Where One Goes(58)

That invisible pull, that force, pulling me to what lies just beyond this world is strengthening as the weight of my worry for George lightens. I know he’s still fragile, and not quite out of the water just yet, but I think it’s time to tell him the truth. There will no doubt be some backlash on his part, and it may take him a few days to come to terms with all of this. But he needs to know the truth, and accept it. Speaking only for myself, this situation is tearing me apart. I want so badly for George to be better, to be happy, but his happiness involves him having something I would sell my soul to have. I’m an * for thinking this way. They’re the two people I love most in the world, and I want them to have each other when I’m gone, but watching it happen is hard.

I’m pacing the driveway when a blue Sedan pulls up and an older man in slacks and a green dress shirt steps out. His face is hard, like he’s pissed, and my body tenses. Who the hell is this guy, and why is he here? He pounds George’s front door repeatedly until Charlotte whips the door open, and her face falls, all the blood draining from it.

“Charlotte Anne,” the man grumbles, and I’m on high alert. Who is he, and how does he know her?

I morph inside the house and behind her when she says, “Daddy.”

My mouth drops open. So this is the * that treated her like a nut job and sent her away? I’d give my left nut to take a swing at this guy. Anyone who knows Charlotte, really knows her and her secrets, knows she’s not crazy. She’s beautiful and selfless. Look at what she’s done to help me, and what about the others before me?

“How did you find me?” she manages.

“The police called me and informed me my truck was in their possession in an investigation for murder and a break-in. The sheriff gave me the address of your motel, but when you weren’t there, they gave me this address.” Charlotte remains frozen, staring at him.

“May I come in?” her father asks after a long pause, although he’s not really asking. I can tell he’s using his fatherly tone with her. His eyes dart over her, taking in her attire. She’s wearing a shirt and George’s boxers, rolled up so many times her ass is kind of hanging out. I think it looks hot, but I guess from a father’s point of view, it wouldn’t.

“Actually, now’s not a good time,” she finally answers. “Where are you staying? I’ll come meet you there.” The panic she’s feeling is evident in her tone, at least it is to me. She’s scared her father will expose her to George. She steps out and closes the door slightly, forcing her father to step back. There’s enough of a crack that I can remain inside and still see both of them.

“I’m staying at Archer Valley Bed & Breakfast,” he tells her, and I didn’t think it was possible her face could get any paler, but it does. It’s a small f*cking world sometimes, and of course, of all the B&Bs in Bath County, her father would be staying at the one my parents own.

“It’ll be okay, Charlotte,” I tell her, like I always do, even though she never seems to believe me. Her hand is clenching the door knob, so when George whips it open, she almost falls, but he catches her. If her father was disapproving of her wardrobe already, George showing up shirtless isn’t helping.

“Uh . . . can I help you?” George asks as he holds Charlotte against him. I wish I could hold her steady while she feels like the world is cracking beneath her, but if I can’t, I’m glad George is here to do it. She needs someone to keep her grounded.

“I’m Wayne Acres, Charlotte’s father,” her father replies.

“Oh,” George says, taken aback. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” He immediately straightens himself and reaches out a hand to shake her father’s, but Mr. Acres ignores it.

“I’m just here for my daughter. Charlotte, you have no vehicle. Why don’t you get dressed and meet me in the car? Five minutes.” With that, he turns and heads back to his vehicle.

George closes the door and turns to Charlotte. “I think he likes me,” he tries to joke, but Charlotte misses the humor.

“It’s not you. I have to go.” She rushes back to his room and he follows. She’s so frantic she doesn’t notice either of us is in the room with her as she peels off her borrowed pajamas. And even though things are f*cked at the moment, we are men, and we both stare at her. When she’s fully dressed and turns, I expect her to glare and give George some quip about watching her, which would be meant for me as well, but she says nothing. She pushes past George and grabs her purse from the living room. When she moves to open the door, George places a flat palm against it, stopping her.

“You look like you’re about to have a heart attack. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “We don’t get along very well, and it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. I’m just shocked to see him is all.”


“You don’t have to go with him. I’ll go out there right now and tell him to get the hell off of my property.”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll call you later,” she says, as she kisses his cheek.

“I’m going to work tonight. I’ve been gone too long. I need to check on things and start getting back in the groove of things.”

“Okay,” she says. “Are you sure you’re ready?”