Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elkhorn Lake shimmered in the late afternoon sun, reflecting the golden hues of the sky above, which stretched wide and endless over the rolling tree line. A single gravel road wound its way through thick woods, leading to the sprawling, weathered lake house perched at the water’s edge. The place looked like it had been standing there forever, stubborn and unbothered by time. 

Much like its owner.

Miles Matheson sat on the wraparound porch, one boot propped against the railing, a cold beer sweating in his grip. He was watching the lake when he heard the rumble of an approaching car. He didn’t bother to turn his head. He already knew who it was.

The little blue sedan rattled its way up his driveway, coming to a stop with an excited jerk. As the engine cut off, the driver’s side door swung open, and out stepped Charlie Matheson. She was all long legs, sun-kissed skin, and wind-tousled blonde hair. Her blue eyes, along with her smile, were as radiant as ever. 

“Uncle Miles!” she called, slamming the door shut with so much enthusiasm, it shook the whole vehicle. 

Her tank top clung to her in places Miles had no business noticing. He sighed wearily, took another sip of beer, and pushed himself to his feet, descending the steps just as Charlie bounded toward him.

“I’ve missed you!” She squealed, throwing her arms around him and giving him the biggest, tightest hug.

He hugged her back with a grunt. “Hey, kid.”

She'd called a few days ago and informed him that she would be spending the summer with him. (Yes, informed. There was no asking involved.) 

He’d agreed, mostly because arguing with her was usually a lost cause, but also because he secretly liked having her around. 

He hadn’t seen her much over the last several years. Hadn’t really seen anyone in his family, for that matter. But now here she was: fully grown, freshly graduated, and ready to torture him all summer long. 

A slow smirk tugged at her lips as she pulled back from the hug. “So, this is happening, huh?”

Miles exhaled through his nose. “Apparently. Your parents really okay with this?”

She gave a little shrug and hoisted her duffle bag over one shoulder, the movement stretching the fabric of her shirt in a way he definitely should not have been paying attention to. 

“Mom’s still kind of pissed,” she admitted. “But she knows she can’t stop me. And Dad… Well, Dad just said to call if you start corrupting me.”

Miles let out a short laugh, hoping it masked the way his skin felt too tight all of a sudden. “Too late for that.”

She smirked knowingly and bit her bottom lip.

He shook his head and gestured toward the house. “C’mon, troublemaker. Let’s get you settled.”

The lake house was big but lived-in, a mix of forgotten grandeur and comfortable neglect. Hardwood floors, deep leather couches, shelves lined with books and old records, and an impressive number of guitars scattered throughout. The whole place smelled like cedar, aged whiskey, and something unnameable but inherently Miles.

Charlie ran her fingers along the spines of records and trailed them over the worn leather armrest of the couch before spinning slowly to take it all in. “I forgot how cool this place is.”

Miles quietly watched her for a moment, something unspoken passing between them as he got lost in the blue of her eyes as she looked around. Then he cleared his throat. “Your room’s upstairs. Third door on the left.”

She grinned at him and shuffled toward the staircase. 

When she got upstairs, she dropped her duffel bag at the foot of the bed, then sat down. The old wood frame creaked slightly under her weight. 

The room was bigger than she expected with slanted ceilings and a window that overlooked the lake. Dust motes danced in the golden light that filtered through gauzy curtains, and the faint scent of cedar and old books lingered in the air.

She glanced around slowly, taking in the mismatched furniture: a sturdy wooden dresser, an antique desk that once belonged to her late grandparents, and a faded armchair in the corner, its fabric worn soft with time. It was the kind of space that felt both lived-in and forgotten, as if no one had been in here for a while, yet it had been waiting for her all this time.

Smiling to herself, she flopped down on the bed, stretching out and letting her fingers trail along the textured quilt. “This’ll work,” she whispered.

Unpacking could wait. She wanted to explore.

She kicked off her flip flops and padded down the hallway, poking her head into other rooms. One was clearly a storage space; another looked like it might’ve been a guest room at some point but had long since become a dumping ground for random junk. Downstairs, she let her fingers drift across old guitars propped against the walls, their wood worn smooth from years of playing. Miles had a hell of a collection.

A few framed photos sat on the fireplace mantle, half-obscured by dust. She recognized her parents in one, young and carefree, Miles and Bass on either side of them, all four of them grinning like the world belonged to them. Her late paternal grandparents were in a frame next to it. Another frame contained her and Danny’s 9th and 7th grade school photos. She shook her head and made a mental note to get Miles some updated photos of her and her brother.   

“Making yourself at home already?” Miles’s voice broke the quiet. 

She glanced over her shoulder and smirked. “Figured I might as well since you’re not gonna give me the grand tour. By the way, you’re not gonna make me sleep in the shed or anything, are you?”

“Tempting,” Miles chuckled, moving past her into the kitchen.

She followed, hopping up onto the counter, her long legs dangling as he pulled open the fridge. He shot her a look but didn’t tell her to get down. She grinned. Some things never changed.

“You got anything edible in there, or is it just beer and questionable leftovers?” she asked.

Miles raised an eyebrow and pulled out a package of steaks, tossing them onto the counter. “I’m not a total degenerate.”

“Debatable.”

He grabbed a cast iron skillet and set it on the stove. “You gonna sit there and keep running your mouth, or you gonna make yourself useful?”

“Fine, fine.” She held up her hands in mock surrender. “What do you need?”

He gestured toward a cabinet. “Plates. And see if there’s anything green in the fridge that hasn’t reached science experiment territory.”

She slid off the counter and rummaged through the fridge until she found a bag of mixed greens that looked mostly edible. “Well, would you look at that, Uncle Miles. A vegetable. I’m shook.”

“Ya know, that shed idea is starting to sound pretty good,” he said, shooting her a dry look as he seasoned the steaks. 

She smirked and started working on the salad.

As the kitchen filled with the rich scent of sizzling meat, Charlie leaned against the counter, arms crossed as she watched Miles work. He moved around the stove with the kind of quiet precision that came from years of doing things alone. There was a certain, subtle tension in his shoulders, and something about the way he stood – solid and absorbed, sleeves rolled carelessly to his elbows – that drew her eyes before she could stop herself. It was oddly calming, the rhythm of his movements, the low crackle of the pan, the way his brow furrowed like the food had personally offended him.

He had always been handsome, and he still was, but older and even more rugged than she remembered. He had one of those textured, lived-in kinds of faces that told a story without trying: high cheekbones, a strong nose, deep-set chocolate-colored eyes, and that signature scowl that never quite went away. The stubble along his jaw was peppered with gray now, rough and a little uneven, like he’d either forgotten or refused to care about shaving properly.

“So,” she eventually said, breaking the silence. “You didn’t come to my graduation.”

His hand hesitated just for a second before he flipped a steak. “I sent a gift.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “A bottle of bourbon. Very sentimental.”

Miles smirked. “You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes, then sighed. “I get it, though. Big crowds. Sappy emotional speeches. Not your thing.”

He glanced at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he turned back to the stove. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Another silence settled between them and Charlie let it sit for a beat before nudging him with her shoulder. “I did miss you, though. Even if you are a grumpy old bastard.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not that old, you little brat.”

Charlie smirked and shrugged.

They ate on the back porch as the sun set, the lake stretching out in front of them, bathed in the deep purples and oranges of twilight. Their conversation drifted easily: old memories, what they’d been up to since they last saw each other, Charlie’s current favorite movies and podcasts, and Miles’s half-hearted attempts to feign interest in them.

“You ever think about getting back into it?” she eventually asked, aiming for a nonchalant tone while she swirled the last of her wine in her glass.

He glanced at her. “Into what?”

