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They fell into a friendly silence of needing nothing. Niall watched Chuck when Chuck wasn’t looking—the jaw, the curls gone gold at his nape, the scars that crossed both hands.
“How’d you get those?” Niall asked, nodding at the marks before he stopped himself.
Chuck touched one reflexively. “Boat rope, believe it or not. One of the Coast Guard boys took exception to me flirting.”
Niall snorted. “Guess you’ve got a knack for picking the wrong guy.”
“Yeah, never thought about it that way. Let’s just say I like a challenge.”
He flexed the scarred hand and stared at his knuckles.
“Very on-brand for Chuck Mitchum.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I was a gentleman about it.”
“Were you really?”
“No,” Chuck admitted with a grin. “I was a cocky little shit he fished out of the bay. I deserved worse. But I won the fight, even if I didn’t get the guy.”
Niall laughed, surprised at how easy it was to talk to Chuck. “I can’t imagine getting into a fight.”
“Never? Not even in school?”
“I was more the ‘hide in the library during lunch’ type.”
“The smart ones.” Chuck said it teasing, but he meant it. “I always envied dudes like you.”
“Like me?”
“Book smarts. Knew what they were doing. Parents who gave a damn. Having plans and following them.”
Niall thought about Elise, San Francisco, all his ambitions going sideways. “Plans don’t always work out.”
“Tell me about it.” For a second, Chuck’s face darkened. Then he shook it off. “I’d say sometimes the detours are more interesting than the main road.”
“So Candle Bay is a detour for you?”
Chuck considered this, head cocked. “More like a pit stop. A place to refuel before getting back out there.”
“So you’re not staying.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Or maybe. I never know until I do, and then I know too much.” He caught Niall’s gaze and held it. “Who knows? I might find something worth staying for.”
Chuck held his gaze and wouldn’t let go. Niall couldn’t make himself look away.
Niall’s phone went off, and they both flinched. Niall nearly knocked over his soda.
“Sorry, I should—” He fumbled for the phone and checked the caller ID. “It’s the theater. I should take this.”
Chuck nodded and leaned back. “Go ahead.”
Niall answered the phone, his heart still jumping around from whatever that moment had almost been. “Hello?”
“Mr. Ashworth? This is Darla from up at the Paper Bag Players. Theater games wrapped up half an hour early tonight. There’s been an itsy-bitsy incident with the bower set.”
“Is Winnie okay?” The words came out sharper than he meant, edged with panic.
“Oh, she’s fine. Just covered in glitter. Someone knocked over the fairy dust and a tree. Make that two trees.” Darla sounded frazzled, like she was juggling four things at once with more incoming. “If you could pick her up in the next twenty minutes, that would be perfect-o.”
