Shattered Dreams (Dream #1)

Chapter Sixteen

Autumn

I bury my face in his neck, which is the wrong thing to do because all I can do is smell him all around me. The musk reminds me of a time I didn’t hate him. The first time I met him and thought to myself that he might be the hottest man I’d ever seen. With a megawatt smile and dark-blue eyes, you would be lucky if he smiled your way. I’m reminded of this right before I remember this Charlie isn’t that one. This Charlie is a man who hates me. Is a man who I hate. Is a man who no matter how many times I tell myself I can resist him, I don’t. He is the perfect example of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He wraps his arms around me, one around my waist and the other around the tops of my shoulders, as he buries his own face in my neck. I need to move away from him, and I will in a minute, when his body's heat warms my bones' coldness. I’m about to disengage myself from him when he gets up, and my legs wrap around his hips instead of getting down. His cock still buried in me, still hard, making me feel a fullness I’ve never felt before. A fullness, even if I don’t want to remember it, I will.

He carries me into the house, making his way to my bedroom. “I have to put the sheets back on the bed,”

I say softly from his neck.

“Where are they?”

he asks me, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard.

“In the dryer,”

I tell him. He pulls me off him, putting me on my feet, the cool hitting me as soon as he steps away from me.

“I’ll go get them,”

he says, turning, not waiting for me to say anything. Then I wrap my linen shirt closed in the front to warm myself. I hear him open the dryer as I sit on the bed, hooking my feet on the side of the bed frame, wrapping my arms around them, and my chest pressing into them. He walks back in and stops when he sees me.

He dumps the covers on the bed, and I get up. The two of us make the bed in the darkness, the light from the moon guiding us. I don’t know if he’s going to stay or not. I also don’t care. The whole day catches up with me. He walks back out of the room toward the laundry room as I put the pillows in their place and comes back with the quilt. I pull the covers back as I shrug off the linen shirt, slipping into bed with just my panties on. Facing the other side of the bed, I curl into a ball as my head sinks into the pillow.

I don’t know what he’s going to do, if he’s going to stay or not. My eyes stay open but not looking for him. I hear his boots hitting the floor, followed by the clashing of his belt buckle before he walks to the other side of the bed and slides in. My heart speeds up as I watch him lie on his back, looking up at the ceiling, one hand on his chest, the other folded under his head.

I should close my eyes and fall asleep and wish him gone by morning. I should turn and give him my back. I should have never started this shit with him, whatever it fucking is. Even knowing all that, instead of doing what I should do, my mouth opens. “I wasn’t going to talk to that reporter.”

I don’t know why I tell him this, but I do. It won’t change what he thinks of me, but I still want it to be known.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

His voice is as soft as it was before. “It’s late.”

He turns his head to look over my way. We stare at each other until I make the move to turn and give him my back. Placing one hand under my pillow and closing my eyes, I wait for sleep to come and take me, when I feel him around me. His arm slides under my pillow with mine while his other arm falls over my hips. The lone tear slips out of my eye, sliding to the pillow before sleep takes me.

The alarm wakes us both up in the morning, and when I open my eyes, I see we’ve moved in the four hours. My head is now on his chest, my arm over his abs as he curls up, so my arm falls to the side before he gets out of bed, heading toward the blaring sounds. He turns the alarm off as I hear him start to get dressed. After the sound of the zipper, I wait until I hear the sound of his boots being put on before I speak, “I have a date tonight, so you can’t come over.”

I can hear him stop moving.

I hear him stand and make the mistake of looking down the bed at him standing there, his face like stone. “Why would I care?”

I don’t let the words hurt me. There is nothing he can say that can hurt me anymore. “I care”—I toss the covers over me—“that people might find out you show up here at night.”

I stand here in my panties and nothing else, knowing I should cover myself up. “I don’t know why I should care.”

I hate that I’m admitting this to him, of all people. “But I do, and I don’t need you showing up here in case someone is here.”

I fold my arms over my chest, both of us now glaring at each other.

“Don’t worry about it,”

he growls before he turns on his boot and storms out, making sure he slams the door before he walks out. I put my head back, looking at the ceiling before closing my eyes. The stinging comes to my nose as I push the tears away. I look out the window at the same time as he disappears into the forest.

“Fuck you, Charlie,”

I say to the empty room, wishing I’d said it to him before he slammed out of my house. I look over at the bed and think about stripping it again, but I’ve washed the sheets for the last two nights, and after the exit he just had, I doubt he’ll ever show his face here again. So I go to the bathroom, start the shower, and ignore how pissed I am that I let him have the last word again.

