I took the skewer of cherries and wrapped my lips around them, popping each one off in slow succession. Sweet syrup clung to my fingers, the taste bright and sticky as I caught the last trace with my tongue.
Charlie leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with a look I couldn’t read.
“So,” he said finally. “Kale?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Kale. Quinoa. Micronutrients. Apparently, I’m not taking care of myself or my baby, according to Doyle’s expert opinion.”
“Ah.”
“And when I said I didn’t want to eat it, he told me I was taking up space and expecting the world to bend around my preferences.” I stabbed another fry into the corner of the bag, hunting for rogue salt. “He invited me here, Charlie. He told me to come. And now I’m some kind of burden he’s stuck with.”
Charlie didn’t say anything right away. He only listened intently, letting me get it all out.
“I told him he’s just like our mom,” I admitted, quieter now. “Cold and righteous and impossible to please. And he didn’t even deny it.”
“That probably hit him hard,” Charlie said carefully.
“Good.” I popped another fry into my mouth. The mix of salt and grenadine was sinful enough to pull a quiet moan from my throat. “Maybe he needs to hear it.”
A knock came at the door, and Charlie pushed off the counter to grab the takeout. He came back with a Treylor Park bag, setting it between us and pulling out fried chicken sliders, extrapickles, and a side of mac and cheese that looked obscene in the best way.
“Here,” he said, sliding the sliders toward me. “Real food.”
I stared at the bag. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
The first bite hit me square in the soul. I closed my eyes, savoring the warm, vinegary crunch, and when I opened them again, Charlie was watching me with something that looked almost like amusement.
“This doesn’t mean we’re friends,” I said, mouth full.
“God, no,” he deadpanned.
I snorted despite myself, licking hot sauce off my thumb. “Why are you always so nice to me? Even when I’m a mess?”
Charlie leaned forward, forearms bracing against the bar. “Maybe because I get it.”
“Get what?”
“What it’s like to love someone who doesn’t know how to let you in.” He paused, gaze dropping to the sliders. “My sister’s getting married to Dane Wilder. Lee’s brother.”
I blinked. “Yeah, I’d heard rumors. That’s... complicated.”
“She thinks it’s the only way to save this place,” he said, gesturing around the bar. “That if she marries him, he’ll sign over his part of the family trust and O’Malley’s stays in our family. She really believes it’s her only option.”
“And you’re just... letting her?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m notlettingher do anything. She’s a grown woman. She makes her own calls.” He looked at me then, eyes steady. “But I’m standing by, ready for whatever she needs, whenever she needs it. That doesn’t mean I don’t tell her how I feel. And sometimes she hates hearing it.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He inched closer, gaze sweeping my face. “Because when you’re stuck in the middle of one of life’s messes, it’s hard to seestraight. And sometimes the people who sound the most critical are the ones trying hardest to look out for you. Even if they don’t always get it right.”
I set down the slider, suddenly not hungry anymore. “So you’re saying Doyle’s being an ass because he cares?”
“I’m saying he’s scared,” Charlie said. “And fear makes people do shitty things. Doesn’t make it okay. But it might explain why he’s holding on so tight.”
I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the bar, grease still slick on my skin. “I came here thinking we’d fall back into a rhythm. That we’d be siblings again. But he’s keeping me at arm’s length, like he’s embarrassed to be seen with me.”
