Shattered Dreams (Dream #1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Charlie

I pick up my burger to take a bite, my lips still tingling from kissing her, when my mother says, “So tell me, Autumn, are you dating anyone?”

I swear I stop mid bite to look up at Autumn to see her face. And I don’t think I am the only one who looks at her. I’m pretty sure my father does also, but all I can do is watch her face. “Does the silence mean you are or you aren’t?”

She smiles. “Um…”

“Why don’t we not put her on the spot?”

my father suggests, taking a bite of his burger.

“Oh, I know who you could date.”

My mother takes a french fry and dips it in ketchup, and I really wish she would shut up right about now. I also really fucking hope she doesn’t say me. “We should set her up with Emmett.”

The minute my mother says that, I throw my burger back down on the plate. “No fucking way,”

I blurt a lot more tensely than I want to say.

“Why not?”

My mother looks at me, waiting for me to come up with an answer, but the only answer I have is no.

“Yes, Charlie,”

my father chimes in, “why not?”

I glare at both of them. My mother looks at me, waiting for an answer, but my father, he’s got a look on him that is playful, almost as if he’s enjoying this.

“She’s gorgeous.”

Mom points at Autumn, and there is no denying that. “And he’s good-looking.”

“Willow,”

my father warns, and I look over at him.

“What’s the matter, Dad?”

I ask, and his look has changed from playful to almost lethal. “He’s good-looking.”

It’s funny that no matter how many years they’ve been married and even knowing how much my mother loves him, he still gets jealous when she talks about how good-looking another man is, even if it’s in passing to my sister or even my aunts.

“I’m really not looking at dating anyone,”

Autumn interjects, and I look over at her. “I’m just focusing on the business.”

“Now that’s a sensible answer,”

my father says, “but all work and no play is not how to live a life.”

“That’s what I tell this one.”

My mother points at me with her thumb before picking up her burger. “It’s fine he’s doing his thing”—she waves her finger at me—“sowing the oats.”

“Willow,”

my father snaps, turning to Autumn, whose face has now paled. “Can she have a water?”

“Quinn Barnes, don’t you dare think you are going to take my drink away from me,”

she retorts. “These two are watching life just run away from them.”

“Why don’t we change the subject?”

I pick my burger back up.

“Okay, fine,”

my mother gives in, “but I want you to be watching out for her.”

She looks at Autumn and then at me. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“Oh, I’ll look after her, all right,”

I assure her, my eyes on Autumn as she turns her eyes to me. It’s right then and there that I decide the only man who is going to fucking date her is me.

“What are we talking about?”

Brady asks, coming to stand next to Autumn.

“Autumn and how she should date Emmett,”

my mother answers as my father puts his head back and looks up at the ceiling.

“She just had a date,”

Brady cuts in, and the burger in my mouth tastes horrible.

“With Emmett?”

My mother gasps out and looks like she’s about to clap her hands in glee.

“No.”

Brady shakes his head. “What was his name?”

He snaps his fingers until he gets it. “Bryan.”

“Can we stop talking about this?”

Autumn urges while I put one hand on my hip, the other tapping the bar.

“So you are dating?”

my mother asks her.

“It was one date,”

she mumbles, “and we decided that we were just going to be friends.”

“Well, that’s good. Have you been to the barn lately?”

my father asks her, changing the subject.

“I have, actually. I went over there to ride Goldilocks,”

she replies and I wonder if she thought about lying to him, but then wonder if I told him she was there. Whatever the reason, I’m happy the conversation about her dating is fucking over.

“I met her today,”

my mother says. “She’s so pretty.”

“She is,”

Autumn agrees. “I have to check on the tables.”

She turns to walk away from us, leaving us with Brady as the talk turns to I don’t know what because I’m only watching her work the room, smiling at people and conversing with them. It’s different from when I came in here the first time and she would cower behind the bar.

She works the room, not noticing how the men look at her. She smiles politely, avoiding looking at them, as she goes back behind the bar but makes orders instead of talking to us.

We finish our burgers, and my father talks to Brady about buying some of the whiskey and taking it home. “Come and take a look in the back,”

Brady invites him and my mother, and they go with Brady, leaving me all alone.

I watch her make her way around the room until she comes back to me. “Where did they go?”

she asks, picking up the plates, cleaning them up behind the counter before placing them into the dishwasher.

“Your brother is giving them a tour. My dad wants to take home a couple of cases of the new blend,”

I say. I want to ask more about the date she went on, but my mother comes back and the three of us talk about nothing in particular.

My father comes back after loading five cases into his truck, and they get up to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

my mother tells Autumn, and Autumn just nods at her. I take one more look at her before walking out with my parents. My mother sits in the back as we drive back to my house.

“That was such a nice night,”

my mother says to me when we get home, and she steps outside. “We should do that again tomorrow.”

“Yes,”

my father agrees as he holds her hand and walks up the steps to the front door, “just with less whiskey.”

