About Time (Broken Vows #4)

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hattie Past- Age 26

The first thing I notice is how hot I feel. Charlie is draped over me like some sort of man blanket and giving off enough body heat that I now have an existential dread of menopause at least twenty years before I will ever have to deal with it.

What I do have to deal with right now is the fact that my ex-husband has become an aggressive cuddler in his sleep. I nearly have to become a contortionist to squirm out of his iron hold. He has me banded to his chest with both of his arms wrapped around my chest. Charlie’s chin is on my shoulder, his warm breath tickles my neck. His leg is over mine, and of course, his morning wood is nestled in the crack of my ass. Basically, there’s not a part of me he isn’t touching like an affectionate octopus.

Six years ago I would have done anything to wake up like this. That was back when I was still strangely optimistic for a girl who had been abandoned by her father and lost her mother to cancer. My capacity to love was thanks to my sister and her husband. They’re the ones who showed me what it looked like to love with your entire heart.

Maybe someday I will get another chance to love someone that way. The man who is wrapped around me is not going to be that person for me. He could have been. I believe a big part of him wanted to be, but for reasons I will probably never understand he can’t let himself. I spent the first few years I was in Florida obsessing over what happened between us, but I can’t dwell in the past.

Losing Elisa and Martin so young, and without a warning, I’ve finally learned a painful lesson, life is happening now. It isn’t something we can plan for completely. There are always going to be curveballs, and it’s time I step up to the plate and start swinging. I’m not saving myself any heartache sitting on the bench.

I meant what I told Charlie last night. We need to keep some boundaries if we’re going to be entertaining each other. I won’t give myself over to him completely again. Giving him access and control over my body I can handle, but I will not hand over my heart for him to crush again. I don’t have a lot of it left now that my sister isn’t going to be there with wine and chocolate to pick me back up.

When I left I eventually lied and made up an ex-boyfriend at my old college. Elisa consoled me and encouraged me to settle down in Florida. She thought I was building a new life, not running from one.

Speaking of running, I need to pull a Houdini and escape the Charlie cage. It turns out that even moderate amounts of yoga and surfing won’t make your body lose bones. My efforts to slip down through his arms and out from under his leg only manage to grind my ass against his erect cock.

He wore himself out last night. Either he was trying to break the world record for fucking the most times in one night, or he also knows this thing between us could be over any minute. My body aches in a delicious kind of way, and even if we are over in the next second, I’ll still feel him branded in my body for days.

I try one more time to wiggle out of his grasp, but all I manage is to rub against him again. He wakes up slowly. I can tell by the change in his breathing against my skin and the purposeful thrusts he makes against my ass. One of his hands squeezes my breast, and he grazes his teeth against my shoulder and neck.

“Trying to escape, Doll?” Charlie asks in a gruff voice, still shaking off sleep.

“I should really get back home,” I say, and try once more to free myself.

The hand squeezing my breast starts a slow slide down my belly. “Are you on birth control?”

I should tell him no, or even that I know how big of a slut he’s become in my absence. Like always though, rational thought flies right out of my head when he’s near. It’s reckless, idiotic, and every other negative adjective I can think of. The problem is, as much as I know I shouldn’t, the thing I want most at this moment is to feel him without anything between us. I want his heat, and I want to feel him come inside of me.

“I am, and I—” I almost tell him that I haven’t been with anyone since him. He’s still my one and only, but admitting that feels like it would strip me more bare than I am right now. Instead, I say, “I’ve been tested, and my results were negative.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever been with bare,” he says.

My muscles stiffen. “So that means that you’ve been with others. I mean, yeah, it’s been six years, so of course.”

His eyes narrow, and he studies me too closely for my comfort. “Have you not been with anyone else?”

I lick my bottom lip, a nervous habit I can’t seem to stop at the moment. “Please don’t ask me that,” I say in a voice barely more than a whisper.

Charlie drops his head against my neck and groans. When he does, his hold loosens on me, and I seize the opportunity to get up and run away. I grab my clothes in a hurry, probably leaving important pieces behind, but if I don’t go now I’ll end up underneath him again. That’s a pleasurable position to be in, but nothing that feels that good comes for free.

The moment got too big, and something that heavy is sure to crush me.

The day I left Charlie's, I expected not to go back. I kept that promise for almost a week. Then we ran into each other at the grocery store and before I knew it, we were back at his house, tangled in his sheets. This cycle continued for over a month. After that, I stopped lying to myself that I would be able to resist him. It’s never been true, and it’s clear to me now that as long as I’m in the same town as he is, I will always be weak when it comes to him.

Charlie isn't the only man on my mind though. I haven't seen Donovan since the funeral. I don't expect him to forgive me, but I should at least make an effort to try and earn his forgiveness, which is why I find myself sliding up to the bar at Donovan’s.

I know he sees me shortly after I come in because despite this being the only bar in town, there isn't a big crowd inside. Still, Donovan tries to ignore me and stays busy refilling trays of garnishes and wiping down an already spotless counter.

