18. Charlie

18

CHARLIE

G reen Day blasts through my headphones. Damn, Quentin has gotten so into my head that I’m even into his music now.

The lyrics to “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” slice straight to my heart, and tears sting the corner of my eyes.

“Nope.”

The woman in the seat next to me gives me a funny look, because yeah, I just said that out loud. But I will not cry any tears until this bus is on its way and I’m on the road away from here and away from whatever it was I thought I might have found with Quentin.

I wipe at my eyes and change the song. Slow guitar strings flood the headphones, and I skip that one too. I skip through ten songs before I find something that doesn’t remind me of Quentin. I must download some upbeat shit for situations like this.

The bus driver throws the last bag in the underneath storage and closes it up. He climbs into the cab, and the bus doors wheeze shut. We’ll be moving soon, and I can leave all this behind.

I’ll go back to Mom’s. Despite her faults, there’s always a bed at her place for me. I’ll get work at a diner and plan my next move. I’ve started again before; I can do it again now.

The thought of the Californian heat makes me tense. It’s not a climate suited for bike leathers and heavy boots. I don’t fit in there. I never have. I thought the mountains and Dad’s MC club might be more my scene. And up until a few hours ago, I was enjoying myself.

But I’m not hanging around to watch Quentin do the honorable thing. Either he’s too stupid to see what’s between us, or he really is too much up his own ass.

He’s a military man and they always put honor first, before anything or anyone else. I should have learned that from my father.

But I can’t help the feelings I’ve developed for Quentin. How could I?

Thoughts of him has tears threatening my eyes again, and I clench my fists until my fingernails bite into my palms.

I will not cry.

I turn the music up and turn away from the window. The woman next to me gives me a small smile and I hate the pity in her eyes, like she knows I’ve been rejected.

I close my eyes, and with the sounds of Pink blaring in my headphones, the bus rolls out of town.

I must doze off, because I awake with a start as the bus jolts over a pothole.

There are murmurings from the passengers, and the woman next to me cranes her neck to see past me and out of the window.

I turn my head to see what everyone’s looking at.

There’s a small truck riding alongside the bus. Not just any truck. The outside says Wild Taste Brewery and the crazy man hanging out the window, one hand on the steering wheel, is Quentin.

“What the…?”

He sees me, and his look turns to relief. His window is down and he’s saying something.

“Is he crazy?” the woman next to me says.

His head’s sticking out the window, and he’s keeping up with the bus. A car blasts its horn behind him trying to get past. “Yeah.”

“Charlie…” His voice is swept off in the wind, and I can’t hear the rest of his words.

“Is that you he’s talking to, love?” the woman asks.

Either I left something behind or he has something to say. “Yeah. It is.”

She looks excited. “You better open the window and see what he wants.”

I stand up and pull the window open. It only opens a crack, and cool night air blasts into the bus.

“Charlie, don’t go.” Quentin says.

If that’s all he’s got to say, then I’m not interested. There’s no point in staying if he’s never going to act on what’s between us. I scowl at him and shake my head. I’m not shouting out of the bus to tell him I’m not leaving.

“I’m an ass,” he says.

Which I don’t disagree with.

“I love you. And I want to be with you. Don’t go.”

The scowl lifts from my face, and my heart stutters.

“What did you say?” I call out the window because I have to hear it again.

“I love you.”

The woman next to me clasps her hands together. But it’s the last part I need to hear him say again.

“And I want to be with you.”

There it is. The promise that I need. I know he has feelings for me, but I have to know he’s going to act on them.

“Tell the driver to pull over,” he says. “You’ve got to get off the bus.”

“Pull over!” the woman next to me calls to the driver. I spin in my chair, and she gives me a wink.

“Pull over!” a balding man a few seats down calls down to the front of the bus.

The call goes down the bus until it reaches the driver. He turns in his seat and scowls at me. But I’m already marching down the aisle with my purse over my shoulder.

He pulls off the highway onto the side of the road, muttering about timetables and late service.

“You’ll need to get your own bag from below,” the driver says.

“No need,” I tell him. “I travel light.”

He opens the door, and I step out into the cool night.

Quentin has pulled up behind, and as he marches over, the desperate look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.

He grabs both my hands, and a zing of electricity travels up my body.

“Charlie, I’ve been an ass.”

I nod my head. “Can’t contradict you there.”

“I was trying to do the right thing, but the right thing is to be with you. I thought it was only lust I felt for you, and I tried to fight it. But it’s so much more than that.”

He kisses my hands, scraping stubble over my palms.

“I love you, Charlotte. I love the way you don’t take any nonsense; I love your confidence and your humor. I love the way you look without makeup, and that under your steel-capped boots you wear pink fluffy socks. Your music is… growing on me. I love your strength and independence, but most of all I love the way you make yourself vulnerable to me.

“I want to take care of you, Charlie. I want to be there for you, always. To be the person you can depend on who will never leave you. I love you, and I don’t care what we have to do to be together.”

There’s a collective sigh behind me, and I spin around to find the passengers pressed up against the windows watching us. My seatmate has a tissue pressed to her eyes, and even the bus driver is hanging on every word.

“What do you say?” There’s a wobble in his voice, and I turn back to face Quentin. “Is it too late to give this a chance?”

His eyes search mine, and there’s vulnerability in them too. Quentin’s spent so long playing the army sergeant, always strong and dependable, rallying the men at the MC and turning their brewery into an award-winning countrywide business, that he’s forgotten how to live for himself.

Maybe between the two of us we can find the middle ground.

My heart soars knowing this man wants me, not just physically but all of me. My brashness and independence and mood swings and spontaneity.

Maybe with him I can finally find a place to belong.

“It’s not too late. I love you too.”

His face lights up, and there’s a cheer from the bus behind me. The tears I wouldn’t let fall earlier trickle down my cheeks. But this time they’re happy tears.

Tears because I’ve never stuck around before. I’ve never made myself vulnerable, and it’s scary but also the best feeling in the world. Like I’m letting go of something.

Quentin wraps his arms around me and lifts me up into the air.

The bus passengers go crazy with whoops and cheers and clapping. I’m laughing as I turn around and signal to the bus driver.

“You can leave now. Thanks for waiting.”

He dabs at the corner of his eye. “Good luck.”

The doors whoosh shut behind me, and there’s a blast of warm air on my neck as the bus pulls away.

Then it’s just me and Quentin on the side of the highway.

His lips find mine, and this time when they crash into me there’s no restraint, no holding back, only a warm feeling of belonging.