“Brake!” Amelia’s voice is manic as Justin maneuvers the sleek white Mercedes around a sharp curve, the car jostling over bumps in the backcountry road.

And so it starts…

Charlotte slides a little farther down on the leather seats, turning towards the window. The landscape is a mix of brown and white, barren trees and brittle glass all covered in a thin dusting of snow, the sky a steely gray color. Amelia sits in the front passenger seat as Justin drives, giving him pointers until finally as they were turning onto highway 51 he mentioned that she didn’t even have a driver’s license and she had sat in stony silence for the past fifteen minutes. That is until they left the highway and were traveling down back roads.

“Babe,” Justin says laughing, joy radiating off him like an aura as he takes another curve, zipping around it and causing Amelia to grip her seat tightly. “I learned how to drive on these roads! I know them like the back of my hand.”

“You learned to drive in Florida,” Amelia says, gasping as they clear a steep hill and Charlotte grins as her stomach drops.

She always loved that feeling. Her mother would kill her if she ever found out that one of her and Paul’s favorite pastimes was jumping hills when he first got his driver’s license was jumping hills. The feeling of freedom as the car crested the hill and for less than half a second you were airborne, your stomach doing summersaults. She remembered the feel of her barely contained scream in the back of her throat and then Paul’s howl of triumph as the tires touched back down, both of them laughing, the windows down, the radio up. She stares out the window at the brown country side, bare trees and evergreen bushes rolling by and she misses home. She fights the lump in her throat as she thinks of her mother and father, how crushed they were when she had told them she wouldn’t be coming. Even Isaac had sounded disappointed, whether it was because he wouldn’t get to drive her through town with the sirens blaring or he really missed her she wasn’t entirely sure but the regret in his voice was enough to make her stomach turn in guilt.

“I did not,” Justin argues lightly, turning down another winding road and Charlotte notices the houses are getting larger.

“Excuse me,” Amelia replies turning in her seat to look at him. “You were sixteen so you were with your little boy group. In Florida. Where it never snowed-Justin be careful!” she exclaims as he twists the car around a tight curve.

“It’s not snowing!” Justin exclaims, ignoring her protests and Charlotte leans her head against the cool glass of the windshield, misery settling in. She gave up Christmas with her family for this?

“There is snow on the ground which means there could be ice on the road. Why you didn’t just get a driver-”

Justin sighs, his voice tired and low. “They don’t have driving services in Millington, Amelia.”

“Which is just one of the many reasons we don’t live here,” Amelia replies snottily, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring out the window.

Justin’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel, gritting his teeth to keep his mouth shut. He takes a deep breath and lets off the gas as he goes around the next curve, taking it slower than he normally would have. He glances at Charlotte in the rearview mirror to find her staring morosely out her window, her forehead resting against the glass and he sighs. He always hated spending Christmas away from his family too.

Charlotte’s head rolls to the side and she catches sight of Justin’s eyes watching her in the rearview mirror. He looks back at the road quickly but not quick enough for her to miss the expression of pity on his face. She feels a blush creep up her neck. She shouldn’t mope. She should try and make the best of this situation.

“Your turn is coming up,” Amelia says pointing at the GPS and Justin turns his head to look at her, blinking slowly.

Something tells her that’s going to be easier said than done.

“Amelia,” he says chuckling slightly in disbelief as the car slows and Charlotte peers out the window at the large brick house they are approaching. “I’ve lived here since I was four years old.”

Charlotte’s eyes rove over the great French Provincial home, the bricked driveway climbing towards the three car garage at a slight incline. White twinkle lights wrap around garland that hangs in draped ropes along the stair-stepped retaining walls lining the drive, the small lights winking at them in the midmorning gloom. Justin pulls in, parking next to a dark gray BMW and he shuts off the car, stepping out almost immediately. Amelia grumbles something inaudible as she climbs wearily out of the car and Charlotte slides out, slightly uncertain as to what she should be doing.

“Charlotte, pop the trunk,” Amelia says offhandedly as she strides after Justin. “Justin, the bags!” She sighs when he doesn’t turn, just hurries quickly along the brick walkway.

