Shattered Dreams (Dream #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Charlie

She looks over at me with her eyes filled with tears, and it makes me angry. Angry that she hurts so much. Angry I was one of those people who made her cry. Angry because I can’t do shit about it until she gives me a hint that she wants me to do something about it.

We ride the horses all day long, and when we finally get back to the barn, it’s after four in the afternoon. “What a day.”

She dismounts the horse and walks over to the side as she pets her neck. “You were so good.”

She puts her forehead against her neck. “The best.”

“Let me get them settled, and I’ll feed you,”

I say, and she shakes her head.

“I have to get going, get ready for work. Shower. I’ll get something on the way.”

I try not to be disappointed that she’s leaving. But I am. I wasn’t ready for the day to end.

“Okay, let me put them away, and I’ll walk you back home.”

I start to walk to the barn.

“That’s okay, it’s a ten-minute walk.”

“I said I’m walking you back home,”

I say, trying to be cool about it, but failing when her eyebrows shoot up. “Just to make sure you are okay.”

“This going to go faster if I agree?”

she asks, and I nod. “Then hurry up. I’ve already taken up all your time, and I don’t want you to waste any more time with me.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,”

I say, grabbing the reins from her. “I was exactly where I wanted to be today.”

“Oh.”

She looks up at me, her lips parted, and I swear I can taste the kiss.

“Exactly, it was what I wanted to do with my time. And now I want to put the horses away, get them some water, and then I’m going to walk you home.”

I don’t wait for her to say anything to me as I walk into the barn and stop when I see a couple of the ranch hands there with Emmett. “What are you doing here?”

“Just going over a couple of things,”

Emmett replies. “Do you want me to take care of them for you?”

He motions with his head toward the two horses.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

“Take your time,”

he says, looking over my shoulder at Autumn. “Be good.”

“Yeah.”

I’m irritated by his comment. I walk out and see her standing there looking at my house. “You sure you don’t want to have something to eat?”

I ask, and she shakes her head. “I have a shower you could use.”

“Wait?”

She turns to me. “You have a shower in your house?”

She bites her lower lip. “You fancy.”

She chuckles at her own joke, and I grab her around her neck, just like I used to do way back when. But this time it’s different because I don’t let her go. My hand hangs off her shoulder as we walk to her house. I stop at the bottom of her steps as she walks up them. “Thanks for today. It’s one of the best days I’ve had in a while,”

she admits and then looks down at her feet as she twirls her fingers nervously.

I walk up the steps to her, my hands reaching up and holding her face in mine. “There are going to be more of those.”

My thumbs rub her cheeks, and I lean down, my lips aching to be on hers, but I move my head to the side to kiss her cheek above my hand. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She doesn’t say anything. She just nods at me before turning around and walking into her house. I stand here for a second before turning and heading home. Emmett isn’t there when I get back, but the horses are taken care of, so I head to my house and step in my own shower. I slide on a pair of jeans and a fresh T-shirt before grabbing a steak from the fridge and walking over to start the grill. Sitting at the island, as I eat the steak and salad I threw together, it dawns on me that I hate eating alone. Have I always hated eating alone, and I’ve just realized it, or have I started to hate it now since she’s been back?

I try to think of the last time I went to see Jennifer as I look around the house, getting up and cleaning up a couple of things—putting things away, checking my mail, and doing shit I don’t want to be doing but doing it so I don’t go to the bar. An hour later, I finally give in and head to the bar instead of staying away from her. I walk over there, and when I step in, I see that it’s half full, and for a Sunday, that’s a great turnout. I walk over to the bar and sit down. She glances over from the group of men she is serving, and she looks surprised to see me. I can’t wait for the day when she’s expecting me to show up and not that me showing up throws her off. “Hey.”

She tosses a coaster in front of me. “This is a surprise,”

she admits.

“Don’t know why.”

I tap the bar top. “I’ll have a soda water.”

She nods. “You got it.”

She walks over and fills my glass, bringing it over. “On the house.”

She laughs as she looks around. “I’ll be back. I sent Brady home, so I’m riding solo.”

“You need help?”

I ask, and she shakes her head. “Of course not,”

I mumble as she walks away. Slowly, people start paying their tabs. I see it’s close to eight and wonder if she’ll drive me home and then come in with me.

I’m thinking this when the stool beside me is pulled out, and when I look over, my mouth hits the floor. “Well, I’ll be—”

I say, and the man sits down beside me and looks over at me. His eyes look like he’s lived ten lifetimes. “—damned.”

He chuckles, his hair longer in the back at the nape of his neck and on the top. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“What can I get you?”