He should know better than to try and out stubborn me because I could win an Olympic medal if it were an approved sport. Finally, he gives in and moves down to stand in front of me from across the bar.

“You don't take a hint, do you?" he asks.

“If you think that was a hint, I need to explain to you the art of subtlety my friend. You should know better anyway, I took that as a challenge.”

Donovan rolls his eyes. “Take it however, you want, just take it out of here."

In a demonstration of exactly how stubborn I am, I make myself more comfortable at the bar. “It's like you want me to just move in," I tease him.

“What are you doing here Hattie?”

“I thought I would start with a drink and then pester the bartender for a while," I say.

Donovan sighs loudly. “What can I get you?" he says, all business.

“I’ll take a hefeweizen if you have it,” I reply. There’s so much to say, but he’s very obviously pissed off at me. I deserve it, but I was hoping that enough time had gone by that he would be happier to see me than he was mad about me ghosting him when I left town six years ago.

He sets the beer in front of me and moves along to serve someone else. As the night goes on the bar starts to fill up. I should have realized that even mid-week this place would be packed. I wait him out because I know that when my beer runs out he won’t be able to help himself from coming back over and seeing if I need something else. Yes, I’m using his work ethic to force him to talk to me, but I have no guilt about it.

He lasts for ten minutes before he's back in front of me. “I’m so sorry about Elisa and Martin. It was a beautiful service. They would have been touched that practically the whole town came out for them.”

I nod my head. “I saw you there for a second as you were leaving. Why didn’t you come say something to me?”

He inhales deeply. “Because I’m still mad at you, and I didn’t want any of that to come through at their funeral. They were good people.”

The grief wells up, as it does many times a day. Blinking and taking deep breaths have kept most of the tears at bay since the funeral, but this time they almost overcame my efforts. I store them up for the nights I’m alone. I’ve never been big on sharing my emotions with others, and I haven’t drunk enough to start now.

That isn’t why I came here anyway, so rather than dwell on my sadness, I change the subject. I wave my arm around gesturing to the whole bar. “Elisa told me you bought the bar when Mr. Carson decided to retire. I’m so proud of you. I know that might not mean much, but I’m glad to see that your dreams are coming true.”

“Most of them, at least. I thought I’d have a hot blonde on my arm by now and my best friend by my side. One of three isn’t horrible,” he says.

I shake my head. “I know I messed everything up. I never meant to ghost you. I was in a dark place, and I didn’t want to face how screwed up everything had gotten. Before I knew it a few weeks passed, then a few more, and by the time I started to pull out of the fog of my depression I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. I was a chicken, and I should have called. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you here to stay?” he asks.

I shrug. “I’m taking it one day at a time. Wren isn’t even eighteen yet, and we’re all the family each other has. At a minimum, I’m here for the next few months. I took a leave of absence from the hospital in Florida, and I’m working at an urgent care clinic in Pine Bluff for now. They’ve got a nurse out on maternity leave, so it worked out while I’m figuring out what I want to do.”

His jaw clenches. “What could possibly make you consider going back to Florida and leaving your niece here all alone?”

Before I answer he looks at something over my shoulder. Glares would be a better description. I turn to look, but Donovan starts to yell my name to get my attention. He doesn’t get it fast enough though. When I turn around on the stool I see Charlie sitting in a large booth in the back leaning close to a curvy redhead, whispering something in her ear.

I try to regulate my breathing. I won’t cry over him again. Until this moment, I believed my own lies that I wasn’t falling for him again. I know a lot of people would say I have no right to be pissed off since we made no promises, but fuck that, and fuck them. At the very least he owed me a heads-up that he was actively seeing other women.

“I should have known it was all about him. Please tell me you didn’t start up with him again since you’ve been back,” Donovan begs me to tell him.

I’ve never been a great liar. The only reason I was able to hold on to my secret about being with Charlie the first time was because no one thought to ask. No one except for Donovan of course.

“I can’t tell you that,” I admit.

He throws his rag and storms away. There’s no point waiting for him to return out of the back room. He is probably going to have someone take over for him until he gets word that I’ve given up and gone home.

I sure as hell don’t want to be here with front-row seats to watch Charlie, the manwhore, service the single women of Harriston. My stool makes a screeching noise as I shove back from the bar. I can feel people watching me, but I resist the urge to look back and see if Charlie is one of them.

He confirms that he is when I hear him call out my name. I don’t want to hear the excuses from him, not here in front of his special friend. I won’t let him make me look like a pathetic clinger. No one is going to understand what our history is, and I don’t want him to diminish what is left of my memories of what we were. Although, I’m afraid those memories are already tainted.

I don’t stop even when I can hear him trying to maneuver around people. He makes it to the door right as I climb into my car and drive away. This is the reason I always limit myself to one beer because I refuse to be helpless around Charlie Storm ever again.