Show Me How
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“If I’m not here to pick you up, then I’m still at the garage working on your car. I’ll get your number from Grey and text you so you have mine in case I’m not here.”
Charlie still looked like I was speaking some foreign language to her, like she didn’t believe this was happening as she turned and walked into Mama’s. I didn’t blame her. I was still trying to make sense of it myself.
It wasn’t until Grey sent me Charlie’s number twenty minutes later, and I automatically sent Charlie a message from my regular phone, that it clicked.
I hadn’t once thought about adding Charlie’s number to Candy. I hadn’t even used Candy other than to talk to Words since the wedding. Actually, I hadn’t used it for its designated purpose for almost a week before that.
From the day I’d walked into Mama’s Café and found that journal, I’d been so consumed with Words that I hadn’t had sex in nearly two weeks. On top of that I’d been trying to apologize to Charlie for how I’d treated her, and somehow . . . somehow those two things had started affecting how I now saw her.
Charlie—Charlie of all people. A girl I’d never looked twice at, I now couldn’t stop thinking about, and I now had no doubt that it was because I’d gone from having sex nearly every day to not at all. Because I was addicted to a girl who was real, but would never be real to me. And now I knew I needed to put an end to this before I did something that ruined fucking everything.
Chapter Ten
Charlie
June 11, 2016
I CHECKED MY phone for what had to be the twentieth time since I’d last tried calling him, and after looking out into the parking lot once more, called Deacon again. But like the first two times, it just rang until his voice mail eventually picked up. And again I hung up without leaving a message.
It was one thing to be ten or fifteen minutes late, it was even okay to be twenty minutes late if there was traffic on the freeway. You know, if we had freeways or traffic in Thatch. But even then, you expected a call or a text from the person you were waiting on explaining why they were late. That’s what normal people did anyway. Normal people probably also only waited for about fifteen minutes before leaving.
I was the idiot waiting for Deacon for nearly an hour and a half, sure that he would be coming in “just a couple minutes.” I could’ve walked the length of the town multiple times in that amount of time.
My fingers drummed agitatedly on the table I was sitting at in Mama’s, and I wondered again what I was doing sitting there.
I had nothing to go home to at the moment. Keith was at the babysitter’s house. Jagger and Grey were already on their trip to Seattle. I could have spent the time possibly messaging Stranger, but every time I’d gone to message him I’d told myself that Deacon would show up as soon as I did, and I knew I wouldn’t want to give up talking to Stranger so soon.
With one last look around the café, I slid out from the corner booth and finally left. After a quick scan around the parking lot to be sure I didn’t see my car or Deacon’s, I started walking in the direction of Danny’s Garage.
My chest tightened uncomfortably when I passed by and found it deserted. A sign hanging on the door stated they were closed and, being a Saturday, had been for hours. Instead of calling Deacon again or turning around, I continued on in the direction of Deacon and Graham’s house.
I kept thinking of different scenarios as I walked. Most of them began with me being the one to find out that something had happened to him; the others with Deacon apologizing over and over again for forgetting to pick me up, and showing me in more ways than with just his words how sorry he was.
Irrational, betraying heart.
Those scenarios made my eyes roll, and left me rethinking tonight altogether. Like I’d told Deacon, I was so sure that the minute I agreed to spend time with him, I would find out this was nothing more than one huge joke to him. What I hadn’t said was that I’d been afraid that’s what I would find out.
The more Deacon had forced himself into my life lately, the harder it had been to ignore that I liked when he did it. I liked knowing that when I walked away, he couldn’t help but follow me. I liked knowing that when I tried to leave, he would do everything to keep me to stay. And I liked the way he couldn’t seem to figure out what to say when he was around me.
And, damn him, I liked the way he was with my son. For someone who claimed to hate kids, he always knew what to say and do with Keith.
No one else would have thought to cover the ladybugs on the kid’s menu at Mama’s.
I still didn’t understand the sudden change in him, and that made me want to guard my heart and myself. Because I knew all it would take was Deacon proving to me that he was nothing more than Deacon Carver to make me regret ever letting my guard down—even for a second.
The sound of a sultry female laugh caused me to do a double take just as I was rounding the corner onto Deacon and Graham’s driveway, and I stumbled to a stop. I wanted to turn around and run, but couldn’t stop looking at what was happening in front of me.
Deacon was shirtless and buttoning his pants, and the girl I’d heard laughing had pulled him close to kiss him before walking toward her car.
My stomach sank and chest ached. As much as I wanted to make myself believe that I’d come in at the wrong time and was taking what I was seeing the wrong way, I knew I wasn’t. I’d waited for him, I’d let myself believe that maybe . . .
That was the problem.
I’d let my mind run wild with the possibilities of what could be with a guy like Deacon. One huge joke to him, or not, Deacon Carver obviously hadn’t changed. I wouldn’t waste my time waiting around to see if he ever would, and I refused to let myself fall into a place where I allowed myself to be another girl that Deacon would never remember.
I wrapped an arm around my waist and took two hesitant steps back as the girl’s voice floated over to me.
“I had fun. Call me,” she said over her shoulder as she slid into her car, but got too busy checking her face in the mirror to realize that Deacon never responded.
Not wanting to be found staring at them like some deranged, lovesick girl, I turned around and headed home as fast as my legs would take me without breaking into a run. I hated that my vision kept blurring, because I knew Deacon wasn’t worth my tears, but it was hard to stop them.
