About Time (Broken Vows #4)

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Charlie Past- Age 42

I pull the letter she wrote out of my wallet, where it’s been since the night she left. The paper is soft from years of being touched. In the folds the paper is thin, and I’ve had to put tape on a few spots to keep it together. I’ve read it so many times the words are burned into my brain.

Be happy Charlie. Doesn’t she know that’s impossible without her?

How could she when I worked so hard to convince her I wanted her gone? The only person responsible for my misery is me.

It hasn’t been easy to push her out of my mind. My godson, Liam, married Hattie’s niece shortly after she graduated from high school. Griffin and I both tried to convince him that they were too young, but he wouldn’t listen. Of course she went along with it because Liam is the only family she has here now that Hattie is gone.

That is also my fault. No way Hattie would have left her here alone if I hadn’t broken her heart. Now I’m stuck looking at her doppelg?nger for the last five years. It isn’t bad enough that I see Hattie every time I close my eyes, but the resemblance is so uncanny that I can’t even escape her now when I’m awake.

Donovan and I don’t talk much beyond what kind of beer I want. Even those short minutes out of my week makes me want to demand updates on how she’s doing, and most importantly find out if she’s moved on. I got lucky the last time, but a woman as smart, kind, and beautiful as she is won’t stay single forever.

My decision to push her away made sense when I was thirty. I was rethinking it at thirty-six, and now at forty-two I can see how fucking stupid it was. I can’t for the life of me remember what about our ages made me think we couldn’t be together. Yeah, nineteen is young, but we were both adults, and there had been nothing between us prior to that to coerce her to want to be with me. And that’s the other thing, she came to me first.

Now I realize all the excuses I made were just convenient lies I told myself. The truth is I was worried that she’d outgrow me. I didn’t know how I could ever get over her, so I thought I’d pull the cord early and give myself a chance. The only thing I gave myself was twelve years of misery.

I keep telling Griffin it’s time he moves on from his ex wife. She’s been gone twenty-two years now, and I know how big of a hypocrite I am. The difference is that he never really loved Melinda, not like I love Hattie. Griffin has only been single because he was more focused on being a good father than finding someone to settle down with.

It’s time I follow my own advice and start trying to move on. It isn’t like I’ve been celibate the last six years since she walked back out of my life. Though I haven’t been as big of a manwhore as people seem to think either. I flirt, but that’s like second nature for me. I always make sure that Griffin and any of my other friends see me leave with a woman, but most of the time the only place I take them is to their house. I don’t join them either, I just give them a ride home.

Only on occasion, when I’ve drank way too much, have I hooked up with anyone. It always results in a shame spiral, followed by a few weeks of swearing off alcohol. I just had to know that I could go without drinking. I might end up alone, but I’d be damned if I end up like my dad.

Like so many men in this town, Charles Storm, Senior became disgruntled with his lot in life. He always felt he was meant for bigger things than shift work at one of the local factories. Instead of trying to learn a new skill, or anything to improve his situation, he chose to drown his disappointment in whiskey and cheap beer.

It scares me how often I turn to the same vices to bury the pain of being apart from Hattie, but for those few hours I get to let it all go. That’s a powerful motivator to keep going down the wrong path, but losing myself along with her would be so pathetically stereotypical for this town.

I’m running late to meet Griff at Donovan’s bar. Every time I go out I feel the need to torture myself by reading her letter. Maybe if I read it enough I’ll figure out how to be happy. It would have been nice if she’d have given me a bit more to go on there. I don’t know how to do it without her. Being with her is the only time I’ve felt true happiness.

Tonight isn’t really about me though. My plan to move on from Hattie is secondary. If I’m really honest with myself I’m looking for more of a distraction from my loneliness than I really am someone to move on with. There will never be anyone for me except for her.

What is really important tonight is stopping Griffin from destroying his own life. He is in massive need of an intervention. Things have been rapidly going to hell lately, and if he doesn’t check himself it’s going to get much worse.

I know I haven’t helped the situation. Griff doesn’t always come out with me when I go to Donovan’s. For the last six months or so, I’ve been seeing my godson out with women who are not his wife. It isn’t like I stood around and did nothing. Many times I tried to make him see reason before he took it too far. Then when I was sure he was actively cheating on Wren, I begged him to leave her. She deserved better than being cheated on.

