“I’m not a very good person, Alice. I’ve made more mistakes than most.” He takes a deep breath, then says quietly, “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever done anything good in my entire life.”
“Thisis good,” I say. “The way you’ve helped Nan and me is good.” I want to tell him thathe’s good, but I’m not sure words would be enough to make him believe. So I link my arm in his. “Come on, Sad Boy. Take me up to your tree house.”
“The view,” I say. “It’s spectacular. It’s almost like we’re on the water.”
There’s a slash of bright red running on a diagonal across the sky, disappearing behind the hill of the far shore, but otherwise the night is indigo and growing darker by the second.
“Almost as good as the view from your boathouse,” Charlie says behind me. He’s leaning against the door to the tree house. It’s a squat, round-topped entrance, like it leads to an enchanted hideaway.
Everything about this moment is spellbinding. The pine-kissed air. The distant call of a loon. Floating high in the trees with Charlie. I look back to the lake. There’s a bonfire on the beach near John’s cottage. Laughter rolls across the bay. A fish jumps closer to shore.
“No, this is better. It feels like we’re somewhere magical,” I say.
“It does.”
I turn at the tenderness in Charlie’s voice. I take a step closer, and every muscle in his body seems to tense. I find his hand clenched at his side and raise it between mine. He doesn’t breathe as I stare up at him and uncurl his fingers, lacing them with my own. When I bring his knuckles to my lips, a low hum vibrates in his chest. I desperately want to know all his sounds.
“Take me inside?”
His eyes sweep across my face. “Are you sure?”
“About seeing your tree house?”
“Aboutthis.” He steps into my body, and I’m forced to tip my head to look at him. His fingers skate down my arm, from shoulder to wrist, and goose bumps rise in their wake.
“Are you?”
“No.” His gaze darkens as his fingers continue trailing along my arm. “Even though I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I could make you scream my name.”
His admission lands straight between my legs. “What’s holding you back?”
Charlie cups my chin in his hand, and stares at me, his gaze stormy. “I was hoping you would.”
I shake my head slowly. “I have another idea.”
Charlie’s thumb traces my jaw. “That sounds risky.”
“Maybe it is.”
Charlie lowers his head to mine. My heart thrashes as his lips graze the corner of my mouth. But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he whispers “I knew you’d be trouble” against my ear.
I shut my eyes before pulling away. “Take me inside,” I say again.
This time Charlie opens the door.
I duck to pass into the space, but inside the ceiling is high enough for even Charlie to stand. I turn around in a circle. It’s a small square room with two single-pane windows looking onto the lake and another out to the bush. It has that amazing fresh lumber smell. There’s not much in the way of furnishings—just a bamboo-framed couch and a low table beside it. I hear the flick of a lighter and turn to see Charlie ignite an old-fashioned oil lantern. It makes the whole room glow. There are two rolled-up sleeping bags in the corner.
“Were you expecting me?” I say, gesturing to them.
He shakes his head slowly. “You are the last thing I expected,” he says.
I stare at the lamplight blazing in his eyes. Has my heart ever beat this fast?
“I bought the sleeping bags so you and Bennett could camp out here,” Charlie continues. “There’s a blow-up mattress kicking around the basement of the house, and if you position it under the window, you’d be able to see the stars.”
It’s as if there are a hundred tiny fireworks exploding in my chest. I walk toward him until there’s only a breath of space separating us.
“I never thought I’d be happy that my sister canceled, but I’d rather sleep under the stars with you. I like you. I like being with you.” Every inch of my body feels like it’s on fire. Each cell is alive. I can feel my pulse in my lips, my neck, my wrists. “And you like me.”