Charlotte is moving around to the driver’s side of the car, opening the door and searching for the trunk button when she hears the sound of a front door opening. She looks back and sees a woman in her late forties, trotting down the small sidewalk, her blond curly hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She smiles as if it was already Christmas morning and Charlotte recognizes that smile. It’s the exact same as Justin’s.

“There’s my son!” she exclaims as she throws her arms open and Justin wraps his arms around her, enveloping her against him and they stay that way for a long moment.

“Hey Momma,” he drawls softly, kissing her cheek and Charlotte turns away as the lump returns to her throat. What she would give to hug her mother right now.

“Amelia,” Justin’s mother says jovially but it doesn’t hold the warmth it did when she addressed her son.

“Hey Lynn,” Amelia replies, forcing a smile as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

“Well would you look at you,” Lynn says with a sigh as she surveys Justin’s slim frame. “You look good!” She tugs the sleeve of his wool coat. “This is nice.”

“I had that sent from Milan, isn’t it just wonderful,” Amelia says, reaching to dust his shoulder. “He doesn’t like it.” Amelia sighs.

Justin blushes as his mother looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s bulky,” he says scrunching and unscrunching his shoulders. Amelia frowns and his stomach tightens. “I…I mean I thought so at first. I like it now.”

Lynn’s eyes narrow just slightly but she merely pats his shoulder, keeping her hand there and he smiles. Her attention is pulled to the car where Charlotte is moving around to open the trunk all the way, scratching her head as she surveys the luggage packed tightly into the small space.

“Is that Charlotte?” Lynn asks and he turns to see Charlotte struggling to tug one of Amelia’s bags out of the trunk.

He sighs. “Yeah- Hey Charlie I’ll get that,” he hollers, trotting over to her and smiling warmly at her as he pulls the bag easily from the trunk. “Come here I want you to meet my mother.”

“Do ya’ll need some help?” Lynn asks, her soft southern drawl coming from directly behind him and Charlotte turns and notes that her soft blue eyes are the same shade as Justin’s.

“We got it, Mom,” Justin says, heaving another bag out and setting it on the driveway with a thump, heaving a sigh. “This is Charlotte Jenson,” Justin says turning to face them and Charlotte smiles awkwardly. “Charlotte this is my mother, Lynn Harless,” he grins as one of his arms slips around her waist.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte says extending her hand and Lynn grasps it giving her a dazzling smile.

“You too, honey,” Lynn says and then moves to grab a bag from the trunk.

“Mom,” Justin says warningly. “Stop, I got it.”

“You want me to get your dad?” Lynn asks eyeing the trunk wearily and then glancing back at Amelia who’s standing stiffly by the front steps. “Did she bring her whole wardrobe?”

Justin snorts. “Are you kidding me, this is packing light for Amelia.”

They all waddle their way to the front door, Lynn insisting on helping and threatening to whip Justin if he protested one more time. His mouth snapped shut and his ears turned red, glancing at Charlotte who giggled softly. He ducked his head grabbing a few bags and scurrying towards the door.

They step inside and Charlotte looks around, taking in the high vault of the ceiling, the tall second story window filtering in the gray morning light. Floral arrangements adorn cherry wood side tables and plush Persian rugs warm the deep hardwood floors. The foyer opens to the left into a sunken living room, a grand piano nestled against large windows overlooking the side lawn, a fireplace on the east wall. There’s a dining room on the right with dark burgundy walls and deep cherry wood furnishings, the table luxuriously set. A carpeted staircase opens in front of them climbing up to the balconied second story, hallways on either side and for all the grandeur it exudes this aura of hominess and even though Charlotte has only been here for only a few minutes she feels comfortable here.

She’s startled as a sound like thunder pulls from the depths of the house, the scratching of claws on hard surface echoing off the walls and Charlotte’s eyes widen as two large dogs come tearing from the hallway to the left of the stairs, hurdling toward them at breakneck speed. Amelia lets out a shrill scream as they skid to a stop in front of her and Justin grins widely cooing at them as he bends over to rub their ears and pat their backs.

“Aw they missed you, J,” Lynn says reaching to take Charlotte and Amelia’s coats.

“Justin take off your coat. You’re going to get dog hair all over it,” Amelia scolds softly, scoffing as one of the mammoth animals licks Justin’s face enthusiastically.

