“Okie dokie,” she said, giving me one last peck before putting on her seatbelt.
“My Pop Tart, sir.” I handed her one and took one for myself. She got the car started with some effort. The thing was so loud, I was worried we were going to get pulled over for excessive noise violation.
She turned on the radio, changing from the classic rock station I assumed Will had it set on.
“This doesn’t feel like an Eagles and Def Leppard kind of day. Not that I wouldn’t rock out to that. I do. Frequently.”
“Listen to whatever you want.”
“Hmm,” she said, flipping through the stations. “Oh, I wish there were some way I could listen to some really sweet banjo tunes. Alas, I can’t find a banjo-playing station. Whatever shall I do?” she said in a fake-Southern accent.
“Look at that,” I said, playing along. “I have found a banjo.” I held it up and she cheered.
“You must play it.”
“Your wish is my command, pretty girl.”
I picked out a few tunes and she sang along, making up her own words while she finished her Pop Tart. I’d brought a few extras, just in case she wanted more.
We had a long drive on the highway, and at every exit sign, she asked me if she was supposed to turn.
“Not yet,” I’d say and she would glare at me.
I started trying to play other tunes, some with success, some without.
“I like that one, what is it?” she said.
“Woody Guthrie.”
“Does it have words?”
“Yes, but I can’t sing, so it would probably make him turn over in his grave.”
“I find that hard to believe. Give it a shot.”
For her, I would.
I started ‘So Long, It’s Been Good to Know You’ and struggled a bit with playing and singing at the same time. It was a simple song, but as I told her, I wasn’t much of a singer.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Alexander? You’ve got an amazing voice. It reminds me of Bob Dylan, and a lot of people said he couldn’t sing either.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“It’s a sad song, even though it sounds like it should be happy.”
“It’s about the dust bowl. A lot of his songs are.”
We passed another sign marking an upcoming exit.
“Should I turn here?”
“Not yet.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Lottie
We drove and drove, and I got more and more impatient. Also, I had to pee.
Finally, when I asked if we should turn, he said yes.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Right off the exit there was a fast food place, so I used the bathroom and ordered a couple of egg and cheese sandwiches and more tea.
“I thought you got lost,” Zan said when I handed him the cups and the bag as I climbed back into the truck.
“No, just had to get some sustenance. A girl can’t live on kissing and Pop Tarts alone.”
“Definitely not.”
He handed me my sandwich and I pulled out.
“Turn left,” he said.
So I did.
***
We drove and drove, getting further and further away from the highway, and closer to the lakes region. I had tried to come up with every possibility, and nothing jumped out at me.
“You’re not taking me to your fortress of solitude, are you?”
“I’m not a superhero. Although, there are times when I wished I had a fortress of solitude. Or a way to turn back time.”
“You’re not the only one.” We’d both go back and change the same thing. I decided to change the subject.
“I’m sorry our night got ruined. It took forever to get that makeup off.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either,” I said. He stared down at the banjo. “I’m not the only one who blames themselves for things.”
“Charlotte –” he started to say.
“No, let me get this out. You wouldn’t have been driving if Zack hadn’t forced you take the keys. You did it to try and protect Lexie and Zack. I know that, because I know you.”
Two years. Two effing years.
“I’m so sorry.” My voice broke and I knew I was going to cry. “I’m so sorry for being such a bitch to you.”
“You had every right to be, Charlotte.”
I shook my head and wiped at my eyes. The road blurred in front of me, and I pulled into a random driveway.
“Look at me,” he said, putting his hand under my chin. “You have every right to want me to burn in hell. God knows I wish I could.”
“Don’t say that,” I said, turning in my seat. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
His dark eyes were fierce, but there was a ripple of sadness there.
“I wish I could believe that,” he whispered.
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you don’t know everything. You need to know everything before you decide. You deserve to know.”
He dropped his hand from my face and I wanted to reach for him, to pull him to me, to crush myself into his chest. To try and take away some of that unbearable sadness.
He moved back to his seat and put the banjo back on his lap, plucking a few of the strings. I wiped away the rest of my tears and put the car in reverse just as someone from the house glared out the window at me.
***
“Turn left here.”
We’d driven onto more and more rural roads, until we pulled onto a one-lane dirt road with a mailbox at the end of it.
We’d been mostly silent since my little confession.
“Now if I watched more horror movies, this would be the part when you tied me up, and took me into the basement of your creepy cabin where you held me hostage for weeks as revenge on your mother for not hugging you,” I said as we bounced along the pot-holed driveway.
“Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that brain of yours.”
“Dude, you have no idea.” We rounded a corner and smack dab in front of us was a log cabin. “See? I wasn’t far off.”
The cabin was gorgeous, with a huge porch that wrapped around the entire first floor, a green metal roof and a chimney at each end.
“This is Steve’s cabin. My stepfather,” he said. “He bought it as a wedding present when he married my mom.”
“Jesus. Must have been hell to wrap.” I thought he’d laugh, but he didn’t. “So, are we going to go in?”
He nodded, and I could feel his reluctance.
“Whatever you’re going to tell me, I think I can handle it,” I said, giving him my most confident smile.
We both got out and he led me up the steps before moving a flowerpot right by the door and pulling out a key.
“Seems like a really obvious place to hide a key,” I said. Shut up, Lottie.
He opened the door without a word and held it for me.
“Are you ready?”
I took a breath and nodded. I could take it.
The cabin was big and bright and open, and had more than a few animal heads on the wall, which skeeved me out, but I chose to ignore them.
“Wow.”
The dining room even had a chandelier made of antlers.
“It’s Hunter Chic,” I said, noting the tasteful plaid couch and chairs and high volume of things with moose on them.
The best part was a huge stone fireplace that took up one entire wall.
“Could we start a fire?” It wasn’t that cold out, but you couldn’t come to a place like this and not make a fire.
“If you want to. I’ll have to go get some wood.” The wood box next to the enormous fireplace was empty.
“Will you have to chop it?” Chopping wood was sexy. Visions of shirtless Zan chopping wood while I watched flitted through my head.
“Steve orders it pre-chopped.”
“Damn,” I said under my breath.
He went to the fireplace and started fiddling with the chimney. “Why, did you want me to chop some?”
“No,” I said. “Well, maybe.”
That finally made him crack a tiny smile. Progress.
“Be right back.”
I inspected the rest of the downstairs while he brought in a few armfuls of wood. I felt like a slacker, making him do it, but something told me he didn’t mind.
There were only a few canned goods in the pantry, but I did find some tea and honey.
“Jackpot!” I also found a bag of marshmallows that wasn’t expired, and I definitely had half a bar of chocolate in my purse. I searched the rest of the cabinets, but couldn’t find any graham crackers.
“Look what I found,” I said, holding up the bag of marshmallows.
“I have no idea where those came from. Steve’s diabetic, so we don’t keep a lot of that stuff around.”
“You know, if you would have warned me this is where we were coming, I would have brought provisions. Although, foraging in a strange house is kind of fun.”
He remained quiet and sullen as he got the fire going.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” His voice startled me. I’d been staring at one of the deer heads, trying to see if its eyes were following me like one of those paintings.
“What is?”
“That I’m building a fire.”
“What? Oh.”
Bonfire.
I got off the couch and crouched next to him on the hearth. He braced himself on the mantle and stared into the fire.
“Hey,” I said, tugging on his sleeve. “You’re far away.”
“Sorry.” He sat down next to me. “I don’t know where to start, Charlotte.”
“We don’t have to start right now. How about we have some tea?”
He nodded and I got to work, boiling the water in a kettle with a cheery moose painted on the side.
“Who has the moose obsession?”
“That would be my mother, but I blame Steve. She used to shop at garage sales and not really care about what she looked like, and then she met him and she started wearing Chanel and buying matching furniture. She got really into decorating this place.”
“It’s…” I said, searching for the right word. “Quaint. And moosey.”
“I think that was what she was going for.”
I brought the tea over and we both sat on the hearth as the fire got going. I took off my coat and Zan did the same, his shirt riding up a little and revealing a tiny bit of his stomach.
I should not be thinking about that right now.
“I wish I had your confidence with words,” he finally said.
“I wish I had your restraint, so there you go.”
He set his cup down and gazed at me.
“If you want, we could make out a little,” I suggested.
He shook his head, smiling. Ha. I knew it was hiding in there somewhere.
“As much as I would like to do that, I don’t think it would help.”
I brought my knees up and rested my chin on them.
He took a deep breath and made sure I was looking directly at him before he spoke.
“I love you.”
My mouth dropped open.
“That’s not what I need to tell you. Well, it is, but that’s not the biggest part. I just thought you should know. I’ve loved you for a really long time, but I need you to know.” He reached for me and I let him gather me into his arms.