Page 57 of From the Ashes
“You saw him a few days ago.”
“Yeah. And the moment he saw me he had a panic attack. The dude isterrifiedof me.” I raked my fingers through my hair, leaning back until I was staring up at the ceiling. “He thinks I’ll hate him because he’s still messed up from all the trauma he went through.”
“Maybe he just needs a little love.”
“I don’t want to ambush the poor man.”
“I’m not saying that you should run back to Creekside and tackle him. I’m just saying that maybe you should keep working on that letter. And maybe, instead of trying to act aloof and like you don’t need anyone, let him know that you needhim.” He smiled, getting up from his seat. “We’ve all got baggage, Phie. But the load is easier to carry when you have someone on your side and from the sounds of it, Charlie doesn’t have anyone on his side.”
“Are you suggesting that love is going to cure all his anxiety?”
“No,” he said simply. “But it might help.”
He turned away from me with a grin, heading to the bedroom at the back of the bus. I sat there for a long while, just staring at the half-written letter in my notebook. Eventually I tore it out, threw it across the room, and brought my pen back to a fresh page once more.
Maybe Tony was onto something. And besides, I knew I couldn’t keep up this charade forever. Charlie deserved to know the truth of my feelings for him. So, instead of forcing myself to write like we were just friends, I decided to write to him as if we were eighteen again with all the closeness that entailed. I wanted to pick up right where we’d left off and stop pretending like I didn’t care for him.
And so, I began to write.
CHAPTER 25
Charlie
The early June sun beat down on me, hot and oppressive as I walked to the mailbox at the end of the driveway, checking it for letters. I swore I’d heard a truck go by and I naturally assumed it was the mail. But, as the hot metal box creaked open, I saw it was empty. Whether the truck was real or imaginary, it hadnotdelivered another letter from Phoenix.
“Hey Charlie!” a voice called out.
I looked up to see Patrick getting out of his truck and heading my way. Apparently, it washistruck and the trailer behind it that I’d heard. I’d completely forgotten it was a lawn mowing day.
“Hi Patrick,” I replied, meeting him halfway. I could see he was already sweaty and bits of dead grass clung to his oversized biceps. Even from a couple feet away I could smell the mower grease and fresh cut grass on him. “How are things?”
“Pretty good,” he smiled, as warmly as ever. “I had a light day, so I figured I’d come out and get started on your lawn a bitearly.” He glanced up at the sky, shading his eyes with his hand. “Sure could use a few clouds right about now, though.”
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked, pointing back toward the house. “I’ve got fresh lemonade.”
“Sure,” he grinned. “Tyler thinks it’s gross, but I love that instant stuff.”
“Hopefully you like the real stuff too.”
“You made it?”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “I know how to squeeze a lemon, Patrick. I might be a mess, but I can do acoupleof basic tasks.”
“My bad,” he laughed. “I’m sure you’re very capable.”
“Come on in. I’ll get you a glass.”
It took a moment for his footsteps to follow after me, but I figured he just got distracted by the grass. Leading him inside to the kitchen, I pulled a glass down out of the cupboard, filled it with ice, and pulled out the pitcher from the fridge. Filling his glass, I handed it over.
“Hopefully you like it a little tart. I’m not big on super sweet lemonade.”
He took the glass, but instead of taking a drink, he just stared at me.
“What?” I looked at the glass, inspecting it. “Is the glass dirty? Is there a bug in it?”
Patrick shook his head. “You’ve never invited me inside before. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve seen you inviteanyoneinside before.”
“Oh.”