About Time (Broken Vows #4)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Hattie Past- Age 19

I never saw myself carrying out some kind of torrid affair, especially not at nineteen. Yet, I couldn’t have imagined I’d actually have a chance with Charlie Storm either. When your love interest is a friend of your sister and brother-in-law, you have to learn to bend your definition of the truth.

When someone asks if I’m seeing someone, I tell them no. Because I’m not in the sense that we actually leave the house and do any activity that involves standing, that is unless he takes me against the wall. That’s pretty much the extent of our activities on our feet.

If I’m asked if I’m in a relationship that’s much easier to answer. I don’t know what Charlie and I are, but I am sure we are not in a relationship. He’s driven that point home many times. We are exclusively fucking, but I imagine if I wanted to go on a date with another guy that would be fine. Just as long as there wasn’t any sex. Not that I’ve asked, because I am not interested in anyone else.

I wish my sister would accept that. I’ve told her that I’m focusing on school, that I haven’t met anyone I liked, that I don’t want to get tied down, but she bats every excuse away. I’ve mostly been lucky enough to untangle myself from her matchmaking efforts. That’s probably why she stopped asking me.

Summer is half over, and Charlie and I have been whatever we are for the last six weeks. I think he expected me to walk away after our first night together. I won’t lie, it was a lot to take in. There was a part of me that knew I should be demanding more, but the reality was that I wanted him however I could have him, and for as long as I could have him. Maybe that’s pathetic, but the need I feel for him is maddening. It’s like having a fever in my soul. I burn for him.

I’m fully aware of how painfully na?ve and romantic that makes me sound. When I’m with Charlie I bury that shit down to the deepest pit of my soul, but I recognize I’m growing more attached to him than I should. I find myself fantasizing about a future that will never happen. One where he admits that he feels more for me than me making his dick hard. In this fantasy, we build a life together.

The only thing I know for sure is that when September comes around I’ll be leaving Harriston with a broken heart. That should give me pause enough to really think about what we’re doing, but I know as much as it is going to hurt to walk away it is worth all the pain. I’ll have this summer to hold close for the rest of my life because he really is a storm, destructive and necessary.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I practically jump a foot in the air.

“It’s just me,” Elisa says. “Damn, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come in. You were standing there deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”

A nervous giggle escapes me. “Nothing. I was just zoning out. What’s going on?”

She traces an invisible pattern into the carpet with her toes. “I know you came over to watch Wren for Martin and me to go out, but it turns out that we’re going to stay in and have some friends over.”

My brow scrunches together. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll just head out then.” I gather my little backpack purse and wonder if I could casually swing by Charlie’s or if that would be too clingy.

Elisa reaches out, takes my bag off my shoulder, and sets it back down on the end table in the living room. “Well, see I was thinking you could just stay. One of the guys that Martin works with at the hospital is only a little older than you. He just turned twenty-one, and you’ll be twenty in a few months.”

I groan. “Lis, I really don’t want you to set me up.”

She’s not listening to me. Nothing short of, “Please find me the love of my life so I can start planning a wedding and babies,” is going to sink into her stubborn head.

Case in point, she waves me off. “I didn’t say you had to marry the guy. You don’t even have to go on a date with him. Would it kill you to meet him though?”

“No, but it could kill him,” I mumble.

“What was that?” she asks. As usual, she’s multitasking. During this entire conversation, she’s fussing with the pillows on the sofa, trying to get them to have that perfect divot on the top.

“I said, ‘No, probably not,’” I lie. It probably wouldn’t. Charlie would have to be jealous enough to do something and that would only happen if there was anything more between us than kinky sex.

Elisa gives me one of her sunshine smiles. “Thanks, Hattie. I just don’t want you waiting to live. Life is happening right now. You can’t put it off until everything is perfect. If you do, you might not get a chance to live it.”

After mom died young Elisa took on this mantra. Hell, I think it was back when she first got sick. That led Lis to marrying Martin right after high school and having Wren only a couple of years later. It’s like there’s an hourglass over her head, and she knows the sand is running out.

