About Time (Broken Vows #4)

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hattie Past- Age 26

The house is teeming with people. So many I have to take refuge in the backyard to avoid all the sympathy. Every minute inside, Wren and I are under a microscope. All those eyes studying us, trying to gauge if we’re sad enough, and cataloging our every move to discuss ad nauseam in line at the pharmacy for the next week.

After shaking too many hands, and accepting too many thoughts and prayers, I’m completely spent. My soul is crying because I am unable to start grieving with all of these people here watching like I’m some kind of exhibit. It’s laughable because they’re the ones putting on the show with their performative grief.

Right now they’re all inside talking over each other trying to see who has the best story about Elisa and Martin. I think they get bonus points if they make each other cry. I don’t need to share my sadness with the town for it to be real. I’ll feel this long after they’ve moved on with their lives. I don’t fault them for that either. It’s the way the world works. There’s only so much room to hurt, you can’t hold on to other people’s pain indefinitely.

I lean back on my elbows. The top of the picnic table is smooth with years of use. The night is still warm, with a heavy blanket of humidity pressing down on me. Fireflies dance on the edges of the yard. It’s like any other night. If I close my eyes I can pretend the voices I hear aren’t people here for the funeral, but that it’s just another one of the barbecues Martin loved to throw.

I sit like that for several minutes. I’m in no rush to go back inside and comfort others. I know we’re all mourning Elisa and Martin. They have been such big parts of this community, that their loss will be felt here for months, or even years. For me though, I’m going to feel this hole for the rest of my life. It’s not the same. I’m tired of pretending that we’re all grieving. They’re sad, while I’m devastated.

The wood creaks and I feel the table shift a little under me as someone joins me. I swallow a groan and try to channel my sister. She was the consummate hostess. I will never come close to having her social grace.

“Hiding, Doll?”

Hearing Charlie’s gravelly voice makes me crack open my eyes. “I’m tired of the town trying to outdo each other to see who is the saddest.”

He sits with his legs spread and his forearms resting on his thickly muscled thighs. It’s really not fair that he gets better-looking the older he gets. I know thirty-six isn’t old, but at some point, he needs to start looking cragged or something to let my heart have a break. Seeing how close Wren is to Liam Hale, I don’t think it would be fair for me to pack her up and move her to Florida. She’s lost enough. Anything more would send her over the edge. Which means Charlie is going to be around. Liam is his godson after all.

Coming back here doesn’t change shit, unfortunately. I’m still just as weak where he’s concerned as I was at nineteen. I’d like to say if he starts issuing demands that I’d turn him down in some dramatic fashion, but I’m not exactly at the top of my game right now.

“What can I do to help you?” There’s a lot of sincerity in his voice, and I know he’s hurting as well. Charlie feels a lot more than he’s given credit for, just not enough to make a relationship stick.

I look back up to the stars and speak as if casting a wish up to the heavens. “Can you distract me? What I want most of all is to stop thinking for a while.”

He chews his lip, and I can see he’s conflicted about something. “No new tricks, only old ones.”

I bolt upright and gawk at him with my mouth hanging open. Part of me wants to rail at him for the past, the present, and where we could have been if he hadn’t broken us. Too many emotions and thoughts race through my body at the same time, far too many for me to say anything coherent. It takes me a moment before I can put them in any kind of order that makes sense.

“Not that it isn’t intriguing, but it’s not a great idea. We tried the whole casual thing last time and it didn’t work then, and I don’t think the last six years changed that.”

He turns his head to the side, and I can tell that my words have barely made a scratch in his mood. His brown eyes still smolder as he studies me. “You’re right, I should walk away right now. I could pretend that I’m here for you alone. Pretend that all I want to do is hold you while you cry.”

“So you don’t want to do that?” I ask him.

There’s a long pause while I wait for him to answer. He studies my face, then lifts a hand and tucks an errant strand behind my ear. “I want it too much. I still refuse to anchor you to this town forever, but we can be there for each other right now. Martin and Elisa were only thirty-eight. They should have had more time, but they really lived for the time they did have. I need to do more of that.”

“And you want to do that with me?” I’m still so confused about what he’s suggesting.

His eyes scorch me with their intensity. “I’ve never stopped.”

I stand up and turn to face him. “You give me whiplash. I’m your ex-wife. You don’t have a funeral fling with your ex-wife.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rise. “A funeral fling?”

I roll my eyes. “You know, the cliché where funerals make people horny because they are reminded to live. I loved you, Charlie, but I won’t let myself go back there. I lost everything when you pushed me away. My pride tells me not to admit that to you, but I worked really damn hard not to be that woman anymore. I won’t let you bring her back.”

That seems like the best mic drop moment I’m going to get here, so I spin around and start to stroll away. I don’t make it very far before he grabs my hand and pulls me back into him.

His large hand cradles the side of my face, and he stares deep into my eyes. There’s a silent conversation happening there. He’s giving me time to pull away if I meant what I just said. That’s the thing. I wanted to mean every word, but my head and my heart are in disagreement right now.

The nights right after I left town, I thought that if I ever got to be with Charlie again, even one more time, I’d take it. Now, I don’t know if it’s fear, self-preservation, or just being smart, but I want to walk away from him.

Mentally, at least. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, all I want is to let him hold me. No, that’s a lie. What I want is to surrender to him completely and let him take away the pain for just a little while.

As bad as it was to lose him, I survived it. I don’t know if I’m going to make it through the loss of my sister. Charlie has always been a powerful diversion.

“What do you want from me?” I ask softly.

“I want us to live, even for a little while. As long as you’re here, I want you to lean on me.”

“Whatever you say, Sir,” I whisper.

“If you mean that, come over later tonight,” he says.

I know I’m stupid for opening the door to this again, but I can’t help myself. Right now, I need to figure out a way to keep breathing. If Charlie can carry part of this with me, even for a little while, I will let him.