At First Sight by Hannah Sunderland (best inspirational books txt) 📗

He nodded his approval at me and walked by, rolling his candy-coloured suitcase behind him before announcing to no one in particular, ‘I like her.’

Chapter Fourteen

I stood in the window of the first coffee shop I found after leaving Charlie’s house. It was a run-of-the-mill chain place with nondescript music only just noticeable over the screech of steam wands and the groaning of coffee grinders. I’d thought it best to get out of Charlie’s flat and let what promised to be an uncomfortable conversation between uncle and nephew go ahead without me lurking in the corner. I wasn’t sure if I liked Carrick or if he was someone who would quickly get on my nerves, but the potential for both was there.

I watched the barista as he pushed my three paper cups of coffee down into a recycled paper cup holder and then walked in my direction. He looked down at the receipt and reeled them off. ‘One Americano, one flat white and one … hot chocolate with a shot of chai and caramel syrup.’ He grimaced at the sound of it and I didn’t blame him. I stepped forward, took the cups and started the short walk back to Charlie’s.

The air was definitely changing, getting milder as the dregs of winter filtered away, but there was still an undeniable nip in the air. I pulled the oversized hoodie tight around my body and held the zip together with my free hand. Before I’d left, I’d discovered that Magnus was asleep on my coat and, not wanting to disturb him for a second time in one morning, I’d asked if I could borrow something. Charlie had thrown me the cleanest hoodie he could find and I’d put it on without really thinking about it. But now, as I absentmindedly let the zips sag away from each other and lifted the collar up to my nose, I thought about how intimate it was to wear someone else’s clothes. This was Charlie’s smell, impregnated into the fabric and making it smell like no one else on the planet. It was the same smell I’d breathed in as I’d kissed him last night, the same smell I never wanted to forget.

Gettin’ a good whiff there, are yer?

Shit not her again. What was happening to me? Was this really just my conscience taken form or was I having a full-blown mental breakdown?

Nah, I think it’s just your guilty conscience.

‘I have nothing to feel guilty for,’ I said quietly. Did that actually just happen? Did I just talk to someone who I knew wasn’t there?

Oh no, absolutely nothin’. Two years. Two feckin’ years. You can’t even finish uni in two years and yet that seems more than enough time to move on to the next hussy.

A postman, clad in red shorts and with an armful of letters, came out of a driveway and nodded me a good morning. I returned it before turning back to whatever the apparition beside me was and whisper-shouting: ‘I am not a hussy.’

The postman frowned at me over his shoulder as I turned the corner back to Charlie’s.

Oh no, course you aren’t. Desperately hanging around with an emotionally distraught widower whilst also stringin’ along the boyfriend that you’re never gonna get back with, even though you’re fully aware that it’s gonna break his heart when you eventually get up the balls to send him on his way.

‘Shut up.’ I was almost jogging now. Literally running away from my problems.

The drinks sloshed through the holes on the lids of the takeaway cups but I didn’t care. I had to get back to people, real people. I reached Charlie’s building and pressed the buzzer, panting as I checked behind me. She was gone, nowhere to be found.

Back inside the flat, I handed out the drinks and sat down on the sofa beside Charlie while Carrick sat on the edge of the coffee table, his elbows resting on his skinny knees.

‘So, what’s going on?’ I asked, trying to act oblivious to the tension that was turning the consistency of the air to jelly.

‘Ah, nothin’,’ Carrick said, his bottom lip pouty. ‘Young Charlie here was just being an enormous pain in my arse and the cat just took a swipe at my ankles, so I’m feelin’ welcome.’

I turned to Charlie, the awkwardness making my body feel rigid. He didn’t look up at me, just pressed on the lid of his coffee, causing it to make an annoying, incessant clicking noise.

Click, click, click. It sounded like the ticking of a clock, which was fitting, I guess.

‘So, what brings you here, Carrick? Are you staying?’ I asked.

‘I’ve come here to haul Charlie’s pale, insubordinate arse back to Westport to set some things straight.’

‘What things?’ I asked. Charlie squirmed in his seat and it became clear that there was more to this story that I hadn’t heard yet.

‘Can’t it just be left alone?’ Charlie finally joined in the conversation.

Carrick’s face turned bright pink for a second and fury flickered through his blue eyes. ‘Listen here, Charlie Boy. You made me a promise – remember that. Time’s almost up and when yer were up on that clock—’ He stopped, eyeing me suspiciously and his anger seemed to wane a little and turn into shiftiness. ‘Yer can’t leave anythin’ undone or any people without explanations, no matter how shitty those explanations are.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Charlie said in an annoyed tone of voice. ‘Nell knows.’

Click, click, click.

‘Thank feck for that.’ He sighed. ‘Look, there’s a whole lotta people back there that need closure and you’re the only one left who can grant it to them. Hell, maybe you’ll find a little yerself when yer see that everyone else is movin’ on and healin’, unlike you.’

So, Carrick had received a call on that night too. Had Carrick’s call been before or after Ned’s?

Maybe this would be a good thing for Charlie. For two years he’d been running from anything to do with Abi, content with settling into