Justin just laughs, rubbing the dogs face and nuzzling their noses together. “Don’t listen to Amelia, Brennan,” he says holding the dog’s face in his hands. “She’s just jealous.”

“I assure you I’m not,” Amelia replies dryly and Justin sighs shrugging off his coat and handing it to his mother, reaching down to scratch the other dog’s stomach.

“Buckleeeeeeey!” he coos scratching the dog’s ribs, laughing when Buckley’s leg starts to jiggle.

“Everybody’s here,” Lynn says with a smile as she finishes putting their coats away in the front closet.

“Granny and Granddad?” Justin asks, standing to his full height again and Lynn nods.

“And Rachel and Brad and the baby and-”

“It’s about goddamn time you showed up you sorry ass motherfucker!!!”

Charlotte nearly jumps out of her skin and Amelia gasps, reaching up to clutch her throat in alarm as a short man with dark wavy hair strolls into the entry way. Justin’s face breaks into a wide grin that mimics the one on the other mans face and they reach out to embrace, clapping each other hard on the back and they pull back laughing.

“Jesus,” the other man exclaims, eyeing the pile of bags around their feet. “You going on tour or something?”

Justin chuckles still beaming. “Nah it’s Amelia’s.” He waves a hand dismissively and Amelia huffs.

The other man’s smile turns hard, looking almost like a cringe as his eyes fall on Amelia who looks at him with barely veiled disdain.

“Amelia!” he says with forced enthusiasm. “Think you brought enough shit?”

“I like to be prepared, Tracey” Amelia smirks and the other man narrows his eyes. “Good to see that you’re still as…” she pauses looking him up and down, casting her disapproving gaze on his blue jeans and t-shirt. “unrefined as ever.” She gives him a tart smile.

“Now let’s not get to name callin,” he responds a wicked grin pulling across his face. “I wouldn’t wanna have to call you R-”

“Trace,” Justin exclaims with a nervous chuckle. “You’ve never met Charlotte. Charlotte,” he gestures to her and then grins. “This is my best friend, Trace. Trace this is Charlotte.”

Trace eyes her for a moment before extending his hand “Pleasure to meet you Charlotte.” Charlotte grasps it firmly and he smiles, his eyes flicking to Justin briefly and then back to her. “You Justin’s new girlfriend or something?”

Charlotte’s eyes go wide and she snatches her hand back and even though Trace is smirking, clearly enjoying the annoyance on Amelia’s face, she can’t help the rush of panic that runs through her.

“She’s my assistant,” Amelia snaps, glaring at him.

Trace’s eyes widen and he snorts. “You brought an assistant?”

“Trace,” Lynn chastises under her breath and he looks at the floor.

“Come on Trace,” Justin says, his tone mocking as he curls his arm around Amelia’s shoulder, tugging her against his chest. “Amelia’s got a lot going on. All important and shit.” He drops a kiss on her cheek and she bristles.

“Don’t curse,” she mutters and he presses his lips together, looking at the floor. Trace looks like he wants to laugh but thinks better of it.

“Trace, what are you doing?”

It’s a high girlish voice that echoes from the right hallway and Charlotte’s eyes widen as a pretty girl with flame red hair bounces into the foyer. She’s young, maybe twenty-two, the curves of her body hugged tight by dark washed denim jeans and a snow white sweater that dips low, revealing cleavage that would make even Amelia jealous. Justin stares at her slack jawed and Amelia’s gaze flits between him and the girl, her face set in a frown.

“Oh hi!” she exclaims, her face lighting up in a joyous smile. “You must be Justin. I’m so excited to finally meet you. Trace just talks about you all the time and – oh look- Amelia! Wow that’s such a cute outfit. I wanted something like that but it was too expensive. I just love your style. We seriously need to talk. And you’re an assistant right? I saw you in the papers. Wow, this is just so great.”

The other occupants of the room stare at her in silent wonder and she just grins, leaning on Trace who is smiling, slightly embarrassed as his arm wraps around her tiny waist. Justin’s eyes are still slightly wide and Amelia steps closer to him, her ice blue eyes gazing at the girl disapprovingly.