Still he insisted that he was just working something out of his system and he planned to be with her forever. I know Hattie would have my balls for not telling Wren that Liam was cheating on her, but Hattie isn’t here and she isn’t coming back. I’ve been torn on what to tell Wren, but I waited too long. She found out in the most painful way possible, and I’ll always feel guilty knowing I could have saved her the experience of seeing him fucking another woman in the car she bought for him.

It’s true that I’m closer to Liam, but that isn’t why I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t because around the same time I realized Liam was cheating, I started to notice how much Griffin watches Wren when he thinks no one is looking. It never made sense to me how big of an asshole he was to her. He’s a dick on a good day, but usually not irrationally so. I tried to push against the way he treated her, but he fed me some bullshit about how it would be better for her if she left Harriston.

I agreed, because it was the same thing I said about Hattie. Hearing him say it reinforced what I did, so I accepted it without arguing. I knew everything would change if he found out how rocky his son’s marriage actually was. I didn’t think I could keep them apart.

Then several days ago Griff was the one with Wren when she caught Liam mid thrust. It was his shoulder she cried on, and things have been off between them ever since. There’s an electricity in the air between them, and I’m on damage control. Tonight we are going to try and meet some women. At least that’s my plan.

If all that wasn’t bad enough, we discovered that not only did Liam fuck around on his wife, but he was also stealing from the garage. He was charging customers for our usual parts, then finding cheaper, lower quality parts, and pocketing the difference. Wren leaving Liam would never have been enough to make Griffin betray his son, but being betrayed by his son first might be what pushes him over the line.

I understand the appeal of a Parker woman. All three of them look so much alike it’s freaky. That’s why seeing Wren is like rubbing salt in an open wound. She looks so much like her mother and her aunt that the loss of my friend and my wife can’t heal. She’s got the same gentleness of her mother. It’s nice to know that grace and kindness isn’t completely gone from the world.

The best thing she could do for all of us, Griffin, Liam, me, and herself would be to leave this town and never look back. She should go before this town digs its way under her skin and poisons her. She can’t resist it like her mom did, because she sure as hell didn’t marry a man like her father. Liam doesn’t have Martin’s goodness and loyalty. Without someone like that behind her, this town will eventually destroy her. Maybe when I no longer have to see those familiar big green eyes, and hair the color of spun gold, I will finally be able to move on.

Enter plan B. Since ignoring the problem didn’t make it go away, now I just have to keep Griffin preoccupied long enough for Wren to get some things together and leave. No doubt she’ll follow Hattie to Florida. I’m not sure where she lives in Florida, but it’s far enough away that it might as well be another country. I’m afraid if Griffin gets to her first she will never go anywhere, and he will lose his son. That is the other reason she needs to go, because eventually he will resent her for coming between them, and she doesn’t deserve that.

When I finally get to the bar Griffin is scowling at people. So it’s a normal Friday night. He hates being forced out among people. Even with his surly expression women are watching him. Since I haven’t started drinking I skip over the blondes. I only end up with a blonde when my drunk brain uses them as a substitute for Hattie.

A couple of women down the bar are checking me out as I wait for Donovan to fill a pitcher with beer. He still makes me wait longer for service than other people, but I ignore it just like he mostly ignores me. I can’t say I really blame him for the way he treats me. I did run his best friend out of town.

He sets the pitcher down hard on the table in front of me. Enough that some of the beer sloshes out onto my hand. Then he sets four glasses next to it and nods his head toward the women at the end of the bar.

“Those two seem like your type,” he says.

“Hot?” I know that isn’t what he means, but every few weeks he makes a snide comment or two about the women I flirt with, and I rise to the challenge.

“Easy,” he replies, as I expect.

I give him a huge smile, showing lots of teeth. It doesn’t really matter if inside I’m a tangled mess of self hatred and loneliness, because no one sees that. Everyone thinks I’m just carefree Charlie Storm, a simple guy who spends all his time fixing cars and hooking up with women. I could only wish to live so shallow a life. What a relief it would be to not carry around all of this baggage with me.

It’s funny how no one has done the math. If I were really getting around as much as they think, there would be no women in this town that I haven’t slept with. They don’t really want to know the truth though, not when the fiction is so much more entertaining.

