All She Wanted (2) (18 page)

Briggs

I stopped touching her hair.

Her words were a rare form of
suffocation, like breathing through a wet washcloth.

“Charlie…you believe that?” I asked
,
my voice cracked with emotion.

“He never loved me, Briggs. And neither
did she. I offered myself to them both, gave them everything—was willing to be
anyone, do anything to make them happy. But in the end, they let me go.” Her
voice changed to a whisper, “Like I meant nothing to them at all.”

There were no tears, but every word she
said was marinated in a thick sadness, the kind that had taken years to flavor.

I gritted my teeth against the anger
that welled in me—particularly toward Alex. I wanted to hurt him—to hurt anyone
who had hurt Charlie. I couldn’t understand why or how someone could do that to
her, but I felt confident that no one ever would again.

Not if I had something to say about it.

“You are
not
nothing to me.”

She looked up at me. I reached for her
face, cupping her cheek as she relaxed into it. That one movement lit my veins
on fire.

“I’ve never told anyone that…before now.”

“And I’ve never wanted to kiss you more…than
I do right now.”
 

My words came out choppy, breathless,
but I couldn’t contain them anymore. She made no sound, but I could sense her
approval as she leaned toward me. With my right hand still firm on her face, I
pushed it back to grip the nape of her neck. My other hand was anchored on top
of the porch swing. I leaned in slowly, letting the heat from her breath guide
me. And the instant my lips brushed against hers, I was overcome with a feeling
I had never known.

Her lips were softer than I had imagined
them—sweeter, yet the seconds ticked by unbearably fast. I craved more, but I
wouldn’t take advantage of this moment, this rare vulnerability she had shown
me. I broke away, planting my lips firmly against her forehead instead. I let my
heart rate level out again before I spoke the words that rang in my head like
an anthem.

“
I
want you
, Charlie.”

Charlie

Disoriented, I flailed my arm onto my
nightstand, whacking my phone to the floor with a bang.

What day
is it? What time is it?

I reached for my phone; my alarm
playing some annoying country song that Briggs must have set last night.
Had it really only been six hours ago that
we had been sitting on the porch swing together?

I smiled then, remembering our kiss.

And what
a kiss it had been.

I bit my lip in silent appreciation. I
hadn’t expected anything like that to happen last night: Briggs leaving the
station early, the conversation about mama, the kiss—all of it seemed like a
distant dream.

But it hadn’t been a dream.

The kiss had been far too short, but
wonderfulness can happen in less than ten seconds—this I knew firsthand. He had
been so gentle, so tender,
so
kind. Just thinking
about it made the butterflies take flight in the base of my belly again.

And then I remembered something else.

The words.
His
words.

“I want you,
Charlie.”

We had sat in silence for several
minutes as I let his statement soak into my bones. There was so much I wanted
to say to him—yet the emotional toll of my day had left me utterly spent.
Briggs must have felt my exhaustion because without another word, he pulled me
to him, putting his arm around my shoulders while he rocked us both on the
swing.

Yes, there was more to be said, but
midnight on the day of my would-be-wedding, was probably not the best timing for
that conversation. It was simply enough to know that there was more, that
possibly
we
were more.

I climbed into the shower, the steam
and heat easing my tired muscles. I closed my eyes as I stood underneath the
hard stream hitting my shoulders, neck and scalp. I reached for my body wash. I
laughed as I squeezed the peach creamy-substance into my hand, remembering something
Briggs had said before I turned in for the night.

He had sighed deeply, leaving me to
believe that something profound would follow such a pensive act, but instead he
asked why I always smelled like peaches. I, of course, told him that it was my
natural scent, and that he shouldn’t be jealous that he wasn’t born with one. He
had laughed, even though it was a blatant lie on my part. The truth was, that
Briggs smelled like the log cabin my parents owned on Lake Owens. He smelled
like natural comfort.