“Oh I’m Ginger by the way,” she adds finally, resting her chin on Trace’s shoulder as she watches them in slight awe and then she jerks as if remembering something. “Trace I can’t find my cell phone, can you call it?”

Trace nods, fishing his phone out of his pocket and clicking a few buttons. Everyone is silent, listening and they all give a slight jolt as music blares from somewhere near by.

SHA-LA-LA-LA DON’T BE SCARED YOU GOT THE MOOD PREPARED GO ON AND KISS DEE GIRL!

Trace scrunches his face in embarrassment as Ginger exclaims, “Oh jeez,” and bends down, the creamy expanse of her lower back revealed as her shirt hikes up. Justin looks at him and sniggers.

SHA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA DON’T STOP NOW DON’T TRY TO HIDE IT HOW YOU WANNA KISS DEE GIRL!

She plucks the small thin cell phone from the loose looping of her shoe laces and rights herself, flicking it open just as Trace flips his closed and puts it back in his pocket.

“Thanks Trace-Trace,” Ginger coos, pecking him on the cheek.

“I thought your ringtone was that Cindy Lauper song,” he mutters under his breath and Ginger smiles up at him.

“Oh it is,” she says looping her arm through his and twisting, swinging them slightly in place. “That’s your ring tone.” She smoothes his hair back from his face and he grins, his cheeks reddening and Justin sniggers again.

Ginger sighs. “I have no idea why I put it there. Probably because I didn’t want to lose it or something.” Her face screws up in confusion, as if this train of thought is just beyond her grasp. “Kind of an odd place though.” She snaps out of it shaking her head and then beams at them, her smile bright and unaffected. “Well, it was nice meeting all of you!” she says scrunching up her shoulders as if the excitement has caused all her muscles to seize upward. She gives a brilliant smile and turns to bounce back down the hallway. “FOUND IT!” she hollers and her voice echoes toward the back of the house.

Justin watches the sway of her hips until she flounces around the corner. Amelia huffs and he blinks hard shaking his head as his eyes fall on Trace who’s just now turning back to the group shaking his head. Justin quarks an eyebrow at him, mouthing “Trace-Trace???” and Trace smirks, gripping the air in front of him as if it were hips and his eyes roll back in his head before grinning and winking at Justin. They both snigger and Amelia rolls her eyes, hitting Justin’s chest with the back of her hand and he clears his throat looking at the floor.

“Well,” Lynn says clearing her throat as well and reaching for the handles of a few of the bags at her feet. “Why don’t we get these upstairs?”

It’s a mass exodus up the stairs, each person climbing slowly, their arms straining under the weight of the bags. The dogs trot happily after them, panting and sniffing curiously at the luggage. Even on the second floor the ceiling is high, the white walls climbing up and up and Charlotte notices as she follows Justin down the hall that the general art work of the foyer has given way to framed family photos. Part of her wants to stop and survey them, see Justin as a little boy, a gangly teenager, a young man, but another part of her, the homesick part, can’t stand to look so she stares straight ahead, her eyes focused on the hair curling at the nape of Justin’s neck.

“Here Charlie you take this one,” Justin says nodding his head at the closed door to her left and he pauses to take one of Amelia’s bags from her so that she’s only carrying her own.

She steps inside, dropping her bags on the floor next to the bed and looks around. The room is fairly stark compared to the rest of the house, nothing but a bed and a dresser, a chair in the corner. There’s a Janet Jackson poster on the closet door and a basketball sitting in the chair. She glances out the window to see the swimming pool covered in a black tarp below. The backyard stretches far to the tree line, a few oaks and maples dotting the lawn and Charlotte sighs sitting on the bed, her mind wandering to her family but she snaps back quickly. She really shouldn’t mope.

She hears the jingle of a collar and Buckley rounds the end of the bed moving to stand next to her, sniffing at her shoes, his tail wagging so hard that his entire body wiggles. Charlotte grins reaching to rub his ears and his sniffing stops, his eyes closing in pleasure. She giggles, working her fingers around his neck and scratching under his collar. His leg starts to jiggle.

“Charlie,” she turns and sees Justin leaning in the doorway, looking around the room with a longing expression before his eyes settle on her and Buckley. He grins. “ Making friends?”

