Show Me How (4 page)

 

Chapter Four

Charlie

May 30, 2016

I
PULLED INTO
the alleyway beside the warehouse minutes later, my mind still reeling from the stranger who had taken the time to write to someone they didn't know. I brought Jagger's car to an abrupt stop when I saw Keith dart from the warehouse to the front of my car, where it still sat from that morning.

I watched as he disappeared behind the propped-­up hood of my car, and my stomach dropped.

I looked around the alleyway, but saw only Grey's car in its usual spot. I tried to think if I'd seen any other cars parked on the street on my way in, but I'd been so consumed in another's words that I hadn't been paying attention.

My fingers danced anxiously on the steering wheel as I contemplated leaving, or finding another way to get into the warehouse—­like a window—­where I wouldn't have to walk past my car, and eventually I blew out a harsh, determined breath.

For all I knew, Jagger was attempting to figure out the problem with my car again. Doubtful, but not completely improbable.

But no matter how many times I told myself that my brother was there, I knew better. I knew who was standing behind that hood. And just the thought of seeing him made my stomach clench and my body tremble.

I pulled Jagger's car behind mine and shut it off. With another deep breath in, I stepped out and walked toward the sound of my son's animated voice. Each step felt weighed down and harder than the one before it.

When
his
voice wove between Keith's words, I faltered.

This was the problem with Thatch. There were no strangers in this town. Everyone knew everyone else's business. And there was nowhere to hide.

Shops closed down if the owners wanted to go spend time on the lake, and businesses made house calls.

Like the auto repair shop: Danny's Garage.

Like the mechanics there.

Especially when the owner's son was Deacon Carver.

Maybe I needed to leave. Take Keith and find a place to live somewhere outside this town. Because attempting to hide from the guy whose family practically owned Thatch was proving to be impossible.

“Aliens came from a spot in the sky.”

“Aliens!” Deacon said in a shocked voice. “Where?”

Keith sighed. “They're not here anymore. I'm Iron Man. I made them go back.”

Deacon sighed dramatically. “Kid, I don't know what the world would do without you.”

“I know,” Keith said seriously. “But that's why no one can fix Mommy's car, not even
you
! Because aliens hurted it.”

I walked into their view in time to see Deacon fighting a smile, his mouth slightly open to respond. But his large frame tensed when he caught sight of me, and his mouth fell into a sneer.

Irrational, betraying heart.

“Mommy!” Keith shouted as he barreled into my legs.

“Hey, honey,” I said softly, and ran a hand through his hair as he began talking a mile a minute.

“Mommy, Deaton's tryin' to fix your car, but I told him he couldn't fix your car. Because the aliens came after it. Right, Mommy? But I'm Iron Man and I made them go away so they can't come after any more cars.”

“I heard. I could've sworn I was woken up by Captain America this morning.”

He sighed. “That was like, five years ago!”

“Oh, of course,” I said as I fought my own smile, and turned us toward the warehouse. “Why don't we go inside so Deacon can work?”

My son's face fell, but it was Deacon who responded.

“
He
isn't bothering me,” he said in a gruff voice.

There was an odd pang in my chest as his words from the day before mixed with his implication then. Embarrassed heat crawled up my face, and despite how hard I tried not to, I looked over my shoulder at the angry scowl on his face.

Light brown eyes were narrowed on me, as cold as ever.

Again, the way he looked at me made me feel as though I deserved his anger—­and I wanted to hate him for it.

“Keith, go inside.”

“But—­”

“Go inside,” I whispered, but my tone left no room for discussion.

After an exaggerated huff, he trudged into the warehouse.

My embarrassment and hurt and anger snapped with the sound of the door shutting. “What did I ever do to you?” I demanded through clenched teeth, and turned to fully face Deacon as he pushed from my car, and rose to his full height.

“To me? Not a damn thing.”

