Chapter Eight
The smell of fresh fruit and spices hovered in the air while busy hands worked in silence completing the order. Lila took in the amazing man beside her, and her heart swelled with pride.
It was like they were teenagers again, and Charlie was the school jock who had accidentally revealed that he wasn’t so single-minded after all.
Back then, Charlie’s kind side had made an appearance because a freshman, Jarrett Lockton, was getting bullied for coming out. Charlie, a senior, walked over and draped his arm around Jarrett and told the crowd they could either stand there and watch Charlie and Jarrett getting their groove on or they could leave.
No one messed with Jarrett again, and somehow claiming he was gay to help out Jarrett did wonders for his popularity with the opposite sex. Every girl at the school wanted him, including Lila. Though that wasn’t news by that point. And it wasn’t like Charlie was looking at her anyway. He’d sooner look at Jarrett. But Lila never forgot the swell in her chest as Charlie pushed through the crowd, determination on his face as he told them to get lost.
It was the same face he wore when he walked over to Ed and announced the children’s hospital wouldn’t be paying their bill, even though they were boxing hundreds of fruits and veggies, and likely, the farm could use the money. Still, Charlie hadn’t batted an eye, hadn’t blinked, hadn’t even asked how much the hospital had ordered. His generous heart didn’t care.
“What are you grinning at?” he asked, bumping her elbow with his, causing a spark to ignite under her skin, and she wished she could ask him to do it again to see if the feeling would spread. It was dangerous to crave these feelings, but she couldn’t argue with how good it felt to be around someone she trusted so much. The attraction was one thing, but it was more than that with Charlie.
“And there it is again,” he said, pointing at her smile. “Are you going to make me guess?”
With a shrug, Lila tried to hide her face as she bent over the box in front of her to check its contents. “You’re just nice. That’s all.”
“Nice.”
“Very,” she said, returning to face him, but she’d misjudged her turn. Instead of being a good foot apart, like moments before, now no more than a few inches separated them. Lila tried to breathe as her gaze met his, but with the close distance and that spicy man smell of his and the look in his eyes that said he was thinking thoughts that might, just maybe, mirror hers, the breath caught in her lungs and instead she stared.
“You’re pretty nice yourself.” And then he reached up and gently pressed his forefinger to her cheek and then held it out for her. She reared back in confusion. “Eyelash. Make a wish.”
“I don’t believe in wishes,” she said, the words coming out before she could remember that this sort of Debbie-downer thinking wasn’t allowed in Crestler’s Key, with their forever smiles and happy demeanor.
But instead of Charlie correcting her or cracking a joke, he focused back on the eyelash, drew a slow breath and released it even slower, the eyelash blowing away. “Me neither, but maybe it’s time we start believing in them. Seems a shame not to believe in something.”
And Lila wasn’t sure why, but tears sprung to her eyes too fast for her to blink them away. She tried to swallow back the hurt climbing inside her, the fear that had rested over her heart, and thought about the way one encounter, one single encounter, could change her so completely. Because she used to believe in wishes and dreams, promises and futures. But life taught her the hard way that living in a dream world could land you on your face, your wrists and legs bound with rope, and no hope of surviving the night.
Lila fought against the memory, the goose bumps spreading across her skin despite the warmth inside the shop.
“Hey . . .” Charlie reached out to her, but she waved him off.
“Can I just . . .” She swiped a fallen tear away and walked out, leaving everyone staring after her. Oh, what a foolish woman she was! Breaking down after these people had been so nice to her, after Charlie had been so nice. But somehow, remembering what it felt like to dream and live, to not look over her shoulder, brought on a sadness so intense that she couldn’t push it away. Because that blissful naiveté she’d felt before may never exist for her again.
She closed the storefront’s door and shook out her hands. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Just calm down. Breathe,” she told herself, but that all-encompassing sadness had taken hold, and she feared that if she didn’t get out of there, and fast, they might never invite her back.
So, instead of risking them seeing her, she took off for her car, slipped inside, and started backing away, ignoring the calls from Charlie as he started up the hill to where they’d parked, his form growing smaller and smaller as she drove away.