know you.”

“I don’t know him,” she says quickly, and for the first time, I sense something is off, that she might not be telling me the truth.

“Come on,Charlotte,” Les says. “How could you ever forget the guy who nicknamed you Charlie.” He snorts. “Got everyone else to do it too, until it stuck.”

Her jaw drops open and her gaze goes from Les, to me, back to Les. “That was you?” She blinks, her mouth opening and closing, incredulously. “I don’t get it. How was that you? The guys were all calling you Wes.”

As the pieces of the puzzle begin to click into place, I shake my head. “Jesus. Les was here for a few weeks while I was away at camp. I’m guessing you thought he was me, and they were calling him Les, not Wes. He’s Lester. after his grandfather. I’m Weston. after mine. I can see why you made the mistake.”

She nods her eyes wide as she glares at Les. “You’re the guy who ridiculed me, asked me if I signed up for the wrong team because I hadn’t developed boobs yet.”

He grins, like he’s proud of it. “I see things have changed.” His gaze drops to her chest, and fury rips through me. I’m about to stand between them, punch my cousin in the mouth, when Charlie puts her hand on me to stop me.

“What you did was mean. You know what’s worse. All this time I thought it was Wes.” She turns to me. “I avoided you for years after that. Whenever you came into the Lobster Pound, I hid out back. I’m sorry I ever thought you were like that. After running into you this time, and getting to know you, none of it made sense.” She turns to Jules and she’s smiling and nodding in understanding. “I told Jules about it, and even she couldn’t believe it was true. I’m sorry, Wes. I should have known better.”

“That’s why you hated me.” I snort. “I get it. I would have hated me too.”

“So, do you want to punch him, or do you want me to?” she says deadpan, but I catch the gleam in her eye.

“I think you should.”

“Hey wait, what?” Les says, putting his hands up and inching back. “If you think I’m letting a girl punch me and I’m not going to punch back, you’re wrong.”

“See. Asshole,” I say as I look at Charlie. “Told you.” I turn to Les. “You won’t have a chance to punch back. Charlie’s just won a shucking contest that takes skill and strength. She carries bins of lobster twice the size of her, and can outperform any one of these fishermen on a fishing boat. But you have to the count of three to decide what you want to do.” I pause, so proud of Charlie, so happy she knows I’d never treat her with disrespect, and then begin counting. “One…two…”

Les takes off running and I throw my arm around Charlie, and we all laugh.

She shakes her head. “All this time I thought it was you.”

“Yet you still…” I wink at her. “You know.”

“Well, you are a famous NHL player, and I needed that notch on my bedpost,” she teases.

We all laugh, but a weird sensation grips my stomach. That’s not how she really sees me, right? God, Breton must have really gotten under my skin for me to be questioning everything.

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