Letting Go (Thatch #1)(40)
“Of course I did. She’d just finished telling me about all the employees who were leaving and being short staffed, and I told her you’d been looking into getting a job. She was going to call you to ask you to come in, but I told her I was meeting you here anyway. So . . . done! You now have a job.”
“Well then, thank you?” I laughed awkwardly. “Good to know I have people who will set up jobs for me.”
Charlie smirked. “Whatever. You know you would’ve applied as soon as you saw that sign. You’re in here enough as it is, you might as well work here.”
“Clearly.” I gestured in the direction Anne had walked off. “Anyway, on to other things. Is there anyone you’ve been interested in or seeing while we were at school . . . ?” I let the question trail off.
“No.”
“No? Come on, Charlie, there has to be someone. You are gorgeous—”
“And shy around anyone who isn’t you or my family,” she added, cutting me off. “There’s just no one here who catches my eye.”
“That doesn’t mean you haven’t caught their eye. Has anyone tried to talk to you?”
She looked like she was trying really hard to think, and finally she shrugged. “I don’t know; I don’t pay attention.”
“Why not? See? Those books you read are ruining you for real men.”
“They’re not!” she said on a laugh. “I’ve never had a boyfriend . . . I don’t want one.”
“So you’re just going to become an old cat lady . . . or a nun?” I asked, my voice and expression flat.
“No, I’m not. I just—I haven’t found someone who has shown himself to be worth my time.” That same sadness I’d seen earlier was back, and her eyes seemed somehow unfocused as if she were seeing things I couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Trust me, I’ll know when there’s a guy who’s worth it.”
I waited for a few moments to see if she would expand on that, and it wasn’t until I started talking again that she shook off her expression. “You’ve never dated anyone, and you seem to avoid guys, but you look like your heart has been shattered by someone. I don’t get it. Did something happen to you, Charlie?” I finished on a whisper, fear and panic clawing at my stomach at the thought of someone hurting her or taking advantage of her.
“What?” Her eyes widened when she got what I was asking. “No! Oh my God, no, nothing has happened to me. You would’ve known; Jagger would’ve been the first person I called if something like that ever happened.”
The panic and fear eased up, but I still didn’t understand how she could look like someone had broken her. “Then why—”
“It’s like you said,” she said loud enough to cut me off again, “the books I read are ruining me for real men. I know I’ll never find someone like the guys I read about, and it’s kind of depressing.” Charlie tried to laugh it off, but I knew that wasn’t it.
I stifled a gasp when it hit me, and leaned closer to her. “Charlie, no one will think differently of you if you’re gay.”
“Whoa, what? Grey, I’m not . . . I’m not into that. No. Really, you’re looking into this too hard. There’s nothing. No guys, no girls, nothing. Just me and my books and a depressing world of guys who will never be enough.”
I sat back and blew out a deep breath. “Sorry, I was just trying to understand where you’re coming from.”
She shook her head, a smile crossing her face. “Really, it’s fine. And I’m fine.”
I would’ve tried harder to believe her if her voice hadn’t cracked at the end, and if she didn’t look like she was seconds away from breaking down. I couldn’t think of anything to explain her sadness and knew she probably wouldn’t admit to it even if I had guessed correctly. But seeing her pain, I knew I would keep trying to figure out what had happened to her to make her so unhappy.
Chapter 9
Grey
July 31, 2014
MY FOOTSTEPS FALTERED as I walked out of The Brew a few days later, and my spine straightened as a chill ran through my entire body. Looking around to see if anyone was watching me, I glanced back at the piece of paper that was tucked in between the windshield and wiper and slowly closed the distance to my car, my eyes never leaving the seemingly harmless sheet. After unlocking the car and putting the coffee inside, I climbed back out and looked around one more time before reaching for the paper, ice sliding through my veins as I did so. There were people I knew all around, but none that looked like they were waiting for this . . . for me to find whatever had been left for me.
I could have easily walked around my car, inspecting it to see if someone had hit it and left their information, but I didn’t. And I didn’t let my mind even think of Jagger leaving me a letter . . . because not only was he at his place waiting for this coffee, but he wouldn’t do something like this to me. Because he knew. Everyone who knew us knew. Ben had left notes on my car every day. No matter what. It could’ve been something as simple as a smiley face or an I love you, or it could have been something long that had my heart melting. But every day after I got my first car, there had been a note. Notes that stopped abruptly with his death.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the paper with shaky hands. A cry burst from my chest as my eyes ran over the page, and I stumbled back. I looked around furiously for someone, anyone. There were people giving me worried looks, but none who looked like they knew exactly what I’d just seen. None who looked like they’d put Ben’s wedding vows on my windshield. His handwriting, words and lines crossed out as he’d tried to perfect the vows.