Still, Donovan’s idea has merit. I need to dangle something shiny in front of Griffin to distract him from drooling over his daughter-in-law. At some point I’m going to have to sleep with a woman when I’m actually sober enough to remember it. Or I guess I could always become religious and join some kind of monastery or something.

Moving down the bar I give them a much different smile. It’s a bit forced, but they don’t seem to notice. I lean on my elbow against the bar and slowly look them up and down. It should really be creepy, but some women eat this shit up.

“Hey ladies. What brings you out tonight?” They’re local. At least they’ve lived here for a while. Their faces blend into the scenery for me. This town is small enough I should really know who they are, but that would take effort I don’t care to put in.

“We had a night off work, and thought we’d let off some steam,” The dark haired one says.

“What do you do?” I don’t actually care, but that seems like the logical next question someone asks.

“I’m a nurse,” the same woman says.

I’m able to control my expression, barely. If her friend is a nurse too then I’m going to have to move along. She’s cute enough, I guess, but I can’t try this with anyone who even remotely triggers any kind of reminder of Hattie.

Physically she won’t be a problem. Her hair is kind of a dirty brown. She’s tall and skinny, not in a gym body kind of way, but like someone who can eat their weight in Cheetos and lose pounds. Really, she’s unremarkable, but that could just be me. No woman holds a candle against Hattie in my eyes.

“I’m in HR. We went to school together and got jobs at the hospital when we graduated, so here we are,” the friend says.

I hold my hand out. “I’m Charlie, and my friend over there,” I point at Griffin when she lets go of my hand, “that’s Griffin. I know he looks like an asshole, but that’s just because he’s had a rough day and could use some cheering up. Would either of you like to help with that?”

The skinny one giggles. “We know who you are.”

Her friend nods. “Everyone in town knows who you are.”

My smile falters for a second. I’ve heard the talk. I’m an indiscriminate manwhore, a town merry go round that if you wait long enough I’ll come back around to give them a ride too. It’s all bullshit.

The brunette rolls her shoulders back and pushes out her tits. She has no idea that he’s unlikely to be swayed by her, even if she does have an impressive rack. “I think I could help brighten his night. I’m Brandi.” I reach out and shake her hand as well.

Then I stare at the friend and silently encourage her to introduce herself. Just because they know my name doesn’t mean I know theirs, a fact I don’t bother hiding from her. “Beth,” she says after a long moment.

I grab the pitcher and the cups. “Follow me, ladies.”

Griffin scowls at me as I gesture for Brandi to slide in on his side of the booth. This makes my smile a little more genuine, but only because I like fucking with him. The less he likes this, the more enjoyment I get out of it.

That joy is short-lived. I find myself pulling inside and letting my mind wander. It’s harder than I expect trying to stay engaged in the conversation. My mind keeps wandering off. I’m more focused on Brandi’s failing efforts to get Griffin’s attention than I am on Beth. Truthfully she’s kind of whiny and annoying, but I don’t really expect to form a connection with a woman like I had with Hattie.

Before I fell for her I enjoyed hooking up with women, but I never stayed longer than it took to get off. My mother left my father when I was in first grade, which wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d taken me with her. I guess my abandonment issues made me averse to romantic attachments. My experience with Hattie doesn’t help either. The only thing love has brought me is pain.

Mentally I’ve decided to hook up with Beth, but my body is completely uninterested in her. I have to try and force myself to pay even the smallest amount of attention to what she’s saying. The way her eyes keep sliding down my body lets me know she’s on board with going home with me. Not that I’ll take her to my home. I always go to theirs. Since I shared mine with Hattie I’ve never brought another woman back there. I can’t help but see it as cheating, even though we aren’t together and never will be again.

I turn up my smile a bit brighter. It’s fake as fuck, and I’ve missed everything she’s been saying, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I know she started telling me about a DIY project she started and then I tuned her out. She’s trying really hard to relate to me by showing me that she also knows how to use tools, but I can’t be bothered to give even a tiny fuck.

I try to have a conversation with her at first, but I keep zoning out. I realize part way through the conversation that she’s been telling me something I’m completely not listening to.

“—I bought a belt sander when I was refinishing the floors, but of course I needed to rent a much bigger one if I ever wanted to get it done in this lifetime.” Beth laughs at her own joke, and I start paying attention again just in time to chuckle along with her.

