Charlie
July 31, 2016
I WAS THAT girl.
On the rare occasion that I was in the house by myself, I was that girl who lay on her couch watching sappy love movies and eating chocolate because of a bad breakup.
Except we hadn’t technically broken up because we’d never actually been together.
And instead of a sappy love movie, I was watching Beauty and the Beast, and still wondering how my life hadn’t turned out the way I wanted it to.
And my hands weren’t covered in melted chocolate, or holding a spoon that dipped in the tub of ice cream over and over again; they were holding the book I was simultaneously reading.
That. Those two things. I blamed them for why my life was the way it was.
Once upon a time and happily ever after . . . words I grew up hearing from Disney and children’s stories, and words I’d always believed in. As I grew up and my reading material grew with me, my standards for my Prince Charming morphed, but never lessened. I was so sure I would find my Prince Charming, even if he wasn’t as princely as I’d dreamed when I was a little girl.
I glanced down to the book in my hands . . .
As I said, my reading material had grown with me.
I’d always thought every event in our lives—major or otherwise—was just another part of our story that made us who we were meant to be for our Prince Charming. I knew my story would never be found forever engraved on the pages of a novel—only woven within the songs in my notebook—but still I waited for my love story to put all other love stories to shame. For my happily ever after . . .
Only to find out that none of it was real.
“He’s not really changing for you or falling in love with you, he’s lying to you to get what he wants. He just wants the curse to be broken,” I mumbled, and looked back at my book. I froze when I realized what I’d just done.
Oh no, I’m also that girl.
The one who tries to stop a fictional character from making a mistake with another, even though there is no mistake to be made. I was trying to stop my favorite Disney couple from being together. That would be pathetic any day. After almost a month? It was depressing.
At least I wasn’t in three-day-old pajamas, and I had still gone to work that day, as I had every scheduled day that month. Because I refused to let Deacon Carver see how he had broken me with his words and when he’d walked away.
Not that he’d seen me, but this town talked.
“That’s right, Belle. Run home.”
My head snapped up when someone knocked on the door, and I quickly searched for my phone so I could check the time.
Grey and Jagger had taken Keith today instead of having me take him to the babysitter’s, but they’d said they had something planned and wouldn’t be back for another couple hours.
My arms tingled as goose bumps covered my skin, and my heart steadily beat faster and faster as I slowly stood from the couch and walked toward the door.
No one else ever came over here, and I knew it was stupid to dream it could be him, but I wasn’t able to stop it.
Irrational, betraying heart.
I’d spent so much time during the past month agonizing over my heartache, and even more time thinking of where I had gone wrong. How I’d kept expecting Deacon to revert back to his old self. And, most important, how I’d continued a relationship—for lack of better word—with Stranger even though I’d known deep down that it was wrong, once Deacon and I had taken a turn in ours. But no matter how much blame I put on myself for our downfall, Deacon had betrayed me just the same. Because as Deacon had said, he was there for every conversation, as was I . . .
Stranger had known the way to my heart, and had very clearly needed Words the way I’d needed him.
Stranger had told me he didn’t know if he’d be able to walk away from me, from our conversations, and I’d known what he was saying was true.
And while Deacon was subconsciously falling in love with me, Stranger had fallen for Words.
Stranger had taught me how to trust someone with my heart by taking the small pieces of it and putting it back together, one conversation at a time. Our conversations and his words left their mark; I would never deny that. But he and I knew that what he was doing was preparing me for someone else. And once my heart had been made whole again . . . I gave it freely to Deacon.
Deacon had told me that he wanted a life with my son and me. He’d made me believe he was giving me his heart in return.
He’d made me believe it was only me for him, when in reality—or depending on how you looked at the situation—I wasn’t.
I never had been.
Another knock sounded, and I held my breath as I reached out for the knob.
I opened the door, and the breath I’d been holding rushed out as disappointment flooded me.
Irrational, betraying heart.
“Graham. Hi.”
“Hey, how are you?”
“Uh . . .” I had just realized how devastatingly depressed I was a few minutes before, and had foolishly hoped I would open the door to someone else. But Graham was Deacon’s best friend, and I couldn’t allow him to see my pain. “I’m great. You?”
“Good, good.” He looked pointedly at me. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, right.” I quickly backed away, and opened the door wider. “I’m sorry.”
Graham stepped inside my house, and smirked when he saw what was playing on the TV. After turning around in a circle in the living room, he faced me, and just stared.
