But as I teach Rhys the wonders of grilling and we enjoy a traditional Fourth of July barbeque with Gram, everything is moving in fast-forward. The day is speeding toward midnight, and no matter how loud I scream for it—beg for it—to slow, I feel each second bang against my heart.
The clock…
It keeps ticking.
And my heart…
I feel the first crack as it begins to break.
Chapter Nineteen
I’ve always loved summer.
A July baby, I was destined to love slow, sun-kissed days that bleed into humid nights. Hazy golden dawns and flaming sunsets over the Appalachians make a person feel as if they can reach up and scrape their fingertips along the edge of Heaven itself. As if, when I close my eyes and listen real hard, I’ll hear the voices of the angels whispering in the warm breezes that blow down from those majestic mountains.
As a kid, I’d come to St. Crowe Lake and sit for hours, pretending my parents were alive and daydreaming about tomorrows that looked nothing like the way my life actually turned out. On my birthdays, I’d stare at the night sky and wishupon every star to ease the loneliness and stop the hurt, but the universe never granted me my request.
Until I swiped right on an app that brought Rhys Ravenstone knocking on my door.
While most people are gathered in Town Square, I have the best seat in Harley Cove. Nestled between Rhys’s legs, I’m wrapped in his arms on the bank of St. Crowe Lake. The upbeat thrum of “Cupid” by Sam Cooke (ha, ha, funny, you evil cherub) drifts out from the Spotify app on my phone. Gram is asleep, leaving us to watch the fireworks alone in our private little corner of the world. He’s playing with my hair, gently tugging random curls just to watch them spring back into shape.
This afternoon feels like a lifetime ago.
“Your hair is so soft, like silken threads.”
Instinctively, I go to smooth the riotous curls, but he blocks me. “I’ve always hated it. I wanted straight hair.”
“Blasphemy!” he teases. “Your curls are pretty. Don’t ever change them.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
Rhys kisses my hair. “That’s my good girl.”
I exhale on a suddenly sad sigh, with time finite, sliding past us like the strands of my hair through Rhys’s fingers. Locked on a single bright star, I’m like a little girl all over again. I wish. I wish, wish, and wish for something I have no business requesting because I’m asking for the impossible. For something I don’t dare say aloud.
Something impossible.
It’s not that I can’t love Rhys Ravenstone.
I’mafraidto love him.
Oh, God, I’m so afraid.
This is reality. People rarely get their happily ever after. If one were even possible for me, I wouldn’t have time ticking like a hammer against my skull. A brutal reminder that Rhys and I have only three hours left.
“Where are you, Charlotte?”
“Huh?” I semi-twist in Rhys’s arms to meet his searching eyes over my shoulder. “Here, with you?” I tell him with a little laugh. “Where does it look like I am?”
“Your body’s here, but your mind went somewhere else.”
I turn back around and hunker in closer to him, relishing his heat against my back. “All of me is here, baby. Promise.”
Baby? And it’s not the first time I’ve called him this.
Who even am I right now?
“Don’t drift away from me, Charlotte.” Rhys’s lips brush my neck, giving me chills, when he whispers, “Or you’ll force me to find creative ways to keep you right here where I need you.”