“Music. The stage. The band. You know, being famous and adored by thousands of screaming fans.”

His expression grew a bit darker then, and he took a sip of his beer. “I think you’re overestimating how many people actually gave a shit.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “I don’t think I am.”

Miles held her gaze for a second before looking back at the lake. “That part of my life’s over.”

There was something really sad and definite about the way he said those words. Part of her immediately wanted to investigate it, but she knew better. Her uncle wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming when it came to his feelings and emotions. And pushing him – especially on her first night here – would only have disastrous results. So Charlie simply nodded and followed Miles’s gaze out toward the water.

The night stretched on, the air warm, and cicadas buzzed in the distance as a comfortable silence fell between them. Miles leaned back in his chair while Charlie pulled her legs up, curling into herself with a lazy sort of ease. 

“Thank you,” she said softly after a while.

He looked at her curiously. “For what?” 

“For letting me crash here for the summer.”

He nodded slowly and almost smiled. “You’re welcome, kid.”

Chapter Text

The morning was slow, the kind Miles preferred. The sky was soft with the first light of day, the lake smooth and glass-like, reflecting the pale hues of dawn. He sat on the porch, coffee in hand, watching the mist roll over the water. It was his ritual, this quiet moment before the world fully woke up, before the weight of the day settled onto his shoulders.

Except now, he wasn’t alone.

Charlie was still asleep upstairs, curled up in his space, her presence shifting something in the air around him. He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw. Last night had been… fine. Easy, even. But he’d caught himself looking at her too many times, mesmerized by her charm and the way she laughed, the way she filled up his space like she belonged here.

It was dangerous thinking. Stupid. She was his niece. His responsibility for the summer. That was it.

Miles took another slow sip of coffee, forcing himself to shake it off, but the feeling lingered.

The sound of footsteps padding across the wooden floor behind him broke his thoughts.

“Morning,” Charlie murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

Miles glanced over his shoulder.

And immediately regretted it.

She was standing in the doorway, sleep-rumpled and effortlessly sensuous in a pair of pajama shorts that barely covered anything and a cropped tank top that did nothing to hide the soft curve of her stomach. Her hair was piled high in a messy bun, several strands slipping free, framing her face.

He cleared his throat and turned back to his coffee. “You own real clothes, or is this some kind of test?”

She smirked, stepping further onto the porch. “What, you don’t like my outfit?”

He didn’t take the bait. “It’s a little too early for whatever stunt you’re trying to pull.”

She stretched, arms lifting high above her head, shirt lifting higher on her torso, and Miles swore he wasn’t looking.

But of course he was.

“I’m not trying to pull anything,” she yawned, plopping down next to him and taking his coffee cup from his hands without asking. She took a sip, her lips touching the exact spot his just had on the ceramic. Then she handed the mug back. “This is just how I look in the morning.”

That was the damn problem, he groaned internally.

He took a slow breath, willing himself to focus on something else. Anything else. “You hungry?”

She hummed, leaning back in her chair, tilting her face toward the sun. “Depends. You gonna cook for me?”

He rolled his eyes, pushing up from his seat. “Come on, princess. Let’s see if we can find something edible.”

Just as they stepped inside, they heard the sound of a truck rumbling up the driveway.

Miles groaned. “Oh, great.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

Before he could answer, the front door swung open, and Sebastian Monroe strode in like he owned the place. He held a paper bag in one hand and a fancy to-go coffee cup in the other.

“I come bearing gifts,” Bass announced. “Miles won’t feed you properly, so I figured I’d step in.”

“Bass!” Charlie squealed as she crossed the kitchen and pulled him into a hug. 

Miles grumbled something and watched as Bass handed her the coffee.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” he said, “so I guessed.”

Charlie took a sip and moaned dramatically. “Mmm…it’s perfect.”

Bass smirked at Miles. “See? I’m good at this.”

Miles rolled his eyes.

Bass handed her the bag and smiled fondly at her. “Got you a pastry, too, since Miles’s version of breakfast is whatever hasn’t expired yet.” Then he shamelessly dragged his eyes down the front of her body and back up to her face. “Damn, kid. You’re all grown up.”

She grinned, digging in. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Monroe.”

Miles scoffed. “You’ve been here for five minutes and you’re already spoiling her.”

“Damn right, I am,” Bass said, throwing an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “How was your first night with the old grouch? He treatin’ you okay?” 

“It was great. I took a self-guided tour of the house, and Miles made me steak for dinner.” Charlie leaned into Bass while Miles scowled.

“Well,” Bass drawled. “If you get bored here, my house isn’t far. I’ve only got one bed, but we could make that work.” He winked, making her giggle. 

Miles pointed at them both. “You two are already getting on my nerves.”

“Get used to it.” Charlie smirked and took another bite of her pastry.

Bass chuckled and removed his arm from around her, then clapped Miles on the shoulder. “Come on, grumpy. We’ve got work to do.”

Miles sighed and led the way to his home studio at the end of the hall.

– – –

The studio was a mess of cables, empty glasses with traces of whiskey in them, and stacks of recording equipment that had been gathered over decades. The walls were lined with guitars, each one with its own story, and a massive mixing desk dominated one side of the room. In this space, Miles was so much more than a grumpy recluse. He was alive, sharp, in his element.

The days of performing onstage were long behind him, but this place, this private little sanctuary that he’d built himself, still gave him purpose. Producing and mixing for other artists kept him connected to the world he'd once lived in – just from a safer, quieter distance. Making a career in music without ever leaving home would’ve been unimaginable once. But now it was his lifeline. This was how Miles stayed tethered. This was how he survived.

Bass was perched on a stool, idly strumming an old Gibson while Miles adjusted a mic stand. "You ever think about organizing this place?"

"And ruin my system?” Miles scoffed. “Not a chance."

"Yeah, 'cause tripping over a pedalboard every five minutes is a system." 

Miles didn’t respond and kept quietly setting up a microphone. 

Bass leaned against the mixing desk, watching him. "So," he drawled, smirking. "You’ve got a walking distraction parading around your house all summer. That gonna be a problem, or are you just gonna suffer in silence?"

Miles didn’t look up. “She’s my niece.”

“Uh-huh.”

Miles shot him a warning look.

But Bass just grinned. “I’m just saying, it’s been a long time since you’ve had someone shaking up your routine.”

“She’s just a kid.”

Bass snorted. “She’s twenty-two. Hardly a kid anymore.”

Miles tightened his grip on the mic stand, unwilling to take that any further. “Drop it, Bass.”

Bass held up his hands. “Okay, fine. But you should probably figure out how you’re gonna survive the summer.”

Miles exhaled sharply. “One day at a time.”

Bass leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

Miles ignored him, flipping a few switches and testing levels on the soundboard. "Alright, let's get to work. You remember the last take?"

"Yeah, I remember. You bitched about it for an hour."

"Because it sucked. Now let’s fix it."

Bass grinned, adjusting his guitar strap. "You know, you get real bossy when you're in work mode."

Miles smirked. "And you get real annoying when you're breathing."

Their brotherly jabs continued, but the moment they started playing, everything shifted. Bass laid down a smooth riff, easy and natural, while Miles listened, adjusting settings with the practiced touch of someone who had spent his life chasing the perfect sound. Then, he grabbed his own guitar, joining in with a lead line that curled around Bass’s rhythm, and the two of them fell into a groove that spoke of years of playing together, of shared instinct and history and understanding.

They worked for the next couple of hours, replaying sections, adjusting tempos, layering harmonies. Miles was meticulous, his gruff demeanor slipping away as he lost himself in the process. He wasn’t just producing music; he was shaping it, molding it into something that felt right.

