He laughs, and it’s deeper than I remember. “Thanks.” He presses his lips together again as if he’s afraid of what will come out.
My eyes are drawn to his mouth, but I don’t linger like I want. This is his work. I catch his gaze. “No need to censure yourself, Charlie. I could listen to you talk all day.”
He snorts. “That’s not what you told me during wrestling practice. ‘Charlie, can you stop talking for five minutes?’ I think were your exact words.”
The bubbly feelings in my stomach pop. What am I doing? This guy used to be my student. “Things change. You’re not fourteen—” I stop before I make things more awkward and clear my throat. “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hi and welcome home.”
When I get to my truck, I bang my head against the steering wheel. What the hell? This is Chuck and Minni’s kid. And I’m twenty years older than him.
Should I quit the project? But I can’t. This is something near and dear to my heart. My sister Harper was without housing for a while. Of course, she didn’t ask us for help. Too proud. This project will help people like her keep their dignity. I can’t quit because I’m attracted to the guy in charge.
The talk with Charlie hadn’t been too embarrassing. I scroll through the text messages, imagining Charlie, not my best friend, reading them.
Fuck.Each text is worse than the last.
I’d drop to my knees for this guy.
Does he realize I was talking about him?
Would he let me?
My body reacts favorably to that thought, and I tell it to fuck off.
This is Chuck and Minni’s son. I taught him how to wrestle at fourteen and drive a car at fifteen. I feel like a dirty old man.
I swallow the bile in my throat and shake my head. I’m not attracted to the kid I once knew. I’m attracted to the man he is now. Sometimes confident. Sometimes shy. And sexy as fuck.
But others won’t see it that way. His parents certainly won’t.
And neither will the town.
3
CHARLIE
I would have beratedmyself for a lot longer for that brilliant crash and burn, but I still had to help Raja break down the room.
“That was interesting,” they said, stacking chairs together. “But you did well, Chas.”
“Thank you.” I grab a few discarded handouts from the floor, twisting them in my hand as I wait.
They have more to say. It’s in the set of their shoulders. Their careful words.
“If I remember correctly, you were living in Kansas City and just moved here.”
“Yes.” I press my lips together to keep from saying more. But the hope that they won’t put it all together is fading fast.
“And you arrived today?”
“I meant to get here earlier, but things happened.” I wave a hand around. “So, yes. Today.” I stare at a stray handout that tried to escape through the back door. There’s a footprint in the middle. Sorry, little guy. You almost made it to freedom.
“But you somehow know Coach Rathborn?” Raja asks.
My head jerks around. They know Coach Rathborn? Raja isn’t from the area originally. They mentioned during one of ourprep meetings that they moved to Dunklin County a few years ago to be closer to their sister.
They must read the question on my face. “My nephew was on the wrestling team last year. Now it’s your turn.” When I don’t respond because I’m not sure what to say at this point—they’ve shared so much and I’ve shared nothing—they clear their throat. “Chas.”
I sigh, finally meeting their gaze. “Coach Rathborn—Brad—is my father’s best friend.”
