“Do you want to come?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “I think we’ll probably just watch a movie.”
We’ve made no such plans.
My grandmother surveys me with amusement. “I think I’ll stay put.”
A little after eight, I buckle my sandals, fingers shaking.
“Alice?” my grandmother calls before I step outside.
I pause with my hand on the doorknob.
She’s sitting in her chair with a book. Her eyes stay fixed on the page as she speaks. “It gets awfully dark at night.” A hint of a smile crosses her lips. “If you want to stay there instead of walking back, I’d understand.” She doesn’t lift her gaze to see me blush.
I wish her good night and step into the evening. The light is dim in the woods that grow around the driveway. It’s slightly brighter when I get to the road. The air is sweet and warm, the sky painted in lavenders and blues. A walk through the bush on a stunning summer night should be relaxing, but I’m not sure I breathe the entire ten minutes. I’m going because my pulse hasn’tsettled since Charlie whispered in my ear earlier today. I’m going because I can’t stay away.
The lights are on inside, their warm glow beckoning me closer. Charlie passes by the living room window wearing his gray lounge pants and a T-shirt. I’m in shorts and a sweatshirt. I didn’t dress for seduction. I dressed to climb a tree.
With each step I take, my pulse becomes more urgent. I step onto the porch and put a hand over my chest to calm it down. I see Charlie again. He’s sitting in the dining room, his forearm resting on the table. There’s a cuff around his bicep attached to a small monitor. I take a step back, but not before Charlie lifts his head. I feel like I’m witnessing something he didn’t want me to. We stare at each other.
“I’m sorry,” I say, loud enough for him to hear me through the glass. “I’ll just…” I turn to leave. I’ve just stepped onto the gravel driveway when I hear the door open behind me.
“Alice. Stop.”
I turn around, wincing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Charlie walks across the porch, not stopping until he’s right in front of me. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not a big deal. I’m supposed to monitor my blood pressure,” he says. “It’s been a little higher than it should be.” His tone is casual, but his expression is anything but.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
He stares down at me for an almost uncomfortable length of time, lips pressed together. “Why are you here?”
Without the buzz of wine or the toasty haze of an edible, it’s hard asking for what I want. But I’ve come this far. “I want to see your tree house.”
Charlie stares into the forest. When his eyes return to mine, conflict swirls in the shades of green and gilt. He’s going to turnme away. I lift my head, set my hands on my hips, and pull my shoulders back, bracing myself for rejection.
“You look like you’re about to fight me,” he says.
I narrow my eyes, and he lets out an exaggerated sigh and then tips his head toward the water. “Come on, Rocky.”
I follow Charlie down the hill to the edge of the bush, where we stand side by side, staring at the most stunning tree house I’ve ever seen. It’s built over two levels. The first ladder leads to a round platform around the trunk, and a second connects it to an upper deck and the tree house itself. It has a door and screened windows and a cedar-shingled roof. Charlie folds his arms over his chest, grinning at my slack-jawed expression.
“So,” he says, nudging me with his hip. “What do you think?”
I blink up at him. “Whoa.”
His smile lures his dimples. “I can’t take all the credit. Harrison helped me design it, and he’s done the trickier parts.” Charlie points to a little break in the bush at the base of the tree. “There’s a path that leads to the cottage next door, the one that used to be Percy’s. She and Sam would go back and forth between our house and her place all summer long. I love the idea that their kid will play here, in the spot where they became friends.”
I smile into the woods, but when I glance at Charlie, he looks melancholy.
“You’re a good brother.”
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
“And a romantic,” I add, ignoring his comment.
He raises two skeptical brows. “No one who knows me would ever say that.”
“Maybe they don’t really know you, then.”