Eventually, the growl of Bass's stomach interrupted their session. “Lunch time.” He grinned.

Miles rolled his eyes and took a sip from his coffee mug. "Way to interrupt the process."

"Yeah, well, some of us can’t survive off coffee and bad decisions," Bass chuckled. "Come on, let's go see if your freeloading house guest left us any food."

They headed into the kitchen, where Charlie was perched on the counter, barefoot, still in those damn shorts and tank top, flipping through her phone. She looked up as they entered and smiled. "Done making magic, boys?"

Bass smirked. "Miles was making magic. I was just keeping him humble."

Lunch was a battlefield of sarcasm and quick wit, with Charlie and Bass forming an immediate alliance against Miles.

"So, does he always scowl this much when he eats?" Charlie whispered loudly to Bass, smirking as she popped a grape into her mouth.

"Oh yeah." He nodded solemnly, taking a bite of his sandwich. "It's part of his process. If he's not brooding over his food, he's not really enjoying it."

Miles arched an eyebrow at them and set his beer down. "You two idiots know I can hear you, right?"

She grinned. "Yes, we are aware."

Bass stole a baby carrot from Charlie’s plate and took a bite. "It's good to see you’re picking up on the survival tactics fast, Charlotte. Ganging up on Miles is an art form. Takes skill, patience, and most importantly, an unshakable commitment to annoying the hell out of him."

She nodded as if taking mental notes. "Got it. Stay relentless. Never let up."

Miles exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You two are exhausting."

"And yet, here we are," Bass said, raising his drink in mock cheer. "Making your life more interesting. You're welcome."

Charlie giggled, nudging Miles with her foot under the table. "Come on, admit it. You’d be bored without us."

Miles gave her a look that was half-exasperation, half-something else he refused to name. "I was doing just fine before you two showed up."

"Sure, pal," Bass drawled. "Just fine."

As much as Miles refused to outwardly admit it, there was something easy about the moment. Something warm. It had been a long time since his house had felt this full, this alive.

Hours later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Bass slung his guitar case over his shoulder and headed toward the door. Charlie was stretched out on the couch, looking completely at ease as she flipped through a coffee table book about guitars that she’d gifted Miles a few Christmases ago. 

Bass smirked as he glanced between her and Miles. "You should take her out for dinner or something tonight. You know, show her the town."

Miles groaned. "She’s an adult. She can take herself out."

But the seed had been planted by Monroe, and Charlie caught on quickly. "Oh, I love that idea. C’mon, Uncle Miles, take me on a date."

Miles shot Bass a look that could’ve melted steel, but Bass just smiled wickedly and saluted at Miles on his way out the door. "Have fun."

After Bass left, Miles leaned back in his recliner, watching Charlie with narrowed eyes. "You seriously wanna go into town?"

She nodded, all wide-eyed innocence. “I mean, you did promise me a summer of fun."

“Uh, no. I believe that’s what you promised yourself when you decided to come stay with me. I don’t recall having much of a choice.” But even as he said the words, he got up and grabbed his keys. “We’re going somewhere casual. Don’t get any fancy ideas."

Charlie gave him that blinding smile of hers and hopped up from the couch. “I’ll go get dressed.” 

– – –

They ended up at a no-frills diner, the kind with faded vinyl booths and a waitress who called everyone ‘hon.’ The air smelled like burnt coffee and fried food. A neon sign flickered lazily in the window. The waitress, a woman in her late fifties with a pencil stuck behind her ear, approached with a notepad.

"What’ll it be, sweetheart?" she asked Charlie with a warm smile.

"A cheeseburger with extra pickles and a side of fries, please. Oh, and a chocolate milkshake."

“You got it.” The waitress chuckled and jotted down the order. "And you, grumpy?" She turned to Miles.

He rolled his eyes. "Steak and eggs. And a beer."

"Breakfast for dinner. Now we’re talking," the waitress said, scribbling down their orders before taking their menus and heading off.

Charlie leaned back in the booth, her expression easy, her body language open. Miles watched her as she stretched her arms above her head, entirely at ease, entirely comfortable in her own skin. There was something about the way she took up space - the way she just existed without apology – that got to him in ways he didn’t want to examine.

The waitress returned and dropped off Charlie’s milkshake and his beer.

"So," Charlie said, stirring her shake with a straw. "Should I ask what else there is to do in this town? Or are you too much of a hermit these days to know the answer?"

Miles smirked. "I get out."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Where?"

He sipped his beer. "The grocery store, the hardware store... sometimes the gas station."

"Wow. What a life,” she snorted. “No wonder Bass keeps showing up. You’d turn into a caveman if he didn’t check on you."

He shrugged. "I like my space."

"Yeah, yeah. So, what exactly do you do all day in your big ol’ lake house? Just sit on the porch, drink, and glare at the water?"

Miles licked his lips, ready to fire back a response. But before he could, their food arrived. 

Charlie wasted no time digging in, humming in satisfaction as she bit into her burger, the juices running down her hand. "Holy crap, this is good."

He watched her in amusement. "You always get this excited about food?"

"Yep.” She nodded and swallowed her bite. “Food is one of life’s greatest pleasures, and I enjoy all my pleasures fully."

The way she said that last part made him swallow a lustful groan that suddenly wanted to escape. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze down to his own plate. 

"So,” he said after a while, his tone cautiously detached. “You ended up with a Communications degree, huh? Last time I saw you, you seemed set on Molecular Biology. What happened there?”   

“Organic Chemistry happened.” She scrunched up her face in the most adorable way. “I realized pretty quickly that I was way better at words and stories than chemical equations and protein synthesis.”

“That makes two of us,” Miles chuckled. “Your mom must be thrilled.” 

“Oh yeah. Overjoyed.” She rolled her eyes. “A humanities degree. Clearly where the big bucks are.” 

"So what’s the plan now?"

Charlie shrugged, dipping a fry into her shake. "That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? My parents want me to go straight into a nice, stable job or grad school. But I just… kinda wanna kick back for a while, ya know? Maybe travel, experience the world a bit before I lock myself into some boring office job."

"You ever tell them that?"

There was the tiniest hint of hesitancy on her face, but she quickly shook it off. "Not in those exact words." She shrugged.

He nodded, watching her as she popped another fry into her mouth, carefree, unbothered, content. It hit him then. This girl loved life. Everything about her was vibrant, electric, and untamed in a way that made him both envious and wary.

In some ways, she reminded him of himself: a version of himself he’d put to bed long ago.

She caught him staring and arched an eyebrow. "What?"

He shook his head and took another sip of his beer. "Nothing. Just thinking about how my brother dearest is gonna have a stroke when he hears you’re taking off to go find yourself."

"Yeah, well, he’ll survive.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Maybe I’ll tell him it was your idea."

“The hell you will,” he warned, but he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice.

As she flashed him a grin, there was something in his chest that felt lighter than it should. 

– – – 

They stepped out of the diner into the warm night air, the scent of fried food lingering as they started walking down Main Street. The town was quiet at this hour, a handful of shops still lit up, the occasional passerby nodding in recognition at Miles. The street lamps cast a golden glow, stretching their shadows along the cracked pavement as they walked.

Charlie, still buzzing from the meal, tucked her hand into the crook of Miles’s elbow without hesitation. He stiffened for half a second before forcing himself to relax, her touch warm and casual against his arm.

"You full now?" He asked dryly, glancing at her with amusement.

"Very.” She gently squeezed his arm. “That was probably one of the best burgers I’ve ever had."

Miles huffed out a short laugh and shook his head at her enthusiasm. 

