All She Wanted (2) (12 page)

Charlie

He
touched
my hair.

No one had ever done that before—not
like that.

My face burned, my pulse raced, and my
thoughts were on a man who was not Alex Monroe.

Briggs
 

After a quick shower, I found Angie’s first-aid
kit on the floor of her garage. I took out the ace bandage. While still kneeling
on the cold cement floor, I squeezed it in my palm, taking in a deep breath. In
a minute I would be close to Charlie again—
touching
her again. I exhaled hard and rubbed my forehead with my fisted hands.

How
is it possible that a girl I haven’t even known for three weeks could make me
feel this way?

The door opened behind me. I jumped to
my feet, brushing a hand through my hair.

“Oh—
good
, you
found it,” Angie asked letting the door swing closed behind her, “Did you want me
to save you some cake?”

“Sure, that would be fine…” I said,
staring down at the bandage in my hand.

“Is everything okay?” Angie asked crossing
her arms in front of her.

I looked up briefly, before making a
move to walk past her, “Yep.”

She blocked the doorway, scrutinizing
me.

“You’re freaking out.”

“I am not—now please move, Angie. I’ve
gotta
go wrap a wrist.”

“Oh, just
a wrist
, huh?” she challenged.

“We all got ‘
em
,”
I mocked.

“Yeah, but not all wrists are created
equal.”

“Your point?” I asked, meeting her eyes
for the first time.

“My point is
,
I like her, Briggs. And yeah before you say it…I get that she’s
very
likable
,
but that’s not what I mean. I like her for
you
. She has something…something you need, and I’d be willing to bet that
you’ve got something she needs, too.”

I shook my head, “It’s not like that,
Angie. Charlie doesn’t see me that way—besides, she was engaged five months
ago.”

Angie smiled, “
Was
being the key word. And if he was stupid enough to lose her,
then he didn’t deserve her.”

My thoughts exactly.

“And what makes you think
I could
deserve her?”

She laughed softly, and shook her head.
“Because the men who don’t would never ask that question.”

**********

“Okay, let’s get this wrapped,
Shortcake, and then we should probably get on the road. Angie’s making you a
to-go bag of ice for the car.”

I sat down next to her on the couch,
carefully taking the icepack off her wrist. The swelling had gone down, but she
would be sore for a while. Some bruising had already surfaced on her pale skin.

“We may need to get you some stronger
meds tonight so you can sleep. I’m guessing this is gonna take about a week or
two to heal.”

“A week? How am I supposed to play the
piano?”

“You’re not, Shortcake. It needs to
rest, the ligaments are strained and they have to heal,” I said
apologetically.
 

She sighed as I started the wrap.

“Spread your fingers as wide as you can
so I can get the tension right. I know it hurts, but the pressure of the
bandage will help a lot.” I smoothed the tail of the bandage out and clipped it
into place.

Feeling her hand in mine was the reminder
of everything I hoped to be, along with the reality of everything I was not: A
man good enough for Charlie.

Charlie

Angie and Cody walked us to my car to
say goodbye.

The sun had set a couple of hours ago,
and the partygoers had all gone home. Cody was more than thrilled with his
birthday loot and had thanked me profusely for the gifts I had given him. Briggs
rolled his eyes at me, but I was grateful we had stayed through the present
opening.

“Bye, Uncle B, and thanks for the
tickets!”

I looked at Briggs for clarification,
but Cody answered instead.

“He’s taking me and my friend Dillon to
opening day at Six Flags! It’s only two weeks away—Mom, lets mark it on the calendar!”
Cody said looking at Angie.

“Okay, sweetheart. We can mark it,” she
laughed before leaning in to hug Briggs, “Thank you both for coming tonight.
Sorry about your wrist, Charlie, I hope it won’t keep you from coming again.
Running in the mud is not the norm around here—despite what Briggs may tell you.”

“I’m very glad I came—sorry to have
caused the medical drama of the party…but someone’s got to do it, eh?” I
laughed.

Angie hugged me as Briggs opened my
door to help me inside. He was extra careful to keep my arm from bumping into
anything as he pulled my seatbelt across my lap. I felt a zing of electricity
shoot through me as his hand pressed against my hip to secure it. When he pushed
himself upright, the warmth I had felt went with him.