A shiver wracks my body. I hate when I go negative like that. I’ve got a bad habit of fatalistic thinking. I don’t think I’m alone in that though. Elisa wouldn’t live like each day could be her last if she believed in a happily ever after. Maybe that’s why I’m racing headfirst into heartbreak because at least I’ll be able to say that I lived.

I try to calm my nerves. Charlie probably won’t even care. There’s a wicked voice whispering to me that maybe he will care and that he will finally speak up. That’s just another example of my fanciful thinking.

I shut down my overactive mind, and let Elisa fuss with my hair and makeup. Thankfully the clothing that I chose before coming over is acceptable to my sister, or I’d really be her full-grown Barbie. Once again I’m only wearing a normal tank top and jeans, but we’re both wash and wear girls. Usually at least. Right now she’s buffing, plucking, and generally pestering the shit out of me.

Like clockwork, the front door opens, and the cheerful squeal of Wren sounds through the house as she races to greet her dad as he comes in from work. I smile to myself. This must be the type of family Norman Rockwell pictured when he painted his idyllic scenes of life in America. I’m happy my sister found someone as solid and loving as Martin Parker. I can only hope to be half as lucky one day.

His footsteps thump a steady cadence as he climbs the stairs to complete his nightly ritual. Step one, hug Wren, has been completed, now it’s time to give his wife an embarrassingly long and deep kiss. It’s only embarrassing because he doesn’t give a shit who is around when he does it. The moment he sees her, it’s like he can’t help himself. Like I said, my sister is a lucky bitch.

“Look at this, all my girls in one place,” he says cheerfully. “Artie will be here in about an hour. Is there anything you need me to help with?” He’s talking to Elisa, but one part of that alerted all my alarms.

“You are trying to set me up with a guy named Artie?” I ask incredulously.

Elisa does that thing where her head drops to the side, and her brows both come up. That look is both a question and an admonishment at the same time. I wonder if they teach new moms to do that in the hospital, or if it’s something that’s passed down from mother to daughter. If it is, how will I ever lecture my kids with one look?

“Really Hattie, what does it matter if he has a cool name or not?” she asks me.

In a mocking tone I say, “Hey everybody, this is my boyfriend Artie. Don’t worry, he’s not an old man, he just has an old man’s name.”

Elisa chooses to ignore me after that. Probably because she knows I’m right. At least I’ll have a valid reason to reject this guy. No way am I going to become Mrs. Artie What’s-his-face.

At least she’s stopped poking at me with different makeup brushes and pencils. The ironic part was how much she kept telling me that I’m a natural beauty the more she added shit to my face. I don’t know how natural I can be with a pound of junk hiding my skin, but I’ll take her word for it.

I take the opportunity to take a drink of my Pepsi that has been sitting on the vanity taunting me. That first drink is always the best. No matter how big of an addict I am, my taste buds still register the bite with the first drink. I’m so focused on enjoying my caffeine goodness, that it takes me a second to register what Martin is saying.

“I invited Charlie over earlier. I ran into him as I was leaving the hospital. He was there with Griffin. Liam stuck something up his nose,” he says.

That delicious swallow of cola I had taken works its way down the wrong pipe as I simultaneously gasp with my bad luck. I’ve got dribbles of soda down my face, and I’ve lost the ability to breathe. This might be how I die, but at this moment I’m okay with that because that means that I won’t have to be set up on a date in front of the man who regularly treats me like a doll while fucking me.

If this doesn’t kill me I might just go play in traffic.

“You should drink less soda,” Elisa tells me.

To be fair I’ve been a vibrating ball of nervous energy since Martin dropped the bomb that Charlie is coming to dinner. I’m sure they just think I’m actually excited to meet this poor dude with an old man’s name.

Right on time there’s a knock on the door. “He even comes to a dinner party like an old man,” I grumble as I go to open the door.

I could protest about opening the door, but Elisa would suddenly have something critically important to take care of in the kitchen if I didn’t volunteer, so I figure, I might as well save us both the hassle.

There’s more relentless knocking, and I quicken my steps down the hallway to let him in. “The sooner this starts, the sooner it can end,” I’m mumbling to myself as I open the door.