They strolled down the sidewalk, past old brick storefronts with their window displays darkened for the night. The rhythm of their footsteps against the pavement was slow and unhurried, the kind of easy pace that only came with small-town life. Miles wasn’t used to company on his late-night walks, but he had to admit: he didn’t hate it.

Charlie chatted easily, filling the silence with stories from college, funny encounters with professors, and the ridiculous antics of her roommates. Miles listened, letting himself be pulled into her world. He liked the way she talked. She was animated, expressive, and always added just the right amount of detail to bring a story to life.

As they turned a corner, the sound of live music drifted through the air: a bluesy guitar and the unmistakable rasp of a singer who’d had one too many whiskeys. Charlie perked up, scanning the street until she spotted the dive bar a few doors down. The windows glowed amber, laughter and conversation spilling out onto the street.

"Oh, we have to go in," she said, tugging on his arm. “C’mon.”

Miles groaned. "Uh, no. We really don’t."

But she was already steering him toward the door. 

As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by dim lighting, scuffed wooden floors, and a neon beer sign flickering above the bar. The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke lingered, even though smoking inside had been banned ages ago. The small stage near the back was occupied by a three-piece band, the guitarist hunched over his instrument, fingers working the strings with ease.

Heads turned in their direction. A few of the older regulars nodded in recognition at Miles, and a couple of women at the bar muttered something to each other.

"People are staring," Charlie murmured, amused.

"Small town. That’s kinda their thing."

"Oh my God, are you famous here? " she teased.

Miles scoffed. "Hardly."

Before Charlie could needle him further, the bartender, a beautiful Latina woman with black hair, warm brown eyes, and a confident expression, glanced up and smirked. "Well, look who finally decided to leave his cave."

"Nora," he greeted her.

Nora’s gaze flicked over to Charlie, taking her in with quick, assessing curiosity before grinning. "And you must be Charlie. Monroe mentioned you were crashing at Miles’s."

Charlie smiled, already charmed. "That’s me."

Nora arched an eyebrow at Miles. "You didn’t tell me your niece was this cute."

Miles groaned. "Don’t start."

Charlie laughed, sliding onto a barstool. "I like her."

"Smart girl." Nora winked. "What’cha drinking?"

Charlie stared up at the shelves of booze thoughtfully. "Whiskey sour."

Miles shot her a look. "Seriously?"

"What?” She sassed. “I have good taste."

Nora chuckled and started mixing the drink. Miles just shook his head before settling onto the stool next to Charlie. He was used to coming here with Bass, nursing a drink in relative peace. But with Charlie? The whole place felt different. Brighter somehow. More alive.

As the band finished their set, a man took the mic and announced an open mic session, inviting anyone up who wanted to play. Charlie’s eyes lit up instantly, and she elbowed Miles in the arm. "You should go up there."

Miles practically glared at her. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on ," she urged. "Just one song."

"Not happening."

Charlie pouted dramatically. "Killjoy."

She didn’t push after that, but Miles could tell by the look on her face that she was filing the idea away for later. He had a sinking feeling this wouldn’t be the last time she would try to get him on stage.

They stayed for another round, listening to the music and soaking in the atmosphere. Charlie and Nora chatted easily, hitting it off as if they’d known each other for years. Miles mostly listened, content to watch Charlie light up with every new song, every funny story Nora threw her way.

She was something else, this girl.

And as he watched her, sipping his beer in the dim glow of the bar, Miles knew one thing for sure. 

He was in trouble.

Chapter Text

The first heat wave of the summer hit hard and fast.

One particular afternoon, the sun hung high over the lake, casting shimmering light across the rippling water. The heat was oppressive, turning the air thick and heavy. It was the kind of afternoon that demanded stillness, shade, and an ice-cold drink.

Miles had just settled into his usual spot on the back porch, beer in hand, when the screen door banged open behind him.

“God, it’s hot,” Charlie moaned as she stepped outside. “You should really consider upgrading your A/C, Uncle Miles.”

“You gonna help pay my electric bill?” He grumped, barely looking her way.

That is, until he caught sight of her.

She was wearing a bright yellow bikini top, a tiny pair of frayed denim shorts slung low on her hips, and her sun-kissed skin was glistening in the heat. Her hair was loose and a little frizzy from the humidity, framing her face in slightly chaotic golden waves. She looked like summer incarnate: wild, bright, and entirely too much for his peace of mind.

He took a slow sip of his beer and forced himself to look back at the lake while the blood rushed straight to his crotch.

“I’m going swimming,” she announced, stretching her arms above her head.

“Really?” He snarked, keeping his gaze resolutely fixed on the water. “Here I was, thinking you were about to go ice fishing.” 

“You’re so weird,” she laughed, unfazed by his gruffness. 

He watched as she pranced down the dock and tossed her towel over the railing before stepping onto the edge. With an effortless dive, she cut through the surface and disappeared into the cool depths below.

Miles exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face.

A few minutes later, he heard the rumble of a familiar truck pulling into the driveway.

Bass strolled onto the porch, sunglasses on, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He glanced at Miles, then out toward the lake, where Charlie was floating lazily on her back. A slow grin spread across his face.

“Well, well,” he drawled, sinking into the chair next to Miles. “Looks like your summer’s getting real interesting.”

Miles took another sip of beer. “Shut up.”

Bass chuckled, watching Charlie for a moment before turning back to Miles. “So, what’s the deal? She just parades around here like that every day?”

Miles sighed. “She lives here, Bass. She’s not thinking about–” He stopped himself, unwilling to finish that sentence.

“Right. She just innocently walks around half-naked. Totally oblivious. Nothing to read into there.”

Miles shot him a warning look. “I swear to God–”

“Relax. Before you give yourself a brain aneurysm.” Bass rolled his eyes. “All I’m saying is, you’ve got yourself a situation.”

Miles grunted but didn’t argue.

Bass leaned back, stretching out his legs. “So listen, Connor’s coming into town next week.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Figured I’d have him stay a few days.” He paused briefly. “Maybe I’ll introduce him to Charlie.”

Miles kept his expression neutral, but something in his stomach twisted. “Connor?”

Bass, who knew how to read his best friend like a well-loved book, grinned. “Yeah. You remember… my son, your godson. Tall. Charming. Loved by all the ladies.”

Miles took another sip of beer, slow and measured. He didn’t say anything, but Bass could see the way his grip tightened around the bottle.

“I mean, she’s a catch,” Bass continued, entirely too entertained. “I bet they’d hit it off.”

Miles let out a sharp breath through his nose and didn’t say anything.

Out by the dock, Charlie climbed out of the lake, water streaming down her skin in rivulets as she reached for her towel.

Miles practically choked.

She didn’t even notice them watching. Didn’t think twice as she shook out her hair, towel slung casually over one shoulder, legs glistening, smiling at the sun like it had done her a personal favor. She was just being Charlie. Bright. Unfiltered. Innocent in all the ways that made him feel like a monster.

He knew he should look away. But he didn’t. And neither did Bass.

Bass whistled low. “Jesus, man.” 

“Don’t.”

“I mean, I get it.”

“Bass.”  

Miles could feel the anger pricking at his chest. But it wasn’t just Bass he was feeling angry at. It was himself.

Because somewhere in the mess of his skull, something had twisted – was still twisting – into a shape it shouldn’t. Into want. And the moment he admitted that, even just to himself, there was no coming back.

She’s a fucking kid, he tried to remind himself. And she’s your goddamn niece. You’re supposed to protect her, not fantasize about her like some sick creep who can’t tell the difference between love and lust and loneliness.

The self-loathing sat like a stone in his gut, heavy and familiar. He’d buried plenty of shit over the years. Pain, guilt, anger, memories. But this? This was gonna take a goddamn shovel and divine intervention.