Autumn says and then stops when she sees who it is. “Brock?”

she says his name in a whisper. From her reaction, I’m guessing this is the first time they have come face-to-face.

“Saw you were back in town. Then heard you were staying back in town,”

he says, putting his hands on the bar top. His hand looks rough, his knuckles look like they are healing from being torn to shreds, his fingers tainted with grease, which means he probably just came from his shop down the street, a shop he inherited from his father. “Wanted to see if the rumor was true.”

“It’s me,”

she says, putting her hands on top of the bar stretched out to her sides, “in the flesh. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

He motions toward me with his head, so Autumn takes off and comes back and puts the glass down in front of him.

He picks it up and holds it up. “To old times.”

He clicks my glass with his before taking a sip and then grimaces. “There is no alcohol in this.”

We both laugh at him. “What is this?”

“Soda water,”

I say, and he looks at the glass like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever tasted in his life.

“Why?”

He shakes his head, and Autumn walks to the end of the bar and pours him some whiskey in a small tumbler before handing it to him. “Now, this is a color I like.”

He takes a sip and then sighs. “Tastes like heaven.”

He looks over at Autumn. “So what’s new?”

“Same old, same old,”

she says, her answer guarded. I would imagine she’s still pissed at him for lying when the accident happened. He sided with the Cartwrights. Why? We had no idea; I didn’t care enough at the time to question it. After the accident, it seemed the four of us all went our separate ways. All four of us with our own journeys to go through to heal. Everleigh was here one day, and then when the truth came out, she was gone. From the rumors around, Brock let her go and quickly moved on with someone else, but it was over before the ink was dry on the marriage license, the only thing left is their eight-year-old daughter, Saige. “What about you?”

“Same old, same old.”

He looks in the glass, bringing it to his lips and taking another sip. “You look good.”

I glare at him, wondering where he is going with this. He finishes the rest of the whiskey, getting up, and taking a twenty out of his pocket and putting it on the bar. “I guess I’ll see you around,”

he says, then slaps my shoulder. “Fuck, it’s good to see you.”

He squeezes me before turning and walking out of the place.

“Eight years later,”

she says, her voice soft, “and we are all still living with the demons from that night.”

She takes a deep breath in. “I hate him.”

“Brock?”

I ask, and she shakes her head.

“No.”

She looks at me. “He did what he did for a reason. One that is his own. The only one who was to blame for that night is Waylon, yet he’s the only one who seems to have escaped it all.”

She grabs a rag from the sink. “Coward until the end.”

She stays silent for the rest of the night, her mind elsewhere, and when she closes the bar, I kiss her cheek and turn to walk toward my house. I watch her drive out of the parking lot before I turn and make my way home, walking straight up the back steps and into the house.

The next day, I get up and wonder what she is doing all day, and finally, right before dinner, I make my way over to the bar. I’m rounding the corner when I catch her walking out, and she shakes her head while smiling. Something in me settles, and I don’t know what it is. All I know is that all day I felt like I was on pins and needles, and now, seeing her, it’s like it’s all gone away. “Hey,”

I say, and she turns her head my way. She’s wearing a skirt with flowers on it and a white crop T-shirt that stops right above her waist, showing just a touch of that skin I vowed I would spend the night worshipping if I got another chance with her.

“Hi,”

she says, her voice breathless.

“Where are you going?”

I ask as we stand in front of the door to the bar, and I see there is a slew of people.

“Brady told me to go home,”

she mumbles, “even though he’s swamped, and I’m going to leave just to teach him a lesson.”

“Good,”

I say. “Have dinner with me?”

She looks at me and then looks down. She does that when she’s nervous. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her voice is soft as she looks around.

“Why not?”

The question comes out harsher than I want it to.

Her eyes sweep the street again. “Well,”

she hesitates, and my stomach gets tight as she avoids my eyes.

“Are you dating that guy?”

I take a step closer to her, my heart beating out of my chest. I look down at her, wanting to kiss her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life, but also knowing that I have to gain her trust. I vowed I was only going to kiss her if she wanted me to kiss her, and that is what I’m going to do, even if it kills me.

“No,”

she quickly answers me, “Bryan and I are just friends.”

Even the name makes me want to ball my hands into fists and punch a tree.

“We’re going for dinner,”

I say, not giving her a chance to refuse while I grab her by the elbow and proceed to walk to D’amores restaurant.

I pull open the door, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread hits you right away. The tables are all covered with white linen tablecloths, and the servers wear tuxes. It’s a fancy place, and the two of us look like we are dressed to go to a diner and not here. “Can I help you?”

the hostess asks.

“A table for two, please,”

I say, putting my hand on the base of Autumn’s back when she grabs two menus and motions for us to follow her. A server is beside the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit in when we arrive.