Not knowing what to add to the conversation I kiss her. Before I know it we’re making out like I’m trying to give her mouth to mouth while sitting here in the booth. On the outside it probably looks like we’re about to have sex right here, but in reality I’m just desperately trying to make my body respond to her. Nothing I do is working, but maybe if we get out of here I can get something going on downstairs.

I thought whiskey dick happened when you were drinking, not because of the absence of whiskey. It won’t count if I have to get drunk enough to get through this like all the other times. Maybe the problem is that I have no emotional connection to her. If that’s the case then I’m fucked, because I’m not going down that road ever again. It’s Hattie or no one for me.

“What do you think about the two of us getting out of here and you showing me those floors?” I suggest. I’m committed to this experiment now, although if I’m telling myself the truth I’d much rather go home and crawl into bed, alone.

That option gets sidelined when she lights up at my suggestion, like my pathetic attempt to get into her pants is the best offer she’s had in a long time. Beth looks back at her friend who gives her the universal silent signal for “go on, I’m going to take this man back home and ride him like a prize pony.”

I do the same non-verbal routine with Griffin. I know his answer is begging me to help him escape Brandi, but even if he leaves here alone, which I know he will, at least he won’t be focusing on Wren flirting with the college guys on her night off.

“I drove here with Brandi,” Beth giggles when we make it to the parking lot.

I jingle my keys in front of her and wink. “We can take my truck and you give me directions.”

Good thing I don’t take women home with me. There’d be no getting rid of her without driving her myself. That always makes for an awkward morning after. At least it used to before Hattie blew up my life.

She lives in an old Craftsman out on the edge of town toward what passes for a country club here. It looks like it was built in the 1920’s, and she’s actually done some pretty great restoration work on it. I point out a few things to her that I can see she’s done well, and you’d think I said, “let me lay you out lick every inch of your pussy.”

She practically vibrates with pent up need. If she didn’t tell me she worked in HR at the hospital I’d start to think she worked in a library in a community of only women.

“Did you want a drink?” she asks while her fingers stroke back and forth on the neck of her top.

I shake my head, and go sit on her sofa. The entire point of this experiment is to hook up with someone without needing alcohol to get into it. Drunk me wouldn’t choose her anyway. When I’m that far in the bottle, I only look for blondes. My vision is blurry enough, and my inhibitions are low enough that I can pretend I’m not with some woman whose name I’ll forget when the buzz wears off, but that I am with Hattie for a brief reprieve from the despair I feel being away from her.

Beth joins me on the couch and slowly scoots toward me. I’m not sure if she thinks she’s being seductive, but if she does then she’s horribly out of practice.

I stretch my arm across the back of the couch, and with my fingers I play with a lock of her hair. I need to speed this along, because I’m actually getting less turned on the longer I’m with her. I’m not even sure why I thought it was important to push myself to hook up with someone.

“Why are you all the way over there?” I ask her. From practice I am able to put that slight rumble in my voice that seems to drive women crazy.

She crawls across the couch and straddles my lap. Without much warm up she starts grinding on my lap and nibbling up the side of my neck. I try to call up any image to make this happen, but the only thing that works is when I picture Hattie. She doesn’t belong inside my head right now. That would defeat the purpose of being able to do this without thinking of her. The problem is, not thinking of her makes my cock softer than warm butter.

I let her keep trying while I make an effort to let myself feel something physical and cut my mind off. Beth is getting frustrated with my lack of response to her efforts, and increases the friction against my dick.

She takes her top off, and that helps a little. I’ve always been a breast man, but it still isn’t enough to make my cock rise to the occasion. I’m about to move her off my lap when her phone starts ringing in her bag.

Beth reaches across me and digs for her phone, shoving my face between her tits. I’ll admit, they’re nice, but I’m even more convinced that this isn’t going to happen. If an accidental motor boating doesn’t make the blood flow south then it’s never going to happen.

“Sorry, girl code,” she apologizes.

I wish she wouldn’t insist on having his conversation while sitting on my lap, but she answers and sits back on my knees.

“What do you mean he took another woman into the supply closet? Oh my god…he didn’t.”

She continues the conversation, and whatever Griffin did, has Beth moving off my lap and giving me a dirty look. I’m not upset that the mood is killed, but I’m pretty sure the reason behind it is because he fucked Wren in the supply room. That isn’t good.

Everything I feared is coming to pass, and I can’t help but think that this will impact more than the two of them.