Charlie dried off, shaking out her hair before making her way back toward them. She plopped down in a chair between them, stretching her legs out with an easy sigh.

“What are you two talking about?” she asked, wringing water from her hair.

“Oh, just our usual bullshit,” Bass replied. “And I was telling Miles that my son’s coming into town soon.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t think I’ve seen him since we were kids.”

“Well, he’s all grown up now. Just like you.” Bass laid out the breadcrumbs, letting his eyes trail down her damp body. “You two might get along.”

Charlie smiled. “That could be fun.”

Miles said nothing. Just sat there, jaw clenched, trying to figure out how to murder his best friend. And his best friend’s son. 

Because if Connor so much as breathed in Charlie’s direction, Miles didn’t trust himself to not lose his shit. 

After a few minutes, Bass stood up and stretched. “Well, I should get going. Hot date tonight.”

“Ooo.” Charlie waggled her eyebrows. “Anyone I know?”

“Probably. Small town and all.” Bass winked at her, then turned to Miles and clapped him on the shoulder. “Try not to kill yourself, huh?”

“I should kill you.” Miles grunted.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know,” Bass sighed, unbothered.  

He headed out, and Charlie turned to Miles, her expression expectant. “So. What’s our plan for tonight?”

“Good god,” Miles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, which suddenly ached. “Is this how it’s gonna be? I’m gonna have to entertain you every night?”

“Yup, that’s the deal,” she said without missing a beat. “You’re like my very own court jester. Do I get a juggling act tonight or just the usual grumbling?”

Miles gave her a long look, somewhere between exasperated and defeated. “I was thinking more along the lines of a one-man freak show. Featuring a guy who’s slowly losing his sanity.”

“Sounds fun!” She chirped. “Can I sell tickets?”

He groaned. “You’re such a brat, you know that?”

“Yeah… but you love me.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

He rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly the problem.”

As the sun dipped lower, they ordered a pizza and settled into the living room. Charlie sprawled out on the couch while Miles settled in his usual chair. She turned on some rom-com he’d never heard of, and for the life of him, he couldn’t pay attention to it, even when he tried. His focus kept drifting to her, to the way she laughed, the way her eyes lit up, and the way she curled into the cushions, utterly at ease in his space. Like this was home. 

The thought terrified him.

– – –

The next day, Miles was busy mowing his front lawn when Bass pulled up in his truck. They didn’t have any studio sessions scheduled today, but before Miles could ask what had brought Bass by, he watched as Charlie came skipping out of the house, dressed like she was ready for an outing, her expression even sunnier than usual.

“Alright, troublemaker, you ready to go?” Bass called out to her as he rolled down his window.

Charlie grinned. “Yup!”

Miles turned off the lawn mower and eyed them both suspiciously. "What’s this? Some kind of kidnapping?"

"Relax, Uncle Buzzkill,” Bass chuckled. “I just wanted to show her the finer sights of civilization."

Miles looked at Charlie. “Seriously? You made plans with this moron?”

"Don’t worry.” Charlie adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and flashed him a smile. "I’ll be back in one piece. And if for some strange reason, I’m not, you can kick Monroe’s ass."

Miles just grumbled and watched as she climbed into Bass’s truck. After they drove off, he stood there for a good long moment, staring at the empty driveway and feeling way too aware of the quiet that settled in her absence.

Then he sighed and fired up the lawn mower again.

– – – 

The drive from Miles’s house in Mineral Point to downtown Madison took just over an hour. Bass and Charlie chatted the entire way there. 

"So," Bass said, glancing at her. "You excited for a big day out with your favorite bad influence?"

“Hell yes. Miles is great and all, but let’s be real. I needed a break from all that brooding."

Bass laughed. "Yeah, he’s got that whole ‘hermit on a lake’ aesthetic down to an art form."

​​"He really does. It’s like… his default setting is cranky recluse." She leaned back in her seat, one leg tucked up. “Gotta love the guy, though. Even if he scowls more than he smiles.”

“Yeah, the chicks used to dig it. Back in the day. That whole silent, broody musician thing.” He shook his head. “I think they found him mysterious.” 

“That tracks.”

The conversation faded for a moment, the hum of the road filling the space. 

Then he spoke again, softer this time. “Thing about Miles is… he’s taken a few hard hits. Stuff that changed him.”

Charlie glanced over, brows tugging together. “You mean… like, his past? Before he moved out to Mineral Point?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Back when everything went sideways.”

She watched him for a second, curiosity flickering behind her eyes. “I never really got the full story. I mean, I know he used to be in a band with you. And I guess something happened with the label or… something?”

He gave a vague shrug, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Yeah… or something.”

She didn’t push, but Bass could feel her gaze on him as a quiet, gentle tension grew around them.

After a while, he sighed. “He doesn’t like talking about it. Not because he’s trying to be mysterious or whatever. Just… some wounds don’t scab over clean, ya know?”

She nodded, turning back to look out the window. “Yeah. I worry about him sometimes.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, reading her carefully. “You care about him.”

“Of course I do.” She frowned. “He’s my uncle.”

“No, I mean… you see him. The real him. That’s not something he lets happen easily.”

She gave a small shrug, but her silence spoke volumes.

He let the moment hang for a second before continuing. “Just be careful, okay? Miles has a lot of good in him, more than he gives himself credit for. But when he hurts, it’s deep. And quiet. And real easy to miss until it’s too late.”

“I know.” Her voice was gentle but steady.

“Then maybe you’re the first person who really does.”

She didn’t respond to that and stared out at their surroundings as the Madison skyline started to take shape on the horizon.

He reached over and turned down the volume on the radio. “And for the record? You make him lighter. Don’t let anyone – him included – make you think that doesn’t matter.”

Charlie blinked at him, surprised by the unexpected sincerity. Then she smiled, small but certain. “Thanks, Bass.”

He simply winked, then turned the radio back up.  

– – –

They spent the day wandering. They had lunch at a local café, strolled through little shops, and popped into an art gallery where Bass pretended to be far more cultured than he actually was. Charlie found herself laughing and enjoying every minute of it. Bass was a natural entertainer, always with a story, always with a quip, but there was also something steadier beneath it all. He wasn’t just Miles’s best friend; he was someone who really knew her uncle, someone who had been through hell and back with him.

Later, at some random brewery with exposed brick and Edison bulb lighting, they grabbed a drink and found a quiet table. Charlie swirled her beer thoughtfully before glancing at Bass.

"So, tell me straight. How much of a pain in the ass was I when I was a kid?"

Bass chuckled. “Oh, a total gremlin. But the cutest little gremlin. Always asking too many questions, trying to keep up with the adults. You used to follow me and Miles around like a lost puppy.” 

She smirked. “So, nothing’s changed.”

He pointed at her. “Exactly.” Then he tilted his head and studied her for a moment. 

She took a sip of her drink and narrowed her eyes. “What?” 

“You remind me of Miles, ya know. A younger, hotter, blonder version.”

She giggled. “How so?”

He chuckled. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was always intense, always overthinking things. But back when we were younger, before everything got messy, he had this… this spark to him. He could light up a room. And he still has it. He just doesn’t let people see it anymore.”

She traced the rim of her glass, thinking. “I wanna see it.”

His gaze sharpened slightly. “You might be the only person who could make that happen.”

– – –

By the time they pulled back up to the lake house, the sun was dipping low, casting everything in gold. Charlie hopped out of the truck and stretched before heading toward the house. Bass followed her inside.

They found Miles at the stove, flipping thick patties of ground beef in a cast iron skillet. The smell of frying meat and caramelizing onions filled the kitchen. On the counter sat a bowl of store bought potato salad and a spread of simple toppings for the burgers.