“Thank you,”

she says softly to the server and gives him a shy smile as I sit in the chair in front of her.

The hostess hands us each our menu and then places the wine menu on the side of my plate. “Would you like still or sparkling water?”

the server asks us.

“I’ll have sparkling,”

I reply, knowing she won’t answer first.

“I’ll have the same.”

She looks up at him before taking a look around the room. I can literally hear the whispers from the people around us.

I ignore them as I open my menu and look over the specials. “The pasta is homemade,”

I inform her, and when I look up, I see that she’s pale. “Relax,”

I say, and she just stares at me.

“I don’t know if I can do this,”

she whispers softly, and I reach out my hand and put it on hers, making sure more people stare and whisper, also not giving one fuck about who is pointing and who is whispering.

“You can do this.”

I smile at her. “You can do anything.”

She has to be quite honestly the strongest woman I’ve ever met.

“I’m not sure about that.”

She opens the menu and avoids looking around.

“Hey,”

I say. She looks up at me and has the biggest tears brimming the bottoms of her lids, and I want to get up and pitch my table across the room. “We’ll go.”

“No,”

she mouths. “If I do that, they win. Everyone wins.”

I couldn’t be prouder of her. “Then we eat, and I’ll take you home, and we can have dessert at my house.”

I don’t mean it like that, and the minute I hear the words, I want to kick myself, but then I see her eyes gloss over in lust, and I just smirk at her. “I didn’t mean it like that, but with the way your face just changed, you can take it however you want.”

She silently giggles, bringing her hand to her mouth as she looks at the menu. I order a plate of pasta and she does also. “Just focus on me,”

I say when she looks like she’s about to crawl out of her skin. “Focus on me and nothing else.”

“Easier said than done.”

She grabs a piece of fresh-baked bread when it arrives and puts butter on it. The whispers slowly die down like I knew they would. A couple of people even stop and say hello to us on their way to their table, which makes her feel a little bit more at ease.

I hurry through dinner, knowing this is probably killing her but also knowing she did nothing wrong. I pay the bill, and then I’m about to slide my hand in hers when we walk out. I head back to her car when she stops in her tracks. My eyes go from her face that had a soft smile on it to whatever she is looking at that made her stop.

The Cartwrights are walking down the street. Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright, heads held high, arm in arm as they walk, followed by their son, Winston, and his wife, Harmony. They look around, and the minute they set their eyes on Autumn, their faces twist into a sneer.

“Jesus Christ,”

Winston hisses from behind his parents, “I thought she would be gone by now.”

“Winston,”

Harmony chastises from beside him, avoiding looking at us.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Mr. Cartwright says, looking at Autumn and then back at me. “Didn’t think we’d find you hanging around with scum.”

“I’d watch your mouth if I was you.”

I step in front of her to block them from even looking at her. “Only scum I see standing on the street are the three people in front of me.”

My arms cross over my chest. “The ones who live in glass houses.”

I can feel her shaking behind me. “The ones who still think their shit doesn’t stink, but the minute they walk into the room, it reeks of shit.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

Winston steps before his father to stand in front of me, and I have to look down at him.

“You think you scare me?”

I stare into the eyes that are exactly like his father’s and his brother’s and laugh bitterly. “I was friends with a devil in sheep’s clothing and didn’t know.”

He grinds his teeth. “But you guys knew”—I point at him—“knew that he was a no-good piece of—”

“Is that any way to speak of the dead?”

Mrs. Cartwright holds a hand to her throat.

“Is the way you just spoke to Autumn any way to speak to a woman who was the victim of your son?”

I hiss at them, wanting Winston to put his hands on me, secretly begging him to do it so I can beat the ever-loving shit out of him. I stare at Winston. “You guys are a joke.”

I turn and look at Autumn, who is trying to breathe, but knowing she’s about to lose it and doesn’t want to do it in front of them. “Let’s go.”

I grab her hand in mine as I shield her and walk away from them, stopping next to Mr. Cartwright. My voice goes very low so only he can hear me. “And if I find out that you pull any more shit on her, you’ll have to deal with me and my family.”

I smile. “And between you and me, I would love nothing more than to drag your name through the mud.”

He turns his eyes toward me. “Again.”

I walk away with her hand in mine and her head looking down at the ground. “Don’t do it,”

I say. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

She looks at me, and I hold out my hand. “Keys.”

She lets go of my hand to reach into her purse and hands me the keys as she gets into the car. I pull out of the parking lot, going in the opposite direction of her house. She looks over at me. “Where are we going?”

I know I should take her home. I know she should go back to the place she feels safest, but there is somewhere else that I want her to feel safe in. “My house.”