A frustrated laugh burst from my chest, but my eyes pricked as tears gathered in them. “Then why have—­why are you—­I don't understand . . .” I trailed off, fumbling for the words as he slowly closed the distance between us.

For each step he took toward me, I took two back.

For as long as I could remember, Deacon had called me “Charlie Girl” and had tried to joke with me in an attempt to bring me out of my shell. But that Deacon had been missing for years. Out of his friends, he had been the fun one and nearly always had a lax smile and booming laugh . . . but that guy was nowhere to be found now.

Grey always referred to Deacon as a teddy bear. The man in front of me was anything but.

He was tall and had a large, intimidating frame, courtesy of his love for the gym. His white shirt stretched tight over his chest and shoulders, and was stained with grease, as was his jaw. His dark hair was wild from running his hands through it over the course of the day. And his honey-­colored eyes, darkened with frustration, highlighted the angry set of his mouth, which curled into a taunting smile when I backed into the warehouse wall.

“You gonna try to finish that thought, Charlie?” he asked in a low voice. “Is the shy, sweet girl trying to find a backbone for once? Oh wait, no, you know all about backs, don't you? You were probably on yours when you got pregnant.”

My mouth slowly fell open as his words tore through me. “What?” The word was nearly inaudible, but I couldn't find my voice anymore.

“Everyone around here acts like you've done nothing wrong, and I don't fucking get it. Shy, sweet Charlie,” he mocked again. “No one would have ever expected you to try to ruin a relationship—­and who knows how much longer you would've gotten away without anyone knowing?”

“You know
nothing
,” I choked out.

He placed his hands on the wall above me, and leaned down. “I know you fucked Grey's fiancé . . . that's all I need to know.”

“It wasn't—­”

“It wasn't
what
?” he asked in a dangerous tone, cutting me off. “Somehow you have everyone around us feeling
sorry
for you because you had to “deal” with Ben's death alone. Had to hide the pregnancy, and then pretend Keith wasn't yours. None of that would have happened if you'd kept your legs closed in the first place.”

“You're an asshole.”

Deacon barked out a sharp laugh. “Why? Because I'm the only one who would dare be mad at
innocent
Charlie for what she did to a girl who is like my sister? Because I'm not as blind as the rest of them? You somehow twisted the situation around so that everyone was not only mad at, and blaming, Ben for something that
you
had equal part in, and then lied about for years; but you also had them feeling fucking sorry for you! Forgive me for seeing the situation for what it was,” he said with a sneer, then pushed away from me and turned back toward my car, but called over his shoulder, “Go on, go tell Grey and Jagger so they can feel sorry for you some more.”

I wiped at the few tears that managed to fall, and gritted out, “I don't need or want anyone to feel
sorry
for me. I have never claimed to be innocent, and I will always hate myself more than anyone else could for what I did to Grey. But I will never be able to regret what happened because it gave me Keith, and he is the best thing in my life.”

“What?” He glanced over at me from where he was now bent under the hood again. “You mean the kid you pawned off on your brother for a year? Yeah, excuse me if I don't buy your
perfect mother
act, either.”

No!
A shuddering breath left me as fear and lifelong insecurities clawed at me.
He doesn't know me; I'm not like my mother
, I thought desperately.

As soon as he released me from his cold stare, I turned and slipped inside the warehouse, letting the weight of my body shut the door as I stumbled back against it.

I looked up at the ceiling and blinked quickly, trying to force the tears away, but my chest still heaved with a silent sob.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hate him so much . . . but I couldn't. Because Deacon had just said everything I'd been thinking of myself for years.

Ben, Jagger, and Grey had been best friends for most of their lives, and even though Ben had been with Grey for years, I'd loved him for as long as I could remember. He was my Prince Charming, my white knight coming to rescue me from my tower, my everything . . . even if only in secret.

It wasn't until the spring of my senior year of high school that I'd found out my feelings hadn't been one-­sided.

