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“I know.”
“Unless it’s because you fall in love. Then I would forgive you. Plus, your father and I are retired, so if that happens, we can follow you and be those annoying parents next door.”
There was no stopping the laugh that fell from my mouth. It was a surprise to hear her say that. “I’m not sure it’s your thing, Ma.”
“I could do it. I could be a small-town woman.”
She could do anything she set her mind to. I didn’t doubt that. Still… “At this point, I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me.”
“You never know, dear.”
“I love you. I’m gonna go now. Talk to you soon.”
“Talk soon. I love you too.”
We ended the call, and I didn’t waste any time grabbing my things and heading out to the grocery store. Sitting at home alone all night was the last thing I wanted. Inviting myself over to Brian’s place might get me in trouble, but I’d never claimed to be a good boy. Doing the unexpected had gotten me a lot of things in life, and I wasn’t going to change now.
But even more than that, I just wanted to spend time with him, and life was too short to deny yourself something that felt so good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brian
I got home from work, took a shower, and got dressed. There was an unfamiliar itch beneath my skin that made it hard to relax or concentrate. Being alone was my thing. It’s what I had done most of my life, but now, after one night of having Charles here, I was having all sorts of conflicting thoughts, the house suddenly seeming bigger and lonelier than it ever had.
I rubbed a hand over my chest, trying to massage out the tightness there. Fresh air was calling my name, so I went to the back deck, sat down, and pulled out my phone, staring at the texts from Charles. He hadn’t returned my last message, but then, I’d told him I couldn’t talk because I’d be distracted. I reckoned I should message him, let him know I was off work and could talk now, but he’d probably just wanted to complain about horse shit. He hadn’t said to text back, and I couldn’t decide what I would say. He was likely busy by now, maybe doing…hell, something. Whatever it was people did. Maybe he was with Sammy Joe and Emerson and I’d interrupt, but he’d feel like he had to talk to me. And since I had nothing to say, what was the point?
Just as I was shoving my phone into my pocket, I heard gravel crunching and the soft rumble of a car. It was too quiet, too smooth to be Sutton’s or Jasper’s truck. It had to be Charles. No one else came around. My stomach did a strange tumbling thing. I’d been sitting there worrying over sending him a message, and now I didn’t know how to act, knowing he was likely here.
I made my way around the house just as he parked and got out. Even though he was just in jeans and a T-shirt, like always they looked pressed and new, so different from mine. My jeans had a hole in one knee, and I’d been wearing the same sneakers for years.
When Charles saw me over the hood of his car, he gave me a bright smile that I swear practically glowed, like he was really happy to see me, though I couldn’t work out why he would be. But then, he was that kind of guy, so he probably looked at everyone like that. Still, it made my stomach dip now and feel like I was falling.
“I brought dinner! No arguing. You supplied the food last time, so I got it this time. Come help me grab the stuff.” He went straight for the trunk like this was a normal, everyday thing for him.
There was a moment when I thought about saying no, that he didn’t need to bring food and I was busy, because this wasn’t a thing that people just did—showing up at my place this way. But I didn’t want to tell him that. I didn’t know what I did want, but it wasn’t for him to leave. Maybe it was the music. Maybe I just enjoyed playing with him so much.
So without a clue about what I was doing, I headed over to him. Charles handed me two grocery bags, then grabbed the other two.
“Glad you didn’t cut off any fingers today. That would have sucked.”
I chuckled. “Puttin’ it mildly.”
Charles led the way to the porch, then opened the door, not a care in the world. I wondered if anything ever rattled him. If he was truly as comfortable in his skin as he seemed, or if he was just better at hiding it than me.