“Yeah we’re getting acquainted,” she replies, patting his head affectionately and his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth panting. She looks back and sees Justin smiling softly at her.

He shakes his head as if snapping out of a daze. “Sorry you got stuck in my old room,” he says eyeing the poster on the door. “Amelia thinks the bed is too small.”

“It’s fine,” Charlotte says, her hand still moving continuously over Buckley’s head.

“Hey you doin’ okay?” he asks softly and Charlotte’s eyes meet his, finding him looking at her sympathetically. She blushes, ducking her head.

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine.”

“Good,” he says smiling but it’s not quick enough and she knows he doesn’t believe her. “Well, come on downstairs and meet the family.”

***

“He was the most precious child,” Lynn gushes from across the counter and Justin ducks his head, feeling his cheeks pinken at his mother’s words.

Charlotte looks from his mother to him, a sly smile pulling at her lips and he knows this is payback for getting her father to send those baby pictures a couple weeks back. The majority of the afternoon had been spent around the kitchen table talking as was the custom in the south. Most of the conversation had been centered around stories from his youth that he’d hoped to never hear again, but while it was mildly embarrassing the comfort of having the family together was something he’d desperately missed. It didn’t even bother him that Amelia had little less than turned her nose up at a lunch of Philly Cheese steak sandwiches because he loved his mother’s Philly cheese steak sandwiches and he wasn’t going to let her sulking ruin this for him. He was home.

His dogs were laying under the table at his feet and he enjoyed nudging them every now and then, listening to Buckley’s soft growl and jumping at the feel of Brennan’s tongue on his ankle. His grandmother is just now starting to make dinner, his mother helping as much as Sadie would allow. His grandfather is sitting at the head of the table telling jokes that never failed to make him laugh. Trace is sitting across from him, laughing and sharing looks, knowing Justin even in silence. Ginger leans on his arm, listening animatedly to all the stories being told. Rachel is sitting next to him, her laughter loud and obnoxious as ever but it didn’t bother him the way it used to. She balances her daughter on her knee, little Hannah gazing around at the crowd as if she’d never seen such a spectacle. The child is the spitting image of his cousin aside from the wild curl of her hair, which he guesses runs in the family because the man sitting on the other side of his cousin, her husband Brad, has some of the straightest hair he’s ever seen. Poor kid, he couldn’t help thinking, had a fifty-fifty chance and lost.

“He was a terror,” Rachel contests and his eyes narrow at her, enjoying the cheeky grin he gets in return. Just like old times.

“He was a good kid,” his father, Paul, chimes in from the opposite head of the table and Justin grins in appreciation. “A little ornery but he was a good kid.”

“Remember when he almost took out your picnic table with the lawn mower, Billy?” Rachel asks, nodding at Justin’s grandfather who grins widely nodding.

The entire table chuckles, even Charlotte, who has been doing her best to be upbeat, though the sadness doesn’t quite leave her eyes no matter what expression she takes. Justin admires her amiability. Amelia would be throwing a fit if she were in Charlotte’s place. In fact, he thinks as his eyes flick to her, leaning back silently in her chair next to Charlotte, barely speaking if spoken to, that Amelia is throwing a fit. But it’s a quiet one and he can deal with that.

“Oh come on,” Justin sighs watching as Rachel tries to force Hannah to sit still as the child cranes her neck around trying to reach for the pendant around her mother’s neck.

“No you come on,” Rachel argues playfully, trying to pry Hannah’s fat fingers from her necklace. “You thought you were Dale Earnhardt – Hannah stop.”

“I still can’t believe you have a kid,” Justin says watching her mystified, shaking his head as he smiles softly at the child. “You make me feel old.”

“You are old,” she replies with a grin, bouncing Hannah on her knee and Justin frowns. “That big three-oh is coming up JT.”

“Not for another month,” he says watching Hannah struggle in her mother’s arms. “Com’ere Hannah,” he says, reaching to hook his large hands under the child’s armpits and she looks at him in wonder as she’s lifted into the air and set on his knee.