“Why do I want you so bad when I love her? And why do I love her when I know she should be with him?”
Tortured, whispered words I'd waited years to hear, and words I would never forget.

For two nights, my fairy tale seemed to come true. For two nights, everything seemed to finally be right in the world. I had Ben, and Jagger would finally have Grey. The way it was always meant to be.

Before I could even begin to grasp the high Ben had given me, he yanked it away the night he asked Grey to marry him, and drove the knife a little deeper when he told me that what we'd done was a mistake. As I had told Deacon, a mistake I would never regret, because it gave me my son. But months later, just before their wedding, Ben had died from an undetected, rare heart condition. He'd known about Keith, but only for a short time before he was gone.

Upon my mom's demand, I kept the pregnancy a secret, pretended it was her child, and didn't tell anyone the truth until Keith was two years old.

I've never felt so free as when those words left my lips.

Not because a secret that had been weighing on me was finally out in the open, but because after years, I was finally allowed to grieve for the only love I'd ever had.

And now, four years after his death, and I still hurt. It felt like a weight was pressing on my chest when I thought of him, making it nearly impossible to breathe. It felt like something vital to my body and soul had been ripped from me.

Four years later, and I still wanted to hate him for what he'd done to me, and the way he'd treated me, in those last months. I wanted the chance to yell at him face to face for telling me that he loved me, but wasn't
in
love with me, after taking everything from me and making me believe that we could have it all.

Four years later, and I was still so sure that I was in love with him despite everything. I had a feeling the greatest love I would ever know had been taken from me too soon—­and I would never know anything like it again.

Four years later, and guilt still clawed at my chest whenever I thought of how I betrayed Grey, even though she had clearly found her happy ever after with my brother.

And Deacon Carver had taken it, all of my grief and my hatred and my guilt, and thrown it in my face.

Fast, little footsteps sounded down the hallways, headed in my direction.

I quickly swiped at another tear that fell free, and blew out a slow, calming breath before pushing away from the door. I turned just in time to watch Keith fly into the living room—­his smile was wide, and his face smudged with black streaks.

“Look, Mommy! Now I'm like Deaton and Uncle J!”

My stomach clenched, but my smile didn't falter as I lifted him into my arms to get a better look at his charcoal-­covered face. “Wow, look at you! Is Uncle J drawing?”

He nodded enthusiastically, then began squirming. “I wanna go show Deaton!”

“Uh . . .” I sucked in air through my teeth, and scrunched up my nose. “How about not right now, buddy? He's busy, remember?”

Grey and Aly emerged from the hall, quickly followed by Jagger.

“What do you think?” Jagger asked, beaming at me. Just like Deacon, he had black smudges on his jaw, and his hands were stained the same.

Only difference was Jagger created art to earn those stains, and Deacon was probably destroying my car out of spite.

Before I could answer, Keith repeated, “I wanna go show Deaton!”

I hesitated before letting him down. “Okay . . . but only for a second!” I added on quickly. “He's busy.”

“All right!” Keith shouted, and rushed out of the building.

I didn't realize I was staring at the closed door, chewing on my bottom lip until Grey bumped my shoulder with hers.

“You look red, you okay?”

“Huh?” I said quickly, and turned to look at her and a sleepy Aly.

“I said you're red. Are you okay?”

I tilted my face away from Jagger when he came toward me. “Yeah, just a long day.” At least it wasn't a lie.

Grey's calculating eyes roamed over me, but Jagger spoke before she could.

“What'd Deacon say?”

My next breath got caught in my throat, and my body stilled as I finally met Jagger's gaze. My voice came out breathy as I fought against the trembling I had only just succeeded in stopping moments before. “What do you mean?”

“About your car?” he responded slowly, drawing out the words.

“Oh.” I hoped the relief that washed through me wasn't noticeable. “Um, I'm not sure. Car talk I don't understand.” I glanced back at the door and mumbled, “I should get Keith before Deacon freaks out that a child is near him.”