“What are you doing here?” I finally asked.
“What, can’t I just come visit?” Something in my expression must have answered him for me, since Graham hadn’t been to the house since he’d helped me move in. He sucked in a quick breath through his teeth, then released it. “Yeah, all right. Uh, I’m here to get Deacon’s phone.”
It felt as if my entire body fell through the floor at the mention of his name. It was the first time I’d heard it said out loud since the night he’d walked away. I swayed on my feet before I was able to steady myself, and shook my head to clear it. “You what?”
“Deacon wants his phone,” he responded. “He asked me to come get it.” At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.
I turned my head slowly toward my bedroom when I heard something come from that direction, but my eyes stayed on Graham as long as they could before dragging to look blankly down the empty hall.
“Hey, and no hard feelings, right?” he said on a rush.
“What?” I breathed, my voice sounded pained.
“About Kate.”
I looked back at Graham, my brow drawn together. “Kate? Kate . . . that you grew up with, Kate?” When Graham nodded, I asked, “What about her?”
Graham stuffed his hands in his pockets and lifted his shoulders to his ears. “We’re dating now.”
I think I looked shocked. I felt it, but I was still reeling from hearing Deacon’s name, and the fact that he’d sent Graham to come pick up something he’d left at my house weeks ago.
I hadn’t expected Graham to date anyone, ever. Then again, I hadn’t expected Deacon to, either. “That’s great. Why would there be hard feelings?”
“Well, considering I almost got my ass handed to me because you thought I was some stranger, or something.” He placed a hand on his chest, and ignored the way my cheeks reddened. “I’m flattered, Charlie, really. But, I’ve been waiting for Kate to give me the time of day my entire life. I’m sorry if you wanted me to be some guy on a phone, but—”
“Wait, what? No.” I cut him off, and made a face. “Graham, I didn’t want you to be the guy I was talking to; I just thought you were him. Every time I saw you, you ended up saying something that was nearly identical to what Stranger had said.”
“Huh, well this is embarrassing.” He brought his hands together with a clap. “How about that phone?”
Right. The phone. Deacon’s phone, which had randomly gone off with messages over the first week from girls I didn’t know who wanted a night with him. I guess he would miss that phone.
I gestured down the hall, and started walking that way. “Yeah, it’s in my room.”
Graham’s mouth suddenly pulled into a wry grin. “Perfect.”
I faltered at his look and tone, and said uneasily, “I’ll bring it to you.”
He held up his hands. “I’ll wait here.”
I hurried down the hall and into my room, and tried to hold back the angry tears that welled in my eyes as I searched through my nightstand for his phone. The fact that he wanted this phone back, the fact that he had been avoiding me for the better part of a month, the fact that he was gone . . .
It hurt, it made me angry, it made me want to beg him not to be that guy.
I gripped the phone in my hand and pulled it out of the drawer, but had taken only a step away when I noticed my notebook lying open on my bed. The same notebook that was supposed to be inside the drawer I’d just been searching through.
I reached for the notebook, but paused halfway there. My heart skipped, then painfully took off when I saw the page it was on.
It was lists of names of guys I knew in Thatch. Guys I worked with at Mama’s. Guys that I knew for sure had come into Mama’s the days the notebook had been passed back and forth between Stranger and me. Guys that could have possibly been Stranger.
Nearly all of them were crossed out. Deacon’s included.
Graham’s name was circled a few times with question marks following it.
On the very top of the page was a note in a messy scrawl I had memorized, and knew as well as my own. A note that hadn’t been there before.
Words . . . I told you I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to walk away from you. Turns out I was only able to after you broke my heart and I tore out the pieces to leave with you. Hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. Second hardest was staying away. . .
A shiver moved slowly down my spine when I heard my bedroom door softly click shut, but I didn’t take my eyes off the note when I felt him move toward me.
“You aren’t supposed to sweep me off my feet, Stranger,” I whispered.
“Third hardest,” he began in a low, rumbling voice, and stepped up behind me. “Not being able to stop myself from telling Keith that I love him after seeing him for the first time in four weeks—”
My chest hitched with a silent sob. One of my hands covered my mouth while the other pressed firmly against the bed to help me stay standing.
“—and realizing that I might not ever get the chance to tell you that I love you.”
Deacon’s large hands slid around my waist and shoulder to turn me, and my first glimpse of him after all this time made me want to crumble into tears and scream at him and kiss him and apologize and a dozen other things.