“Trying to get rid of me that fast, Doll?” Charlie’s deep voice rolls over me.

I have to stop myself from swaying toward him. Just the sound of his voice is enough to make me ready to follow any direction he has.

The fake smile I forced thinking I was opening the door to Artie slips off. I look behind me before paying more attention to Charlie. Lowering my voice, I say, “Hey.”

Lame, I know. This man makes my brain short-circuit.

He chuckles, and it sounds rich and full like the first sip of whiskey. “I haven’t even stepped inside and you’re ready to get rid of me already?”

“Not you, although it is going to be weird with you here now.” I roll my eyes, trying to act nonchalant, and not let on that I’m in the middle of an internal freakout right now.

Charlie looks down the hall to make sure we’re still alone before he cages me against the wall. “What do you mean not me?”

I gulp, somehow feeling like I’ve royally fucked up, even though I’m not the one who invited some guy over. “Martin and Elisa think I really need to meet some coworker of Martin’s.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow, and the vein in his head starts to bulge. I thought I’d enjoy the signs of him getting jealous more, but right now I’m picturing scraping together bail money after he beats some poor nerd, and it’s just not as sexy as I’d thought.

“Explain,” he says tersely.

“Just what I said. Elisa sprung it on me an hour ago that she’d invited some dude over. I thought I was babysitting Wren for them tonight, but she tricked me.”

His hand slides up to my neck, and he squeezes enough to let me know he expects the truth. “You have known for an hour that you were going to be on a date with another man, and you didn’t call me?”

“How would I have done that? I don’t have a cell phone. What should I have done, grab the house phone and call you? That would have gone over great if they’d caught me. Probably better than if they walk over here right now,” I remind him.

Just like I thought, my words go over like a bucket of ice water. He instantly drops his hand and takes a step back. He hasn’t gained full control yet though. His jaw ticks as the muscle rolls over the joint. His voice is still low, but I can hear the irritation loud and clear. “You and I are going to have a talk about the rules when I get you alone.”

I smirk at him, because I realize that I can tease him right now, and there’s nothing he can do about it. “Yes, Sir,” I quip.

Absolutely the wrong thing for me to say. Or maybe exactly the right thing.

“Fuck,” he growls quietly, and pulls me into the hall closet.

It’s a tight fit, but it’s surprisingly deep. His mouth slams against mine in a kiss that is equal parts battle and sensual exploration. I’m not even sure kiss is the right word for what he does. He’s devouring me, and like everything else he does, I let him.

Once he’s sucked all the sense straight from my head he opens the closet and nudges me out. Before I fully exit the tiny space he slaps my ass. “Remember who you belong to. I expect you to shoot this asshole down.”

Just like that, my hackles go up. For some reason, totally uncharacteristic of my normal personality, I love when he tells me what to do. Not this time though. I spin on him, my hair flying around me. “I thought we were only sex? As long as I don’t let him touch me, I can do whatever I want.”

I start to walk away, prematurely patting myself on the back for managing to get in the last word. He grabs my hair, and holds me in place. I can feel the heat of his body as he moves behind me. There’s a creepy stillness surrounding us. I hear the snick of the door closing. Then the hand he has in my hair tugs to tip my head back until I’m looking at him somewhat upside down.

“Maybe we need to revise the rules,” he says, like he is mad at himself. For what, I don’t know. Maybe he’s mad he feels anything for me at all.

“About what?” I breathe out.

“The fact that you are mine. In the bedroom you can be my toy, but outside you are just mine.”

“Don’t play with me, Charlie,” my voice wavers.

I can see his mouth quirk up at my choice of words. “But I love to play with you, Doll. As much as I tried to fight it, I want more.”

“Do you mean it?” I ask, girlish hope in my voice.

“Lord help me, I do. I wish I didn’t. It would be so much better for you if I wanted nothing to do with you, but I’m a selfish asshole.”

I smile at him, and it must soothe the raging beast because he lets me go. “You behave when the jackass gets here,” he warns me. “What’s his name anyway?”

I roll my eyes. “Artie.”

“What is he eighty?” Charlie asks.

I can’t help but giggle. Once again we’re on the same wavelength.