In the early hours of the morning,
Briggs had talked a lot about Cody, what it had been like to watch Angie raise
him from a newborn in the home they had shared for the first few years of his
life. He told stories of him as a toddler and of the funny things he had said
as a child. But what struck me the most was the undercurrent of what he didn’t
say. There was no question how much Briggs loved the boy, but I sensed there
was something deeper than the typical bond shared between uncle and nephew. And
then I knew.

Cody represented hope.
 

My heart had tugged at that revelation.

We had both lived in homes where hope did
not exist, where love did not abound. I knew without asking that he wanted Cody
to have the life that he didn’t. I would want the same if he were my nephew.

Tori had invited Briggs and I out to
her parent’s house for Sunday brunch today—which in Texas, ultimately meant attending
a church service together first, but after Briggs was called into work Friday
night, I assumed the plans were off. Kai had assumed otherwise.

Kai texted late last night letting us
know we were both still welcome and that he hoped to see us in the morning. I
had to admit, it did sound fun, but going anywhere with Briggs sounded fun to
me. I wore my sleeveless, blue wrap dress, which tied at my hip and slipped on my
wedged heels. I left my hair down, letting the waves dry naturally as I applied
my makeup.

As I walked down the stairs I could
hear him in the house, smelling the brewed coffee.

“Hey there, good morning,” I said, as I
rounded the corner from the stairs into the hall.

His back was to me as he poured a cup
of coffee, glancing over his shoulder to smile at me. My stomach dropped.

That
smile should be illegal.

“Good morning to you, Shortcake. Ready
to go?”

 
“Yes, I’m ready.”

Briggs

Tuesday.
Tuesday. Tuesday.

My heart seemed to pulse the word over
and over on repeat, bringing a new round of torture as I counted the minutes. I
had to tell her soon. My every thought was one I wanted to say aloud, but more
than ever I wanted to do it right—for Charlie’s sake. If that meant waiting a
couple more days so I could talk to Chief, I would do that.

I could live for days on the memory of
that kiss alone.

As I watched her sip her coffee with
those same sweet lips I had felt against mine last night, I hoped they would be
the only lips I would ever kiss.

Did I
really just think that?

And yet I knew what the answer was
without a second thought. Imagining any other woman in my future made my heart
recoil. Charlie was my one in six billion.

On the other hand, picturing
her
with anyone else would make waterboarding
seem like a pleasant way to spend my eternity.
 

Just two more days.

I had pulled grown men from burning
buildings, rescued children from twisted metal prisons after car-accidents, and
defended Angie from her abuser. I could wait until Tuesday.

 
“So
since I finished up at the office last week, I’m gonna stay home tomorrow so I
can clean and grocery shop before my folks get back. They fly in late afternoon
I think, so I want everything to be ready for them.”

“Oh, okay…that’s a good plan,” I said,
thinking it would also give me one less day to screw up before I talked with Chief,
“I start on rotation again tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” she said.

We both took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” I added absently.

It was weird to think about not working
at the station with Charlie anymore, or going days at a time where I wouldn’t get
to see her, or nights that I wouldn’t get to watch her walk inside her house,
or mornings that I wouldn’t get to make her coffee.

The
new
normal we had created was coming to an end—correction, it already had. Tomorrow
would solidify that truth even more.

“So when do you think you’ll move back…to
your old place?” she asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I should probably do that later this
evening since I’ll be at the station till Wednesday night. Good thing I really
only have a couple of duffle bags to pack.”

She sat quietly, as if lost in a
thought land far away—maybe it was the same land I had just visited.

“Hey,” I said, reaching across the seat
for her hand. She looked over at me, “Nothing’s going to change but our
schedules, Charlie. We’re friends. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The word betrayed me as I spoke it, but
I couldn’t say more—not yet. She nodded and smiled at me briefly, but there was
something in her eyes that told me she wasn’t exactly satisfied by my
declaration.

I took another deep breath.

Tuesday.
Tuesday. Tuesday.