I chuckle when she slaps his arm. “Are you not coming in with us?”

My mother looks at me because I’m standing by the truck.

“I’m going to go for a walk,”

I tell them.

“A walk where?”

my mother asks, and my father stands beside her, with his lips held tight together.

“Around, I’ll be back later.”

“How much later?”

“Willow,”

my father cuts in, “how about we let him do what he needs to do.”

“And what is that?”

She glares at my father. “It’s enough, don’t you think?”

My father puts his hands on her shoulders. “It’s been eight years. It’s time for him to come back to the land of the living and live.”

“I’m living,”

I assure her as she sniffles back the tears running down her face. My father lifts his hand to wipe them away. “I promise, Mom, I’m fine.”

She turns to look at me. “I’m better than I think I ever was.”

“I know,”

she responds softly. “I can see it. I can feel it.”

The smile on her face is soft as my father puts an arm around her neck and pulls her to him, kissing her on the top of her head. My mother didn’t have the best childhood and was left for dead by her mother’s husband, who was using her to steal people’s identities. My mother is a computer wiz, so she sometimes works with my grandfather. She’s the only one who can crack his firewall, and she’s happy to do it each and every time. “We want you to be happy,”

she says. “The only thing a parent can wish for is that their child is healthy and happy.”

“I’m getting there, Mom,”

I admit to her. “I might have been lost along the way, but I’m getting back.”

I’m not lying either, not like I used to do back then. Saying the words just to say them so she wouldn’t worry. But she saw right through me, they all did. The only one I was fooling was myself.

“Okay.”

She wraps her arms around my father’s waist. “We’re here if you need us.”

“Don’t wait up,”

I say, pushing off and heading toward the forest. When I look over my shoulder at my house, I see they aren’t there watching me. I make my way toward the cemetery, stopping at her grave site. “Hey,”

I say, getting down in a squat, “I know I haven’t been here in a while.”

I don’t know why, but I smile. “Not sure if you noticed or not. Or if you saw anything. I still miss you, but it’s a different feeling now.”

My eyes are on her name like I expect her to say something to me, but the only thing in the night is the sound of crickets. I don’t know how long I sit here; it could have been five minutes or it could have been an hour. But for the first time, leaving her is not with a feeling of dread. It’s with a lightness as if the pressure on my chest has been taken off. “I’ll come and visit again soon.”

I stand and put my hand on the cold gray marble. “I might even bring her with me.”

I smile and turn to walk toward her house.

I walk out of the clearing toward her house at the same time I see her walking out of the back door. She’s out of her jeans and in another pair of shorts, but this time, they are tight and mold to her body. The tank top stops just under her tits, showing off some of her stomach, making my mouth water. She sits on the swing and pushes off, looking out, and I know when she sees me because her foot stops moving. “What are you doing here?”

she asks as I take a step up.

“I told you I was coming here,”

I remind her as I walk up the steps and sit beside her on the swing, leaning sideways to kiss her neck. “Did you think I was lying?”

“Well…”

she starts, unsure of what to say, “I thought that maybe with your parents here.”

My hand finds hers on her leg as I pull her into me. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pick her up. She gasps in shock as I place her on my lap to straddle me. My arms wrap around her waist, and I pull her to me. She’s stiff for a couple of seconds before she melts into my chest and wraps her arms around my neck. Her head rests on my shoulder as her lips touch the side of my neck. “I missed you,”

I admit. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

I feel her lips on my neck, softly kissing me, “especially after you left this morning.”

“Charlie,”

she says, but her face never moves out of my neck. “Just drop it.”

“No,”

I say, tightening my hold on her. Was it the picture?”

Her body goes stiff in my arms, “I moved Jennifer’s picture.”

I tell her.

She moves away from me now, and I can feel her wanting to get off me. “Charlie.”

“I put it in the living room instead of the bedroom.”

I inform her, “I didn’t do it for you, I did it for me.”

“No, you didn’t,”

she snaps at me. “You are moving it back into your bedroom; that is where you want it.”

“I want it where it’s at, in the living room.”

My hands at her hips squeeze her. “I know you’ll never tell me to move it. I know you’ll never tell me to get rid of it, and that is all I need to know.”

“I would never ever do that.”

She shakes her head.

“I know, baby”—I bend to kiss her lips—“but you're in my bed now, and I want you there more than I want the picture there.”

I see her look down at her hands on my chest. “She’s where she needs to be.”

I don’t want to drag out this conversation any more than I need to. “Should we go to bed?”

“Yeah,”

she mumbles. I get up as she wraps her legs around me and hangs on tight, as I walk to the back door and open it before stepping in and locking it behind me. She lets go of my neck, leaving one hand wrapped around my shoulder while the other one holds my face. She turns her head to the side as she presses her mouth to mine, and I forget everything from the outside and the only thing I have on my mind is her.