Charlie still looked like I was speaking some foreign language to her, like she didn’t believe this was happening as she turned and walked into Mama’s. I didn’t blame her. I was still trying to make sense of it myself.
It wasn’t until Grey sent me Charlie’s number twenty minutes later, and I automatically sent Charlie a message from my regular phone, that it clicked.
I hadn’t once thought about adding Charlie’s number to Candy. I hadn’t even used Candy other than to talk to Words since the wedding. Actually, I hadn’t used it for its designated purpose for almost a week before that.
From the day I’d walked into Mama’s Café and found that journal, I’d been so consumed with Words that I hadn’t had sex in nearly two weeks. On top of that I’d been trying to apologize to Charlie for how I’d treated her, and somehow . . . somehow those two things had started affecting how I now saw her.
Charlie—Charlie of all people. A girl I’d never looked twice at, I now couldn’t stop thinking about, and I now had no doubt that it was because I’d gone from having sex nearly every day to not at all. Because I was addicted to a girl who was real, but would never be real to me. And now I knew I needed to put an end to this before I did something that ruined fucking everything.
Chapter Ten
Charlie
June 11, 2016
I CHECKED MY phone for what had to be the twentieth time since I’d last tried calling him, and after looking out into the parking lot once more, called Deacon again. But like the first two times, it just rang until his voice mail eventually picked up. And again I hung up without leaving a message.
It was one thing to be ten or fifteen minutes late, it was even okay to be twenty minutes late if there was traffic on the freeway. You know, if we had freeways or traffic in Thatch. But even then, you expected a call or a text from the person you were waiting on explaining why they were late. That’s what normal people did anyway. Normal people probably also only waited for about fifteen minutes before leaving.
I was the idiot waiting for Deacon for nearly an hour and a half, sure that he would be coming in “just a couple minutes.” I could’ve walked the length of the town multiple times in that amount of time.
My fingers drummed agitatedly on the table I was sitting at in Mama’s, and I wondered again what I was doing sitting there.
I had nothing to go home to at the moment. Keith was at the babysitter’s house. Jagger and Grey were already on their trip to Seattle. I could have spent the time possibly messaging Stranger, but every time I’d gone to message him I’d told myself that Deacon would show up as soon as I did, and I knew I wouldn’t want to give up talking to Stranger so soon.
With one last look around the café, I slid out from the corner booth and finally left. After a quick scan around the parking lot to be sure I didn’t see my car or Deacon’s, I started walking in the direction of Danny’s Garage.
My chest tightened uncomfortably when I passed by and found it deserted. A sign hanging on the door stated they were closed and, being a Saturday, had been for hours. Instead of calling Deacon again or turning around, I continued on in the direction of Deacon and Graham’s house.
I kept thinking of different scenarios as I walked. Most of them began with me being the one to find out that something had happened to him; the others with Deacon apologizing over and over again for forgetting to pick me up, and showing me in more ways than with just his words how sorry he was.
Irrational, betraying heart.
Those scenarios made my eyes roll, and left me rethinking tonight altogether. Like I’d told Deacon, I was so sure that the minute I agreed to spend time with him, I would find out this was nothing more than one huge joke to him. What I hadn’t said was that I’d been afraid that’s what I would find out.
The more Deacon had forced himself into my life lately, the harder it had been to ignore that I liked when he did it. I liked knowing that when I walked away, he couldn’t help but follow me. I liked knowing that when I tried to leave, he would do everything to keep me to stay. And I liked the way he couldn’t seem to figure out what to say when he was around me.
And, damn him, I liked the way he was with my son. For someone who claimed to hate kids, he always knew what to say and do with Keith.
No one else would have thought to cover the ladybugs on the kid’s menu at Mama’s.
I still didn’t understand the sudden change in him, and that made me want to guard my heart and myself. Because I knew all it would take was Deacon proving to me that he was nothing more than Deacon Carver to make me regret ever letting my guard down—even for a second.
The sound of a sultry female laugh caused me to do a double take just as I was rounding the corner onto Deacon and Graham’s driveway, and I stumbled to a stop. I wanted to turn around and run, but couldn’t stop looking at what was happening in front of me.
Deacon was shirtless and buttoning his pants, and the girl I’d heard laughing had pulled him close to kiss him before walking toward her car.
My stomach sank and chest ached. As much as I wanted to make myself believe that I’d come in at the wrong time and was taking what I was seeing the wrong way, I knew I wasn’t. I’d waited for him, I’d let myself believe that maybe . . .
That was the problem.
I’d let my mind run wild with the possibilities of what could be with a guy like Deacon. One huge joke to him, or not, Deacon Carver obviously hadn’t changed. I wouldn’t waste my time waiting around to see if he ever would, and I refused to let myself fall into a place where I allowed myself to be another girl that Deacon would never remember.
I wrapped an arm around my waist and took two hesitant steps back as the girl’s voice floated over to me.
“I had fun. Call me,” she said over her shoulder as she slid into her car, but got too busy checking her face in the mirror to realize that Deacon never responded.
Not wanting to be found staring at them like some deranged, lovesick girl, I turned around and headed home as fast as my legs would take me without breaking into a run. I hated that my vision kept blurring, because I knew Deacon wasn’t worth my tears, but it was hard to stop them.