Charlie

Kai and Tori saved us seats at church,
and next to them were a row of people who seemed just as excited to see us, though
I had no idea who they were. Tori introduced them as her family members. Her
parents, her sister, her brother in-law and then the cutest baby girl I had
ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my gosh, she is adorable! Tori, is
this Kailynn—your flower girl?” I asked, letting the little princess grab my
finger and shake it over and over.

“Yes, isn’t she sweet?” Tori asked,
kissing her on the head as she held her.

“That doesn’t even begin to describe
her…wow. I will have to become best friends with your sister so I might get a
chance to get on the babysitting list,” I said.

Stacie laughed and reached around Tori
to touch my shoulder as she spoke.

“Charlie, you’re welcome to hang out with
Kailynn and I anytime…we usually start our day together around four a.m., so
believe me, when I say anytime, I really mean it,” Stacie said dramatically.

I laughed hard as Tori rolled her eyes.
I was gonna enjoy getting to know her family. It was hard to believe that in
just two weeks I would be with them all again on Tori’s big day.

We slipped into our seats. Briggs was
at the end of the row while I sat in between him and Tori. I looked down at our
aisle and my heart warmed.
Is this what
it feels like to have a big family
?

The band that played was awesome. I was
easily distracted by how in-sync they were, watching each other’s movements,
following and transitioning flawlessly to each new song. It was impressive. As
my emotions started to rise to the surface, a rogue thought forced its way in.

“But
there are other instruments, which were only ever meant to stand alone, to
solo. We, unfortunately, both fall into that latter category, Charlie. And two
solo instruments should never share the stage.”

I hated that statement.

I hated even more that I had memorized
it. That it haunted me the same way mama did—lurking in some dark corner of my
mind. I didn’t want to be a solo instrument for the rest of my life. I didn’t
want to be alone.

I wanted
this.

I looked down the aisle again at the
row of family and friends, and then to my right at Briggs.
How does Briggs see me? Like a shiny, solo instrument, or as one that
could compliment?

Our uncomfortable conversation in the truck
came back to my mind then as the congregation continued to sing. He was moving
out…tonight. I knew it was coming, obviously. But deep in my core was the
building of a feeling that I wasn’t going to be able to shake off anytime soon.
Yes, I wanted to let things progress naturally, I had made a commitment to
myself to never again force my hand in a relationship, but what if…what if
natural only turned out to be
friends
?

He had called us that just this
morning.

But he
had kissed me—told me that he wanted me just last night.

That lone argument quickly became too
weak to combat the doubts that started rolling in faster than I could push them
away. The over-thinking, over-analyzing female in me started to
question—everything. He had kissed me on what could have been my most
vulnerable moment to-date, on a very vulnerable night. What if it wasn’t meant
to be romantic at all? What if the real reason he didn’t say more last night
after our kiss was because he didn’t have anything more to say?

Maybe he was only trying to comfort me,
show me compassion after I had just revealed the ugly truth about my mama and
Alex.

Another thought hit me then, plunging
my new conclusions ever deeper into the well of assumption.

I could not recall even one time when
Briggs had complimented my appearance. Other than his abrasive comments about
my leggings, I had no memory to prove he was even remotely attracted to me. He
had never used words like beautiful or pretty with me—he hadn’t even said the
one that I considered to be the most pitiful of them all:
Cute
.

There was nothing to recall—that cold
revelation was like a slap to the face.

He didn’t see me that way. He didn’t
see me the way I saw him.

Oh gosh.
I’ve been such an idiot.

The surge of insecurity pumping through
my body had raised my sensitivity meter to an all-time high.
How could I have thought there was something
more between us? I hadn’t been paying attention…I had only been thinking of my
feelings for him—not the other way around.

I jumped at the sound of Brigg’s voice
in my ear. “You alright?”

I nodded absently, smiling. He did not
look convinced, but re-directed his focus once again to the front. I did the
same.