“I told you I would.”
A promise.
He threw himself at me. Ghostly arms wrapped around my middle, head tucked just under mine. Stunned, it took a few seconds before I realized what was happening, and then I gripped him tightly in return.
He was so cold, but his torso solidified in my arms until he felt real again, and I smelled the faintest hint of sun-warmed cotton sheets.
“I can’t believe you came back,” he repeated, voice thick with tears. “What a stupid,stupidthing to do.”
I chuckled, but held him close. “I’m sorry it took a few days. I got held up.”
The longer we clung to each other, the more solid he became, until I swore I could feel the barest hint of warmth radiating from him.
“I remember,” he whispered into my damp shirt. “Not all of it, but enough. You really shouldn’t have come back.”
I pulled him closer, as if I held on tight enough, he wouldn’t disappear again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
With one last squeeze around my middle, he stepped back and wiped his cheeks. “No. Not right now. I want to be here right now. I don’t want to go away again so soon, if I can’t—if it’s hard to talk about. Later, though?”
He looked up at me, his brown eyes warm and soft and no longer gray. Fuck, he was beautiful with a bit of pink back in his cheeks and tears clinging to his long lashes.
Was it weird to think someone was a pretty crier?
“Sure. Later. Whenever you’re ready.” I cleared my throat, ignoring the confusing way my stomach swooped when he slowly blinked up at me, all vulnerable and needy. “Um, happy birthday!” I said, gesturing to the twinkle lights. “They’re for you. So you’re not stuck in the dark anymore.”
He peered up and slowly spun around to take them in, something like awe on his face. His brown eyes glowed amber in the warm light. “You got me… lights.”
I crossed my arms and uncrossed them, suddenly nervous. “They’re solar powered, so they won’t go out. You can turn them off if you want.”
Charlie surveyed the messy disaster sprawled all over the small counter from my dinner preparation. I palmed the back of my neck. “Uh,yeah. Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean up after. We should eat while it’s warm, though. If you want.”
He turned toward me again, eyes glassy. “You roasted a chicken for me?”
“Spatchcockedand roasted.”
His eyes danced. “You’ve gotta stop saying that.”
I nudged him forward, crowding him toward the stove. “Go on and fix your plate before I spatchcock you.”
He grinned over his shoulder. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
I rolled my eyes. His responding laughter was bright and clear and warm against the sleet pelting the windows, anddespite the danger lurking outside, I felt more at peace in this lookout than I’d ever been.
Or maybe it had more to do with the man who lived there.
“Favorite color?” I asked, spooning up what was left of the ice cream from my bowl.
“Bwue,”Charlie replied through a mouthful of cobbler before swallowing. “Song?”
“Impossible, I couldn’t pick just one.”
He narrowed his eyes and knocked his foot against mine. We sat side by side on the bed, leaning back against the wall. “It doesn’t work like that. You have to answer.”
“Fine. TheBraveheartsoundtrack.”
“Is that a movie?Braveheart?”
My mouth dropped open. “Holy fuck, you haven’t seenBraveheart.”