“I couldn’t figure out why it felt impossible to walk away from those conversations. But it’s because it was you. Always you, Charlie. Only you.”
All I managed to get out was a weak “Deac—” before my voice gave out, and he pulled me into his arms, his mouth crashed down onto mine.
“We can’t. I can’t,” I said against the kiss, and pressed against his chest.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. Fear swam through his light brown ones as they bounced back and forth, taking in mine. “Don’t say that.”
“How do we trust each other after this? How do we get past this?”
“One day at a time,” he said with all the confidence in the world. “We both fucked up by not walking away from those conversations long ago. I hurt you that night I walked away, I know.” He pressed his forehead against mine, and asked, “Charlie Girl, did you give me your heart?”
The tremor in his voice, as if he was afraid of what my answer would be, made my chest ache. “Yes, but—”
“Do you regret it?”
I stared into his eyes for long moments, then slowly shook my head. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t. “You caused so much chaos in my shattered heart for years, and I always shied away from it, and then hated you for it when I moved back. But you—Stranger—put my heart back together so I could give it to you. It was always meant to be yours.”
His eyes seemed to burn, and his hands moved to curve around the slope of my neck and tilt my head back until our lips brushed. “An hour ago, I was still so sure that I didn’t know what love was. That it didn’t exist. Then Keith . . . that kid . . .” He trailed off and his chest moved with his silent laugh before the amusement suddenly left his face. Almost absentmindedly, he shook his head. His thumbs brushed along my jaw. “Things can change in just a couple minutes when you think you’re losing everything . . . yeah?” he asked, bringing up our conversation from our last night together.
I nodded slowly.
“Funny what suddenly becomes clear in an instant when even half of what you’ve lost comes running back to you.”
I didn’t know where he’d seen Keith, but I was thanking God for that reunion.
“We have a lot to get through. We have a lot of trust we have to build back up, but I won’t give up until we do. Because I want my days to consist of superheroes and powers, and ladybugs and Darth Vader, even though the last two have nothing to do with Marvel comics.”
A muted laugh escaped my lips as I attempted to contain my smile.
He backed me up until my legs hit the bed, and laid me down as he crawled on top of me. “I want my mornings to begin with you in my arms, and my nights to end with me inside you.” His mouth brushed against the base of my neck, then my jaw and both of my cheeks. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again. I can’t promise I won’t fuck up. I can’t promise I won’t say something wrong. But I promise I’ll take care of your heart for the rest of my life, Charlie Girl. You’ve shown me what it means to love someone, and I swear to Christ I love you.”
“I love you too,” I choked out past the tightness in my throat.
He dipped his head, but stopped just above my mouth. “Is this the part of the story where the hero kisses the girl?”
A soggy laugh burst from my chest, and I nodded even as I said accusingly, “I thought you weren’t a hero.”
“Superheroes get the girls too.”
His mouth captured mine with the kind of force I’d come to expect and crave from Deacon, and my body melted beneath his when he gently prodded my lips with his tongue.
Always asking, always devouring when I gave.
Always perfect.
Deacon tensed when shouting came from the front of the house, and seconds later, the door to the bedroom burst open.
We barely had time to stop kissing before the sound of light feet met with the scream, “Superman!” and then there was nothing at all.
Crap.
Deacon let out a low oof, and I grunted with the weight of Keith landing sideways on top of him.
We both looked over at the cheesy grin lighting up my son’s face as he watched us. “Are you pissing Mommy?”
“Oh gosh. Bud, it’s kissing. He was kissing Mommy.”
Keith sighed dramatically. “That’s what I said!”
Deacon’s smile matched Keith’s. “I was.”
My eyes stopped mid-roll when I realized what had just happened. I pulled in a soft gasp. “Baby, who are you?”
Blue, blue eyes found me, smiling just as much as the rest of his face. “Mommy, don’t be silly. I’m Superman!”
My chest felt heavy with every emotion, the most prominent of which was all the love for my little man. “You are?” I asked as I wiggled out from underneath Deacon, my voice thick with my surprise and excitement.
“Who else would I be?” Keith started to ask just before I pulled him into the tightest hug.
“Whoever you want to be,” I whispered against his head as I peppered it with kisses.
I glanced up at Deacon as my mouth split into the widest smile. Holding Keith tighter to my chest, I covered his free ear, and whispered to Deacon, “He’s only been Keith since you left. Wouldn’t even talk about it. Any of it.”