“Let’s leave the top down on our drive
back,” I said to Briggs.

“Charlie, it’s barely fifty degrees out
right now, you’ll freeze.”

I watched him give one final hug to
Cody before he ran to catch up with Angie at the front door. Briggs turned back
to me.

 
“No,
I won’t, I promise…it will be so fun,
please
.
I have a blanket in the trunk and we can blast the heat and turn on the seat
warmers,” I begged.

He shook his head as he reached into
the backseat. I could see that half smile of his start to take over his face.

I win.

I wished I had put my sweatshirt on
before my wrist had really started to hurt. The once dull ache had turned into
a constant throb like a child beating on a drum. The idea of putting anything
over my head that would require arm coordination was completely out of the
question.

A blanket would work just fine.

Briggs went to the trunk and unfolded a
large fleece blanket. He laid it over me, tucking in the excess underneath me
like I was one of my Aunt Carol’s hot tamales.

It was nice.

He
was nice.

As we pulled out of the driveway, I
looked at him.

And then, despite the pain of my wrist,
I started to giggle.

Briggs

“Have you been drinking? Is that what
you were
really
doing when I thought
you were ice-
ing
?”
 
I looked at her, surprised by her sudden bout of hysterics. She was an
explosion of sounds and snorts. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, she would
launch into yet another round.

“
Nnnoo
….I
ssswear
.
Angie…told me…something
ffunnnny
!”

Oh great,
about me no less.

Finally, she took a deep breath, securing
her bad wrist closer to body. I felt a tightening in my chest as I looked at
it. The idea of Charlie being in any sort of pain was not one I wanted to dwell
on for long.

“What did she tell you?” I asked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lift
her head off the seat and look at me, “The story of the pickle juice ice cubes!”

Ah yes,
now that was a good one.

“Hey, those kids had it coming. How were
we supposed to know Mrs. Brown would be there, too?”

She laughed again, and I joined in,
remembering.

Angie and I were in the third and
fourth grade when we had decided to start selling lemonade at the sports field
near our house. We had each saved some of our lunch money so we could buy the supplies
we needed. We were determined to get a pool for the summer, one that didn’t
take our parents to set up.
 
We had
started selling in April, and were hopeful that by the end of school we would
have the funds we needed.

Sales were going great, as both parents
and kids would pass us each time they came on and off the field—that was, until
Jimmy Han started coming around. At first he seemed to be complementing our
efforts by bringing us customers with his verbal advertisements, but that
quickly changed.

One Saturday, Jimmy beat us to the
field and took our set-up spot. He and his big fifth grade buddies were not
only selling lemonade, but cookies too.

We had been nice about it at first, telling
him we could all work as a team and share our profits, but Jimmy was not the negotiating
type. It was almost funny now to think back on a time when I resolved conflict without
the need for physical blows, but I wasn’t a match for size then.

I was however, a match in wit.

Angie and I went back to the house and
I thought up a plan: Pickle Juice Ice Cubes.

By the next weekend, we had stocked up
at least a dozen ice cube trays filled with frozen pickle juice. We poured them
all into a large bucket and walked over to Jimmy and his gang of idiots,
pulling our special bucket and supplies in a wagon. It was then, that Angie put
on the show of her life.

“Well I guess you boys win, it’s fair
and square since you got here before us. I just don’t know what we should do
with all these extra supplies? I mean, we just filled this bucket up with ice,”
she’d whined to Jimmy.

I smiled as he took the bait—and our
ice.

I helped Angie pour it into his giant industrial-size
drink cooler, hopeful the smell of pickles wouldn’t be too obvious. After we
screwed the lid back on for him, we ran all the way back home, laughing till we
cried.

Unfortunately for us, our principal was
also at the field that day for a tournament, and she had been especially thirsty
for some lemonade. When Jimmy investigated the sour taste that people were
complaining of, they were able to pin-point the source, easily. Mrs. Brown did
not find our little prank funny, earning Angie and I her
special attention
for the rest of the school year.
 