Even when I get dressed and snatch the gray T-shirt dress off the hanger, putting it on, I’m mumbling to myself, “He’s a dick.”

I walk back to the bathroom, combing through my hair. “He has a big dick, but he’s also a giant fucking dick,”

I tell the mirror, “and I hate him.”

I look down at my vagina. “And you need to stop being a traitor when he’s around. We hate him, and that includes his dick, fingers, and his mouth. You’ve been sleeping for nearly eight years, and now you want to wake up. Wrong time, wrong place, definitely wrong fucking person.”

I slide on my white sneakers, grabbing my black bag as I head out the door. “Asshole.”

I’m still mumbling as I get in my car and head toward town, parking at the same time my brother gets there.

He gets out of his truck with the baseball hat on his head backward as he waits for me to get out of my car. “Morning,”

he greets me as I slam my door.

“Whatever,”

I say to him. “I’m going for a coffee and some donuts,”

I inform him as I start to walk away.

“Are you going to get me anything?”

he asks, and I look over my shoulder at him standing there with his hands on his hips.

“No, because a gentleman would have offered to go and get me coffee.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “Are you okay? Is it that time of the month?”

“Ugh.”

I turn and walk away from him, raising my hand in the air and flipping him the bird.

“I’m going to go with a yes on that one.”

He laughs. “Get me a donut.”

I walk over to the bakery, this time on my way there, a couple of people smile my way and I have to wonder if I’m in another dimension. Especially when one of the women smiles at me and says, “Good morning, Autumn.”

I stop in my tracks. If she hadn’t said my name, I’d think she was talking to someone else.

“Morning,”

I reply to her as I look around to see if I’m actually awake or it’s a dream, but she’s already halfway down the block before my feet move toward the bakery. I walk out with a cup of coffee in each hand and a bag filled with four donuts, going around the building to the back where the door will probably be unlocked.

I make my way to the office where Brady sits down behind the desk, going over the bills from last night. “We had a great night.”

He looks up, and I nod at him.

“It was,”

I tell him, putting the coffee down in front of him. “You’re welcome.”

“Um, thank you,”

he says. “Just checked, and Bryan emailed that they will be here by one thirty to grab the cases.”

I take a sip of the coffee. “That check should help.”

I sit down in the chair. “Finally, some good news.”

“How was last night?”

he asks me, grabbing the bag of donuts and snagging one. “What time did you end up closing?”

I do not end up telling him about the reporter. “I closed up at around eleven.”

His eyes go big. “We had a group of six, who were from out of town, and started talking to each other about where they were from, then they started buying each other drinks.”

I shrug. “Left a good tip also.”

“Which you didn’t take,”

he points out.

“I took a twenty so I can get gas and buy my donuts.”

I point at the bag. “Priorities.”

“You still need to live,”

he reminds me, taking another bite of the donut while I reach out and grab my own. The sugar sticks to my fingers as I take a bite of the fluffy goodness. “We should offer sweets,”

I suggest to him, and he glares at me. “You know, when you are sitting around chatting and drinking as a woman, and you’re just a touch tipsy, you want to have that piece of sweetness.”

He puts his head back, and I try not to laugh at him. “I can’t work late tonight,”

I tell him, and he just looks at me as I chew my piece of donut. “I have a date.”

I wiggle my eyebrows, “First date in eight years.”

I try to make a joke out of it.

“That’s not true,”

my brother refutes, and I just stare at him.

“When I came to visit you that one time, there was a guy at the bar who was trying to date you.”

I look at him confused. “He came in every single day, stayed all day long just to talk to you.”

“Are you talking about Clint?” I ask.

He snaps his fingers and points at me. “That’s him.”

“He’s eighty-four,”

I gasp, “with a wife.”

His head goes back, and he laughs. “Oh yeah, he was trying to get you to do the polyamorous thing.”

I glare at him. “Yeah, because you taught him that stupid word. You know his wife came in to have a talk with me.”

He slaps the desk. “It’s not funny. She said we should split the chores; she didn’t even care that her husband asked me out.”

“At that age, I’m pretty sure she just wanted to get rid of him.”

I can’t help but belly laugh. “You are not wrong.”

I’m taking a sip of my coffee when my phone beeps from my purse.

Putting the coffee cup down and licking the sugar from my fingers, I pull the phone out and see the text from a number not saved in my phone.

Unknown Contact: here is my address, 151 Second Street. Come at five. Can’t wait to see you.

“Everything okay?”

Brady asks me. “Your face got a little pale there for a second.”

“Yeah.”

I push away the dread that is starting to creep up. “Bryan was confirming.”

I put on a fake smile. “Let’s get to work,”

I say, trying to avoid the fact that going out with him scares me to my core.