Hannah laughs, turning her small body in his lap and he allows her to stand on his thigh, keeping his hands around her tiny ribcage for support. She reaches up, her small hands holding his cheeks as she explores his face, a look of deep concentration in her caramel brown eyes. He smiles and her fingers poke at his bottom lip. He laughs and she pulls back startled for a moment before giggling a little herself.

“Would you look at that, he’s a natural,” Brad says, leaning over Rachel’s shoulder to watch his daughter and her uncle interact.

“I always thought Justin would be a wonderful father,” Lynn remarks, rinsing her hands under the sink and all eyes turn to Amelia who blinks back at them bewildered.

Justin grins, watching Hannah’s face closely as she traces the skin of his forehead, wincing a little as she reaches up to tug his hair. He could do this. He could take care of a little girl, teach a little boy to play basketball. He would tell the jokes his grandfather always told him. He could see himself singing them to sleep at night, driving them to school, birthdays and Christmases. He could do that. He and Amelia could-

“We haven’t really discussed children,” Amelia replies stiffly and Justin’s body jerks as if he’s been struck.

He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder and finds her sitting back in her chair unaffected, as if her statement was something as simple as saying they hadn’t discussed whether it would be orchids or roses in their floral arrangements rather than discussing their future offspring. She said it so casually, as if she’d already made up her mind. As if the answer was already no. He doesn’t realize he’s frowning until Hannah’s fingers are pushing at the corners of his mouth, urging the smile back onto his face.

“I don’t know if I want kids either,” Ginger pipes in, affirming Amelia’s underlying statement and Justin forces a smile for Hannah’s benefit even though disappointment tastes bitter in the back of his throat. “I mean…I want to have my career, you know.”

The entire table looks at her bewildered, including Trace who seems shocked at the utter idea of children from the woman he’s sleeping with. She eyes Amelia, trying to discern her reaction but seemingly can’t. Amelia plucks at her fingernails disinterestedly, looking utterly bored.

“That’s nice, dear,” Sadie says finally as she roots around inside the pantry. “Lynn, do you not have any crushed pineapple?”

Justin’s eyes grow wide. He knows what crushed pineapple means.

“I thought so,” Lynn says, pawing through the cabinet and then sighing. “I guess not.”

“Justin,” Sadie says, leaning back around the cabinet door. “Can you and Trace run up to the market on the corner?”

“Yes,” Justin says immediately, standing up and handing Hannah back to Rachel. “Yes we can. Come on Trace.”

“Whoa dude chill,” Trace says chuckling.

“He knows what crushed pineapple means, don’t you boy?” Billy asks with a grin and he leans close to Charlotte who looks confused. “My wife makes this Blueberry Crunch Cake.” He holds his chest as he closes his eyes and sighs. “Amazing.” Charlotte smiles.

“Wanna go babe?” Justin asks, nudging Amelia’s shoulder, ignoring the disgruntled look Trace gives him. He wants his girl to see all his hometown has to offer, to make her understand why he loves this place, to get her to lighten up a little.

“No,” she replies shortly and then forces a smile. “No I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Justin says, slightly disappointed, his hand dropping from her shoulder.

“What about you Gin?” Trace asks as he stands from his seat and Ginger eyes Amelia for a moment before shaking her head.

“No,” she smiles up at him blandly, “No I’m fine.”

Trace shoots Justin a look before moving around the table and they’re about to file out of the kitchen when Sadie waves Justin over. He gives her a perplexed look as he walks over, Trace waiting by the doorway.

“Justin,” Sadie says, leaning over the counter and Justin does the same, his eyes following his grandmother’s over to the table. “Why don’t you ask Charlotte to go?”

Justin’s eyes fall on Charlotte who’s staring stoically down at the ruffled placemat, her fingers plucking absently at the fabric and he wonders if she realizes how miserable she looks. He looks back at his grandmother uncertainly and she gives him a wide smile of encouragement and nods. He clears his throat.

“Hey Charlie,” he says jovially and she looks up, startled and the sadness wipes off her face but not completely. He smiles, cocking his head back towards the door. “You’re coming, let’s go.”

“Um…” she says confused. “O-okay.”

***

“Dude, if Ginger starts acting like Amelia I’m gonna kick your ass,” Trace says as they walk around the side of the house and Justin snorts.