Ultimately though, it had been worth
it.

“That was a great day,” I said.

“I can just imagine that taste…how
awful!” Charlie cried.

I watched as Charlie awkwardly inched
the blanket higher onto her chest with one arm. The wind was chilly, but the
heater and seat warmers had made it bearable—she had been right about that. I
reached over and lifted the top of the blanket up to tuck it behind her
shoulder.

“How’s your wrist, Shortcake?”

“About the same. I don’t feel it as
much when it stays stationary like this. I think the ibuprofen really helped.”

“Are you just saying that so I don’t
take you in for a stronger prescription? Or is that really the truth?” I
challenged.

Her brows furrowed into the sassy look that
I had come to expect from Charlie.

“I have never been dishonest with you,
if anything
you’re
the liar here.”

“Whoa…those are some big words for a
munchkin. When have
I lied
to you?”

“Uh, hello! Although I had a great time
tonight, coming to this party was not the result of your stellar honesty,” she
said, “and…you did tell me there would be dancing.”

“Hmm…the party was a bit of stretch,
but I did fess up to it before you got in the car. The dancing? Well, we’ll
have to remedy that when you’re not sportin’ a broken wing.”

She turned her face to me and smiled,
the wind whipping her ponytail to the side.

“Is that a promise, Briggs—or should I
say…
Calvin
?”

I grimaced.

Angie
better be very glad she lives an hour away.

Charlie

Oh, that was even more satisfying than
I had imagined.

I have
Angie to thank for that.

I had wondered about his name—I mean,
who named their son Briggs? But the answer had been simple enough. It was the
first half of his hyphenated last name,
Briggs-Morrison.
It had started out as a sports nickname in middle school, but by the time he was
in high school, it had replaced his given name—
Calvin
, entirely. According to Angie, no one knew him by anything
other than Briggs.

I smiled; it was unique, just like he
was.

He parked the car and was at my door
before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt. He opened it, focusing his eyes on
mine.

“Okay, so I’m going to help you out,
and then I’m going to help you get settled-in for the night, Shortcake.”

What? No.

“Um, that’s okay, Briggs. I’m sure I can
manage-”

“No.”

“But it’s just my-”

“No.”

I huffed in exasperation. The look on
his face wasn’t likely to fade—I knew it well.

“Is there anything I can say
to-
”

“No.”

“Alright then, sounds like a plan,” I
said, rolling my eyes.

An insane fluttering started deep within
my core as he leaned over me. I wanted to laugh from the anxiety welling up
inside me, but thankfully, I didn’t. The meds I had taken hours earlier had all
but worn off, and I was definitely feeling the pain now, yet his close
proximity dulled it tremendously.

“Don’t try to help, Shortcake, just
relax—otherwise you’ll strain your wrist, and it will hurt.”

I raised my arm as Briggs un-tucked the
blanket from my body, an immediate shiver running down my spine like a pulled
zipper. My seatbelt was off a second later. He carefully scooped his arm behind
my back as I kept my arm pinned to my abdomen, and slid me out of the seat to
stand on the pavement. I felt my face flush with heat as our bodies touched,
deciding then to keep my eyes away from his, which took every ounce of will
power I had. I focused instead on my wrapped wrist, as if my gaze alone could
heal it.

He followed me inside the house.

As we neared the top of the stairs, I
realized he had never been up there before. I told myself it was stupid to feel
so nervous—he was a paramedic—wasn’t he put in awkward situations like this on
a daily basis? I was just another patient, some injured girl with a hurt wrist that
he was providing care for.

He stopped in the doorway of my bedroom
as I went to sit on my bed. I kicked off my heels—which felt completely
ridiculous since I was still wearing Angie’s sweats pants—but they were the
only shoes I had with me since I had destroyed her flip-flops in the mud pit.
As they thumped on the floor I looked up at him, his face curious and
conflicted.

“What do you need, Charlie?”

The question caused my chest to
constrict like a rubber band—proving my answer was far from simple.

I needed to figure out what on earth
was going on with me.

I needed to understand how Briggs could
be undoing the damage in my heart, with just one look.

I needed…

I just
needed
.