"Look at you, playing house," Bass teased, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Almost like a functional adult."

Miles gave him an unamused look. “You stayin’ for dinner or are you just here to criticize my stovetop technique?”

“Tempting,” Bass hummed. “But I’ve got a hot date to get to.” He nudged Charlie’s shoulder with his own. “Try not to terrorize him too much tonight, k?”

“But it’s so fun,” she fake-pouted.

Bass chuckled. “Bye, kid. See ya later, Miles.” 

“Bye, Monroe,” Charlie called after him as he headed for the door. “Have fun on your date!”

After Bass left, Miles turned to Charlie, eyes narrowed. "So. Where’d he take you?"

She plopped onto the counter, swinging her legs. "Oh, we had the best time. Walked through some art galleries, drank fancy lattes, talked about our feelings. And then we had a drink at a trendy brewery with totally pretentious names for their beers. You would’ve hated it."

Miles snorted. "Yeah, sounds terrible."

She teasingly raised her eyebrows. “Jealous?”

He gave her a flat look. “Not even a little.”

Or completely, his brain carped. 

Charlie slid off the counter with a chuckle and helped herself to a piece of bacon he'd crisped up for the burgers, munching as she peered into the bowl of potato salad. "Mmm. This dinner screams man who lives alone. ”

“Tomorrow, I’m making you eat cereal for dinner.” He plated the burgers without ceremony.

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You love me too much.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a tug at the corner of his mouth he didn’t bother hiding this time.

Chapter Text

For years, the lake house had always been still. Not just quiet, but still. A kind of peace that was the result of years of routine and solitude. Miles had arranged his life like a carefully balanced stack of cards. Predictable. Low-maintenance. No emotional messes. No interruptions.

Then Charlie had come breezing in like a goddamn summer storm.

One Tuesday morning, Miles found her in his kitchen dancing barefoot across the hardwood floors in a tiny pair of shorts and an oversized band tee (his, he was fairly certain). She had music playing through the speaker on her phone, and she was singing along, hips swaying, while she flipped pancakes and occasionally held the spatula up like a microphone.

Miles leaned in the doorway for a moment, simply watching her. The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting dappled gold across her legs. The lake shimmered beyond the glass like something out of a painting. And Charlie – wild, joyous, humming off-key – fit into the whole scene like she was born to be there. 

Like she belonged in his house, in his space. That was the part that scared the hell out of him.

"You’re gonna burn those," he warned more gruffly than he meant to as he walked toward the fridge. 

Charlie glanced over her shoulder and gave him one of her patented smiles. "Please. I’m an expert. You want one or not?"

"Depends.” Miles opened the fridge. “You poison them?"

She gasped, mock-offended. "You wound me, Uncle Miles. I would never poison you! Maybe lightly sedate, but never poison."

He snorted out a laugh and grabbed the orange juice. "Comforting."

She flipped a pancake with theatrical flair and slid it onto a plate. "Sit. Eat. Or glare judgmentally from the corner. Your choice."

He chose to sit. Mostly because that vantage point made it harder to stare at her legs.

They ate at the kitchen island, sunlight pouring in and music still playing low in the background. Charlie talked between bites about the books she was reading, a weird dream she had, and how she was thinking of painting one of the spare bedrooms.

"Why would you paint a room you don’t even sleep in?"

She shrugged. "Because it’s boring. This place needs more color. Don’t you ever get sick of all the beige and wood tones?"

"Excuse you. Beige is a classic."

"Beige is sad, Miles."

He opened his mouth to argue but then caught the teasing blue sparkle in her eyes and realized she was baiting him on purpose.

He took another bite of his breakfast instead.

Later, she sprawled out on the dock in a bikini and one of his flannels, reading a novel with her sunglasses slipping down her nose. Miles tried not to stare. He really did. But every time he walked by the window or stepped outside for something – bam. There she was. Taut tan skin and bare legs and that loose shirt that shouldn’t look that good on anyone.

She was so at home here. As if she’d always been a part of the place. She started bringing wildflowers in from the yard and put them in old mason jars. She rearranged his record shelf by genre and mood. She'd even started making coffee before he got up in the mornings, humming softly while she moved through the kitchen like she owned it.

And Miles let her.

Worse, he liked it.

One evening, he found her in the living room, curled up on the couch with her feet tucked under her and a throw blanket over her lap. The scent of lake air and sweet citrus from whatever candle she’d lit drifted lazily through the room.

He walked around the couch and sat down in his recliner. "You turnin’ into a house cat or something?"

She looked up over the rim of her wine glass. "What can I say? I like the vibes here."

"Yeah, well. Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned. “Summer will be over before ya know it." 

But even as he said the words, he wasn’t sure if it was her he was warning or himself.

She gave him a long look, the kind that was more knowing than playful. "I think you like having me here."

"I like waking up to my coffee already made. The rest is negotiable."

"Sure.” She smirked and took a sip of her wine. “That’s all it is."

He knew he was supposed to say something sarcastic. Something that put space back between them. Instead, he stared a little too long before catching himself and shifting back.

She smiled, slow and wicked, and Miles decided it was safer to go make himself a drink.

In the evening, they sat on the porch together as dusk fell, fireflies blinking in the tall grass and the sky painted in streaks of violet and blue. Charlie pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed, relishing the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

“I used to love this place when I was a kid,” she said. “I spent so many summers here when it was Grandma and Grandpa’s.”

Miles turned to look at her, observing the nostalgia in her eyes.

“There was this one Fourth of July. I think I was ten? Grandpa Ed let me and Danny help set up the fireworks. Totally supervised, obviously, but it still almost gave my parents a heart attack,” she laughed quietly. “And I wore these ridiculous star-shaped sunglasses the whole time and made everyone call me Captain Sparkle.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

“I remember asking Grandma Lorraine where you were,” she added, a little quieter. “I kept hoping you’d show up. But you didn’t.”

There wasn’t any accusation in her voice. Just a sense of honesty. And a little sadness.

Mies wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just said: “Pretty sure I spent that Fourth passed out in a van behind a music festival in ninety-degree heat.”

Charlie smiled faintly. “You were always somewhere else. I remember watching one of your music videos on someone’s phone and thinking, there’s Uncle Miles, but not really. Like you were… yours, but not ours.”

He felt the emotion in his throat and didn’t argue. It’s not like she was wrong.

"Why’d you really stop playing?" She asked after a while, her tone more serious than he was used to hearing but her features still soft.

He didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the water, jaw working, the muscle in his cheek flexing. The question wasn’t new, but hearing it from her somehow hit differently. Made him feel more exposed. 

“Didn’t like what it became,” he sighed after a while.

"What what became?"

He ran a hand through his hair. “The whole thing. The business. The pressure. The people. Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like mine.”

Charlie turned toward him, her eyes searching his face in the fading light. “You walked away from everything. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t,” he confessed. 

She was quiet for a moment, taking him in like she was reading between the lines. Like she always did.

“You know you’re allowed to come back to it, right?” She finally said. 

Miles took a slow breath and turned his gaze back to the water. “It’s not that simple.”

“But maybe it could be,” she offered gently. “If you let it?”

He didn’t reply. Just stared out at the lake, where the sky had gone deep indigo and the water reflected the moonlight. The silence between them stretched. It wasn’t exactly tense, but it was weighty.

Charlie leaned her head against the back of her chair. “One day, I’m gonna get the full story out of you.”

“Not if I’ve got anything to say about it,” he muttered, but the edge had softened.

“Challenge accepted.”

He turned to her and shook his head, a reluctant smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

After a few seconds, he nodded toward the house. “You paint that spare room, I’m making you clean out the shed.”

“Deal,” she shot right back. “But I get to pick the color.”