“Oh shut up,” Justin replies as they approach an old beat up Chevy pick up that looks so out of place to Charlotte between the Lexus and the Escalade.

“I’m not fucking kidding bro,” Trace responds, pointing his keys at Justin as he rounds the back of the truck. “She’s never talked about her,” he makes air quotes, “career before in her life and Amelia shows up and now she’s all ‘my career’ and shit.”

“You just don’t like women with ambition,” Justin chuckles as he opens the passenger side door and stands back to allow Charlotte inside. “Where’d you pick her up anyway?”

Charlotte climbs in hesitantly, the leather seats cracked under her hands and she settles in the middle of the bench seat, sitting almost sideways so her feet can rest on the floorboard of the passenger side. Trace flops in beside her, jamming the key in the ignition and the truck fires up, growling loudly as Justin slides in next to her. She folds her hands around her knees, trying to take up as little space as possible. She’s not exactly sure why they asked her to come. She’s sure they would have liked some time to catch up but she can’t say she isn’t grateful. Watching Ginger trying to emulate Amelia was almost painful.

“Beauty shop,” Trace responds with a grin as he looks over his shoulder, backing the truck out of the drive. “She cuts my hair.”

Justin laughs at this, letting his head fall back against the back window, his eyes closing as he sighs. He opens his eyes and looks around at the interior of the truck, breathing deep the smell of the old leather mixed with the mint of Charlotte’s hair.

“I didn’t know you were driving this thing,” Justin says, resting his arm against the window and struggling to sit up farther. Charlotte curls into herself trying to give him more room.

“Yeah,” Trace says with a sigh as he pulls onto the open road. “I just couldn’t get rid of it. Granddad loved this thing.”

Charlotte feels Justin shift again but now it’s not because he’s crowded.

“Hey man, I…I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the funer-”

“Don’t mention it,” Trace says quickly, his eyes flicking to Charlotte and she looks at her hands on her knees, feeling more and more awkward by the second.

“Didn’t even change the radio,” Justin grins, reaching forward to fiddle with the old knobs and Trace grins.

“Hell no that’s a classic,” Trace replies as they pull onto the highway and it’s only a few miles until they see a small convenient store.

Trace pulls in and kills the engine, all of them piling out. Justin offers his hand to Charlotte as she scoots over to the edge and she takes it somewhat hesitantly, allowing him to steady her as she hops to the ground. He smiles warmly at her and she returns it a little awkwardly, slipping her hand out of his as she turns to hurry into the store.

She stops in her tracks, giving a small yelp of surprise when she comes face to face with a dingy, disheveled man, his grisly beard gray under all the dirt. He reeks of alcohol, the smell seeming to come from his very pores and he stumbles closer to Charlotte causing her to take a cautious step back. She gasps as she feels a hand clamp around her wrist and she’s tugged swiftly behind Justin, his body blocking hers as he stands at his full height.

“Stand between us,” he mutters to her as he turns, keeping his eye on the man as his hand settles on her lower back, Trace falling in on her other side.

His hand stays firmly in place until they’re inside.

“You okay?” he asks and she nods, her heart still thumping unevenly but she can feel it slowing down. He gives her a short nod, eyeing her for a moment to make sure she’s telling the truth.

“Dude!” Trace exclaims and Justin turns to find his best friend holding a magazine, a look of horror on his face. “What the FUCK is this?”

He flips the magazine so that Justin can see the cover and Justin’s ears turn bright red, looking quickly at the floor. Charlotte steps closer seeing that it’s one of those rag mags, the glossy cover showcasing a large picture of Justin and Amelia in some little boutique in Manhattan. Amelia is leaning over a table looking at something and Justin is standing next to her looking very bored and – Charlotte’s jaw drops – holding Amelia’s purse.

“What. The. Fuck.” Trace says again slower this time, chuckling as he turns the magazine back around to look at it again.

“Come on man,” Justin mutters, snatching for it but Trace pulls back grinning as he flips through the magazine.

“It matches your outfit and everything,” Trace teases and Justin scowls at him, rolling his eyes as he turns to stalk down a nearby aisle. “Fuck I’m buyin this,” he says, tucking the magazine under his arm.