Pain and acceptance flashed across Deacon’s features. He nodded once, then ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Pinning me with his stare, he mouthed, “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Can’t you see how happy I am?” I released Keith, and said, “Hey, buddy, are Aunt Grey and Uncle J still here?”
Keith nodded enthusiastically. “We brought dinner!”
“Okay, why don’t you go back out there, and we’ll follow you right out.”
Deacon waited until Keith was running away screaming to say, “I never should’ve walked, Charlie.”
“We both shouldn’t have done or said what we did.” I traced his handsome face, and let the tips of my fingers linger on his lips. “Deacon, I don’t want Graham. I’ve never wanted Graham.”
“I know.” He nodded toward the door. “I heard you.”
That didn’t surprise me. As soon as I’d heard him walking up behind me in the room, I’d known he had to have heard everything.
“And the song . . . you have to understand what happened with the song on that last night.” I grabbed the notebook where it rested beside me, and flipped quickly to the finished song. “Look at the chorus. Read it.” I waited for a few seconds, before I asked, “Do you see it? ‘When I look at you like that’ . . . Deacon, when had I ever knowingly looked at Stranger before I finished the song? The chorus was about you. I was only falling in love with you.”
His eyes met mine and flashed with understanding and awe. “Charlie Girl,” he murmured, his voice weighed down.
“And that last message . . .” I trailed off and shook my head. “I don’t know if you’ll ever believe me, but I was going to tell Stranger good-bye that night. I thought he deserved to see the full song. Once he—once you responded, I was going to explain the chorus and tell him that I was done. But there was no response, and then you were back in my room.”
There was a short hesitation before Deacon sighed. As he spoke, he moved to sit on the bed and pulled me into his arms. “All I saw that night was that you messaged him and I saw the words heart and love, and I lost it. I didn’t even fully grasp the other words; I didn’t understand that it didn’t fit for someone you’d never seen. But it makes sense now.”
My eyes landed on the phone resting forgotten at the foot of my bed. “That phone . . .”
Another long sigh. “I never thought I would hate that I had that phone.”
“It went off a lot that first week before it finally died.”
Deacon’s forehead landed on my shoulder, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. “I had it for the girls I slept with. I didn’t want them to have my real number. I gave it to Words because I was trying to figure out if she was one of them . . . if she was someone I should stop talking to immediately. Didn’t know the number when you messaged me, obviously. Didn’t even recognize yours when Grey sent it to me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
My stomach churned and chest ached, but I tried to push those feelings away. I knew this was from a different Deacon. A lifetime ago.
“After that day I forgot to pick you up from work, I have only used that phone to talk to Words. No one else. Graham knew I was still using it, and he and Knox about lost their minds because they knew I was seeing you. But I didn’t tell them about Words until after the Fourth.” He nodded in the direction of my door. “Graham’s waiting to set the phone on fire.”
“I’ll help.”
Deacon’s fingers curled around my jaw to turn my head to face his. He was smiling sadly. “I’m so damn sorry.”
“One day at a time?” I asked hesitantly.
“One day at a time,” he agreed, and pressed his mouth to mine. “Only you, Charlie Girl.”
My body warmed with his words and his kiss, but it ended soon after when we heard Keith yelling in the front of the house.
After another lingering kiss, I pushed against his chest. “Come on, let’s go destroy this phone and eat with everyone before Keith comes storming in again.”
“That’s why Jagger tried to keep us apart,” he mumbled as he helped me off the bed. When I looked back at him with a confused expression, he clarified, “Graham told him about the phone. Everyone thought I was sleeping around on you.”
“Oh.” My eyes shut, and I released a slow breath as we walked toward the door leading to the hallway. “That’s something else we’ll have to deal with later.”
“What, your brother?”
I arched a brow when I looked back up into those light brown eyes. “Yeah. He’s not going to believe you as easily as I did.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I told him earlier that I was spending the rest of my life with you and your son.”
I faltered, then stopped. “You what? What did he say?”
A mischievous smirk flashed across Deacon’s face as he bent to kiss me. “You found me in your room, didn’t you? He wouldn’t have helped me through the window if he wasn’t okay with me marrying you someday.”
I stared openmouthed at him for long seconds after he pulled away, and that smirk on his face grew.
“You and your words, Charlie Girl.”