“Goddammit. It’s gonna be fuchsia, isn’t it,” he groaned while she giggled.

– – –

That night, Miles lay on his back in bed, arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. The house had gone quiet again. Charlie’s soft laughter was no longer drifting from the living room and the smell of her citrus candle had faded. But her words lingered:

You know you’re allowed to come back to it, right? 

He turned the words over and over in his mind. He didn’t know why they stuck. This wasn’t even the first time someone had said something like that to him. But this time, it somehow felt different. 

Maybe because it felt like she saw through him; through every single wall he’d spent years carefully building. Or maybe it was because she’d said it like it was a truth too obvious to ignore.

He exhaled and let his eyes drift shut. 

And once he was asleep, memories of a life he’d left behind ages ago invaded his dreams. 

*

The stage lights were blinding. Heat poured down from the overhead rig while a crowd of hundreds screamed like their lives depended on it. Miles’s fingers flew across the strings of his electric guitar, sweat slicking his neck as he moved with the rhythm of the music, the pounding of the drums, the bass line vibrating through the soles of his boots.

Bass was beside him, grinning like a lunatic as he leaned into his mic. The two of them had always had that seamless chemistry, feeding off each other’s energy, locking into a groove so tight it felt like telepathy.

The band – Heartland Static – had a cult following. Not stadium-level fame, but they were deeply loved by the people who packed out those mid-size venues in nearly every city they toured, from Chicago to Austin to Portland. The road was endless. The highs were euphoric. The music was magical. And off-stage? It was a blur of booze, late-night diners, fans slipping notes with numbers into their hands, and motel keys exchanged like promises.

*

Miles opened his eyes and blinked against the dark of his bedroom, the memory fading as quickly as it had arrived. He wasn’t that guy anymore. That version had been full of fire and noise and hope. Now, all that was left was smoke. And silence.

Until Charlie came along. 

Suddenly, the silence he’d built around himself didn’t feel safe the way it used to.

And that honestly terrified the fuck out of him.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Miles wandered into the kitchen to find Charlie already there. She was still in her pajama shorts and one of those damn cropped tanks she seemed to like so much. Her hair was a wild mess as she stood on her tiptoes and tried to reach the top shelf of the cupboard.

“You’re gonna fall and break something,” he muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“I’m nimble.” She waved him off, stretching a little further to reach for a jar of peanut butter.

“You’re a menace,” he grumped, aware of the fact that he was going to hell for letting his eyes wander down to her ass.

“A successful menace,” she strained, oblivious, as she triumphantly retrieved the jar and set it on the counter. Then she tossed him a banana from the nearby fruit basket. “Eat something. You’re crankier than usual.”

“That’s just my baseline.” Miles caught it midair and leaned against the counter. “You’re lucky I haven’t kicked you out yet.”

"Or you could just admit you love having me here," she fired back proudly, digging into the peanut butter with a spoon. “You know you wanna.”

She wasn’t wrong. But he kept his mouth shut and peeled the banana.

She made coffee for them both, then spontaneously decided she wanted to make cookies. Miles sat at the island, warily eyeing her as she tore up his kitchen in search of ingredients, mixing bowls, measuring cups, and a cookie sheet.

Before long, she had a dozen snickerdoodles baking in the oven.

A knock came on the front door around mid-morning, and Bass let himself in with his usual lack of ceremony.

"Mmm, smells like domestic bliss in here," he teased, inhaling dramatically. "Should I be concerned?"

Miles shot him a death stare.

Charlie, perched on the counter, raised her mug in greeting. “Morning, Monroe. I’m making cookies. Want coffee? We have a bit left.”

“Love you,” Bass said, already walking toward the pot.

The three of them chatted for a while before Bass fished out a postcard from his back pocket and handed it to Charlie.

“If you get sick of sitting at home with Oscar the Grouch, my band’s playing at The Hollow this Friday.” He turned to Miles. “You’re invited too.” 

Miles frowned. “You know I don’t do the crowd thing anymore.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that. You never come to my gigs anymore, Miles. Hurts my feelings.”

Charlie examined the postcard and took another sip of her coffee. “Don’t worry, Monroe. We’ll be there.”

Miles jerked his head in her direction, eyebrows raised. “ We? ”

She just smiled sweetly. “Yes, we . It'll be fun. Live a little, Miles.”

“God, I like her.” Bass beamed.

Miles groaned. “You’re both exhausting.”

“You should consider keeping her around,” Bass added. “She’s the only one capable of dragging you out of this cave.” He turned to Charlie and gave her a shit-eating grin. “You’re something special, kid.”

Charlie flipped her hair theatrically. “Tell me something I didn’t know.”

Miles rolled his eyes and muttered something about regretting all his life choices.

Bass was right, though. She was something special. Real special.

– – – 

As the week went on, the lake house settled into a rhythm. Except it wasn’t Miles’s rhythm anymore. It was Charlie’s. She continued to move through his space like a tornado of joy, adding color to the beige and warmth to the solitude. It was as if the house itself had started waking up, stretching out after a long hibernation. 

One afternoon, he came in from doing some yard work and found that she had taken over the living room, sprawled out on the couch with a book while music played softly from the record player. A half-finished puzzle she’d gotten bored with a few days ago now lived on his coffee table.

He found himself leaning in the doorway, simply watching her. Again.

She looked too damn cute and comfortable, and it was really starting to get under his skin.

“Something on your mind, Uncle Miles?” She asked without looking up from her reading.

He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling defensive. “Yeah. Just wondering how you manage to make a mess in every room you walk into.”

“It’s a gift.” 

He shook his head and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. But he’d barely taken a sip before he heard the familiar thumping of her feet as she bounced in after him, hopping up onto the counter like always.

“What now?” He asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

She kicked her legs. “Just keeping you company. I know how much you love it.”

He huffed out a breath. “Love’s a strong word.”  

That evening, the house buzzed with activity as they got ready to go out. 

(Well, Charlie was buzzing. Miles was dragging his feet.)

“Come on, Miles, hurry up!” She called from the guest bathroom, where she was putting on her makeup.

Miles, dressed in a faded pair of utility pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt that had been through way too many wash cycles, wandered over and leaned against the doorframe. “You’re the one still doing whatever the hell this is.” He gestured vaguely. “I’ve been ready for an hour.”

She turned, eyes scanning him critically. “Um, no. Absolutely not.”

“What?” He scowled. 

She planted her hands on her hips. “You are not going to Monroe’s gig looking like that. You’re going to a rock show, not an oil change.”

“Jesus. Fine.” He exhaled through his nose and stormed back to his room. 

She smirked and grabbed a tube of red lipstick from her makeup bag.

Miles re-emerged several minutes later in a dark gray Henley under a black leather jacket, paired with dark-wash jeans that actually fit him right, and his worn-in leather boots. 

Charlie, who had finished her makeup and changed her outfit in the meantime, gave an approving nod. “Mm… now that’s more like it. See? Now we match.”

While she was checking him out, he was doing the same. 

(Though less boldly and with significantly more internal suffering; because apparently he was now the kind of bastard who spent his Friday nights ogling his niece and wondering when exactly he’d sold his soul.) 

Her hair was curled, her eyeliner smoky, lips a sharp red that made his mouth go dry. She wore a short black skirt that clung to her hips, a cropped top that bared just enough to short-circuit his brain, and a fitted faux leather jacket that gave her a kind of vintage rebellion. Like some grunge-era heartbreaker who didn’t even know the damage she could do.

She was stunning. And he was in silent agony.

“What?” She practically taunted when she caught him staring. “Cat got your tongue?”

Miles cleared his throat, forcing a tone of indifference into his response. “You look… dressed.”