Charlotte giggles, looking around at the walls decorated with animal heads and fishing lures. Old oil cans and dated coke bottles line the shelves around the ceiling and hokey metal signs with sayings like “Gone Fishin'....be back dark-thirty!” and “If it flies it dies.” Liquor bottles line the wall behind the counter and Charlotte is some what shocked to see such a small country store selling hard liquor.  There’s a freezer holding ice cream bars and fudgecicles next to a fridge that carries bait of all kinds and there’s a long aisle of beef jerky and pork rinds.

She meanders down the aisles, always within earshot of Justin and Trace, listening to them bicker playfully as they pay for the can of pineapple and the magazine, much to Justin’s chagrin. Her mind wanders like her feet do, missing home, missing her family. She realizes she’s being childish. Justin’s family welcomed her with open arms, asking polite questions of her, forcing seconds on her which she gladly took much to Amelia’s horror. Even though she’d only been there for a few hours she was already feeling akin to them and she figures that if she had to spend Christmas away from her family she was glad it was with a group as kind and welcoming as Justin’s.

She’s reading a display of bumper stickers when Justin calls her name and she finds him and Trace standing next to the door, motioning for her to come on. She scurries up the aisle following them out the door. They both slow, standing on either side of her, looking around discreetly but she knows what they’re doing and the old drunk is nowhere in sight. Both men still stay close to her until she climbs into the cab of the truck.

They pile in around her, shoulders knocking hard into hers and she rolls her eyes, nudging them with her elbows. Trace tosses his magazine onto the dashboard, Justin rolling his eyes as he sets the can of pineapple on the floorboard between his feet. That’s when Charlotte notices that he also bought another item. All she can tell is that it’s a bottle, the contents concealed by a brown paper bag.

Justin grins and so does Trace as he fires up the truck, backing out of the parking lot slowly. Charlotte watches as Justin crumples the mouth of the brown sack down, revealing only the black cap of the bottle and twisting it off, grinning as he brings it to his lips and takes a swig. He grins, holding the bottle out to Trace, who takes it and sucks down a quick swig, shivering and grimacing as he hands it back.

Justin holds the bottle out to Charlotte. “Here.”

Charlotte eyes it, not taking it. “What is it?” she asks wearily and Trace sniggers.

Justin wiggles the bottle, a low glugging sound emitting from it as the liquid sloshes inside. “Just try it. Trust me.”

Charlotte watches him through narrowed eyes for a moment and he wiggles the bottle again. She sighs taking it from him and sniffs the opening, wrinkling her nose before bringing it to her lips and taking a quick sip. Fire shoots down her throat and her eyes bug at the bitterness, a cough forcing its way from her lungs. Justin and Trace both throw their heads back, laughing hard and Charlotte blushes, trying to force down her cough.

“Charlie,” Justin chuckles, his laughing beginning to subside as he slips the bottle out of the sack, the white lettering standing out starkly against the black label. He chuckles. “Meet my friend Jack.”

He grins, slipping it back into the sack and taking another sip before handing it back over to Trace, reaching for the knob on the stereo. They turn to each other in wide-eyed shock as a clanky electric guitar fills the cab and Charlotte knows this song, the beat thumping methodically with her heart and she jumps as both men start to sing together.

“WHEN I WAS JUST A BABY, MY MAMA TOLD ME, "SON, ALWAYS BE A GOOD BOY; DON'T EVER PLAY WITH GUNS." BUT I SHOT A MAN IN RENO, JUST TO WATCH HIM DIE.”

Trace can’t quite hit the last note as Justin barely makes it and Charlotte can’t help but giggle at Trace’s off key howl and Justin’s tenor bravado. He turns to her and grins as they continue on, singing to her dramatically and she can’t help the smile that threatens to split her face open.

“WHEN I HEAR THAT WHISTLE BLOWIN' I HANG MY HEAD AND CRY.”

“Come on Charlie sing it,” Justin says before starting in again, Trace joining him, pounding the beat against the steeling wheel with an open palm.

Charlotte shakes her head embarrassed, still grinning like a fool. Leave it to Justin to make an ass out of himself and get her laughing. In that moment she forgets about missing her family and how much she wishes she were with them. In that moment she can’t imagine being anywhere else but here in this car with them.