Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

I am also seeing glimmers of my old self. The man who wasn’t afraid. Who had character and conviction and a fucking wicked way with bacon fat.

He pops up more and more as the months pass. By Gracie’s birthday at the end of February, I’m laughing again. The loss of The Jam still stings. I struggle not to fall into a black pit of depression whenever I think about it. But time is helping. I wake up every morning a little steadier on my feet. A little more confident. I feel my wounds healing.

Every wound except the one Olivia left.

That goddamn thing smarts and bleeds and hurts nonstop.

“So are you gonna call her or what?” Grace asks one morning when she brings a pound of her latest Ethiopian blend to my house.

I don’t look up from the pot of grits I’m working on. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” Grace says, putting her first finger on the bridge of her very loud glasses and pushing them up on her nose. She sits down on a stool at the island. “We’re proud of you for taking the time—”

“We?” This time I do look up.

My sister blushes. I notice her eyes look…happier. Lit up.

“Yeah. Luke and I.”

“I didn’t know there was a ‘Luke and you.’”

“There isn’t. We’re just—um. Friends. Good friends.” She clears her throat. “Anyway. Like I was saying—we’re proud of you for taking the time to work on your own stuff. But it’s been months, E. You’re clearly still torn up about Olivia. We—”

“You and Luke?” I tease, cocking a brow.

“Jesus, would you let that go? Yes, Luke and I think you’ve done the work on your own, and now you’re ready to be with her for the right reasons. I mean, come on, E. You were just telling me the other day how you’re drinking less, and sleeping more, and really coming to terms with everything that’s happened over the past six months. Just the fact that you’re talking about that stuff tells me you’ve changed.”

I give the grits a stir, then set a lid on the pot. “That may be true. But the ball is in Olivia’s court. I pushed her way too hard. She wasn’t ready for what I wanted, and she balked. Understandably. I can’t push her again. She’s got to be the one who comes to me because she’s ready. Not the other way around.”

Grace furrows her brow. “I get that. And I like how cautious you’re being. It’s definitely important to take her feelings into consideration. But what if she’s waiting for you to reach out? Like you said, you were the one who pushed her away. I know you’re the romance novel expert these days. But doesn’t that make the groveling your responsibility in this scenario?”

I tug a hand through my hair, groaning.

“Yes and no,” I say. “I just—my gut’s tellin’ me to go gently. I do miss Olivia. And I do want to be with her. Which means my grovel’s got to be perfectly timed and perfectly executed. I gotta hit it outta the goddamn park, Gracie. The timing’s gotta be just right. Only when she’s ready.”

She purses her lips and nods. “All right. That’s fair. But how’re you gonna know she’s ready if you don’t talk to her?”

That’s the million dollar question. I’ve heard from friends that they’ve seen Olivia around town. Which means she did give her ex his ring back. Just like she said she would.

Christ, I’m a piece of shit. A faithless, stupid piece of shit.

Apparently she’s teaching creative writing at the college. Some small, mean part of me wanted to stalk her usual haunts so I could “accidentally” run into her. But that’s wrong. I’ve never played games like that, and I don’t plan to start now. So I’ve just stuck to my usual routine in the hopes of crossing paths that way.

“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “I guess if it’s meant to be, it will be.”

“I kind of hate that idea,” Grace replies. “I’m a woman of action myself.”

I grin. Isn’t that the truth. I swear my sister came out of the womb with a planner in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“I hate it too. But I’m kind of at a loss right now. If enough time passes—well. I’ll reassess. In the meantime, I’m gonna go slow.”

“As slow as you’re bein’ with this breakfast?” Grace sits up on her stool. “I’m starving.”

I cock a brow. “You’ve never been a big breakfast person.”

There it is again—that blush.

Something’s up.

Not that it’s any of my business. But I find myself hoping that something isn’t sleeping with Luke.

“I’ve been…exercising a lot lately. My appetite has gotten, like, huge.”

Oh Lord.

I give her a look. “There something you wanna tell me, baby sis?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Neither am I. Tell me why you got stars in your eyes.”