Page 14 of Unraveling Charlotte

“Who taught you that word?” Tate asks around another mouthful of food.

I already know where this is going. The two of them have more of a sibling relationship than we do, and I secretly love it. Sometimes, I feel as though we missed out on that dynamic. I am the only parent he will ever know, even though we are siblings, but when Tate shows up and they bicker back and forth, I don’t feel like he’s missing out.

“All right,” I interrupt them, knowing I need to get out of here on time if Sal is trying for drinks again. “I should go. Milo’s bedtime is eight-thirty, no later. A shower is nonnegotiable, since you didn’t get one last night because of the movie, so don’t even try to convince Tate otherwise.” I turn to my friend, catching her mouthing something to Milo. “Don’t you dare,” I scold her, not even knowing what she mouthed to him.

Tate tosses her arms up, her smile genuine and full of peace that makes me slightly jealous. “Yes, Mom.”

“Couch is yours. Extra linens are in the closet, or you can sleep in my bed with me.” I already know what she will choose, but I like to make sure she knows she has choices.

“Leftie is mine,” she replies, letting me know I’ll find her in my bed on the left side, which just so happens to be the side closest to the wall.

“Girls are strange,” Milo states.

“Aww, you say that now, but in a few years, your thoughts might change.” Tatum reaches across the table and ruffles his hair before returning to her burger. “Get out of here, Charlotte. We are good.”

It’s the perfect segue when Albert makes his presence known by sauntering into the kitchen like a king and letting out the cutest little squeak. It almost makes up for the hell he put me through today. I’m more annoyed he got to nap, though, and I didn’t.

“Charlotte.” Tate turns to the kitten and blinks. “There is a piece of walking lint in your kitchen.”

“There is.” Taking it as my cue to go, I kiss Milo on his forehead, avoiding his hair. “See you later, my little tater tot.”

“I will be asleep,” Milo replies with all the logic of a child.

“A kitten.” Tatum simmers in her shock.

That’s when I choose to leave her. “Don’t burn the house down,” I warn like always and gather my things at the front door.

The sun slips below the horizon, even though it’s only six in the evening. It feels wrong, even though I know it’s normal.

It’s the worst part about fall, almost like an omen that we can’t avoid during winter and the long, cold nights. The best part is the snow.

Grabbing my beanie and purse, I exit our home and lock the door behind me. Peeking out of my peripheral, I scan Jani’s house, ensuring she isn’t there, before I spin around and dart down my steps.

Mr. Benson is in for the night as well, even though several other neighbors remain on their porches, chattering away despite the cold. I often wonder what the actual population of the town is. Sometimes, it seems so much bigger than it is, and other times, it looks smaller.

Lenora reminds me so much of Salem in that strange, eerie, gothic way. It has one main street with many quaint little stores that most wouldn’t find in large cities. My personal favorite is the apothecary. It has an old-world charm, with multiple mason jars full of teas for healing and incense.

Then there is the little bookstore where the owner hand picks the books to sell and matches them with the residents. She’s given me multiple books that I’ve fallen in love with.

Lenora has a history that I haven’t had time to dive into yet. When we first arrived here a couple of years ago, it was the only thing on my mind until life took over, but now my skin itches to learn all her mysteries and the secret history I know that lingers just out of reach.

Lenora isn’t so big that we all get lost inside her streets. Sure, there are people I haven’t met and some I never will. With a population under ten thousand, it’s impossible to meet every single person, but I guarantee that if I did, they’d all have the same greeting with a charming smile on their faces.

As Walnut Street spills onto Main Street and I turn right toward The Tulip, a chill ghosts over me, almost stopping me in my tracks. The hair on the nape of my neck stands up, and I struggle not to dart toward the diner and instead look around me.

The streetlights cast a warm glow over the sidewalks, and the trees lining the sidewalk loom over me with their brightly colored leaves. Nothing appears out of the ordinary, yet I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

The feeling creates an uncomfortable itch under my skin, reminding me of when child protective services watched my every move. For almost a year, they breathed down my neck. It’s a memory that doesn’t exactly go away with time, and one that simmers at the forefront of my mind like a bad dream.

It’s all feeling and no logic.

As I peer across the street, past the median, to the opposite side, where a large Victorian towers over Main Street, I swear I see someone. A shadow moves behind a tree, then I blink, and there’s nothing there.

Probably just a tree branch.

Shaking off the odd feeling, I focus on my steps and head toward The Tulip for my quick shift. That’s my only saving grace for the night when Sal asks us to pick up a shift—he covers half. I don’t know how he manages it, but he doesn’t want us to feel overworked.

I appreciate it, but I know he struggles.

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