“Seriously?” She burst out laughing. “That’s all I get?”

“Fine. Jesus.” He rubbed the back of his neck, ears burning. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” She grinned, all teeth, completely pleased with herself. Then she looped her arm through his and pulled him toward the staircase. “Ready for our date night?”

“This is not a date,” he groaned. 

“Eh, semantics,” she giggled and led him downstairs.

– – – 

The Hollow was already alive and pulsing by the time they arrived. Neon signs cast a low glow over the parking lot and the bass-heavy music playing through the venue’s house speakers made the walls vibrate. The old brick building had been a staple of the local scene for years: sticky floors, mismatched tables, and a too-small stage that local musicians both loved and hated. 

As soon as Miles and Charlie stepped through the door, the chatter shifted. Heads turned. Conversations stuttered. Miles felt their stares like heat on his neck.

Charlie looped her arm through his and tugged him closer in a move that was both protective and flirty, her cherry red lips grazing the shell of his ear. "People are staring."

“Yeah,” Miles grumbled. “This is why I wanted to stay home."

She flashed a bold, dazzling smile at a couple of women who were suspiciously watching, and that only made their whispers louder. 

The town knew Miles Matheson: gruff, reclusive, emotionally unavailable. No one in Mineral Point had ever seen him stroll into a bar with a beautiful girl half his age hanging off his arm, all smudged eyeliner, red lipstick, and too much leg.

Charlie wasn’t just there with him. She wanted to be seen with him.

Miles, meanwhile, wanted to disappear.

They made their way to the bar, and she ordered something fruity while he stuck with whiskey. Then she dragged him to a corner booth with a clear view of the stage but safely out of the way of the press of bodies forming near the front.

He sat with his back to the wall, scanning the room out of habit. She slid in beside him, pressed in close, all warm and soft and entirely unaware (or perhaps too aware) of what she was doing to him.

"Comfortable?" He asked dryly.

Charlie smiled and sipped her drink. "Very."

Before he could say more, Nora walked up, arms crossed and brow arched. “Damn it, I just lost twenty bucks to Bass. Thanks a lot, Miles. Didn’t think you’d actually show."

Miles rolled his eyes. "I get out."

"Yeah, once every presidential term, maybe," she teased before turning her attention to Charlie. “Nice work, though. I’m actually impressed.”

Charlie leaned into Miles, head resting lightly against his shoulder. "You’re welcome."

He fought the urge to shift toward her but quickly lost the battle when Charlie scooted even closer.

Nora made herself at home at their table, sliding in on the other side of Miles. She watched them with keen interest, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t say anything, but her expression said enough. 

Miles knew that look. She was clocking everything. And he hated how right she probably was.

The lights dimmed, the crowd pressed forward, and then Bass and his band took the stage. The first chord hit, loud and textured, followed by a cheer that rippled through the room. As soon as the music kicked in – a gritty, blues-infused rock groove that rolled like thunder – Charlie lit up.

She hollered and clapped and bounced a little in her seat, her whole body moving with the rhythm. Her shoulders swayed and her lips mouthed lyrics that she didn’t even know. Miles tried to watch the stage, but his eyes kept getting pulled sideways, drawn back to the way she threw her head back when the drums kicked in, the way her fingers tapped against her glass, the curve of her mouth when she smiled. 

This girl didn’t just enjoy things. She devoured them.

He couldn’t look away. 

He told himself it was just the music, the energy, the heat of the room. But some small, cruel, and honest part of him knew better.

After a while, Nora gently nudged him. "You’re staring."

"No, I’m not."

"You really are."

"Shut up," he brooded, then took a long drink. 

The music built and crashed over them, and Charlie rode the wave like it was her own personal current. Miles remembered that feeling. The pulse of the crowd, the way music could dig under your skin and make you feel alive. He hadn’t felt it in years.

Until now.

The show ended and the crowd eventually thinned. The house lights came up and the bartenders started wiping down counters and flipping chairs. Most of the audience filtered out into the night, but Miles, Charlie, and Nora lingered at their booth, drinks in hand.

Bass finally swaggered over, sweaty and flushed, his shirt clinging to him. He flopped into the seat across from Nora and exhaled dramatically. "God, I’m amazing."

Charlie raised her glass. "You killed it! Congratulations!"

Bass pointed at her. "You. Are. My. Favorite. And you." He snapped his fingers at Miles. "You owe this girl a damn parade for dragging you out of the crypt."

Miles grunted, but Bass’s words landed hard. He didn’t need the reminder that Charlie was everything bright and electric. While he was just the old ghost she’d accidentally resurrected. 

"She tricked me," he spat out pathetically.

"I’m very persuasive." Charlie shrugged smugly. 

“Clearly.” Bass grinned. “Keep her around, Miles. She might actually make a human being out of you.”

Nora sipped her drink. “I give it another week before she paints a mural in Miles’s living room and starts hosting bonfire nights.”

"Already thinking about it," Charlie said brightly.

Miles groaned, but he was smiling against the rim of his glass.

The booth was warm with laughter and camaraderie, the air still humming from the music. And through it all, Miles kept finding his eyes drawn back to Charlie. The way her eyes sparkled under the dim lights, the way she leaned into the table like every moment was a secret shared, and the way she simply existed.

He didn’t know what the hell was happening.

But he knew it was already too late to stop it.

Chapter Text

The sound of feminine laughter, bright and unrestrained, echoed throughout the lake house. The guys were deep in their creative zone in the studio, the sound of their electric guitars faintly seeping through the sound-treated walls and door. 

Which meant that tonight, the rest of the lake house belonged to Charlie and Nora.

Girls’ Night In had officially commenced.

Charlie sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room, a bottle of wine open between her and Nora. The coffee table was littered with bottles of nail polish, face masks, and snacks: churros, chips, popcorn dusted with tajin, and a bowl of fresh guacamole Nora had insisted on making herself. 90s Latin pop quietly played from the speakers, filling the room with a warm, colorful energy.

“I’m telling you,” Nora laughed as she dipped a chip in her signature guac. “You haven’t lived until you’ve danced to Ricky Martin in the middle of your kitchen in your underwear with a broom as your microphone.”

“You’re way more fun than Miles made you sound,” Charlie giggled, cheeks warm from the wine.

Nora rolled her eyes dramatically. “Miles would make a sunrise sound depressing. Don’t listen to him.”

They clinked glasses, and Charlie leaned back against the couch, relaxed and glowing.

“Okay, but seriously,” Charlie wondered. “How did you even end up in this town? You don’t exactly scream ‘Midwestern small town girl.’”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Nora smirked. “I actually grew up in San Antonio. My family’s Puerto Rican, third generation. Loud house, good food, too many cousins. I miss it sometimes.”

Charlie’s eyes sparkled. “What brought you here?”

“Bass and Miles, actually. I met them years ago when their band played in Austin. I was bartending at this dive, trying to figure out what I wanted in life. Bass hit on me shamelessly; he was terrible . But it was Miles who caught me off guard. Quiet. Brooding. Real…  eyes-like-storm-clouds energy.”

Charlie blushed and listened without comment.

Nora smiled. “Anyway, they played their set and something just clicked. I ended up hanging with them for the rest of their Texas tour, and we kept in touch after that. Years later, Bass called and asked if I wanted to come up and help run sound for his new project. I didn’t know the first thing about running live sound, but I figured… how hard could it be to learn? If all these mediocre dudes could do it, I could too, right?”

Charlie laughed. “So you just said yes?”

“Yeah. I needed a change. Didn’t really think I’d stay. But… here we are. Plus…” A certain fondness settled over Nora’s features. “Miles was here. Eventually, I picked up bartending again and made a little life out here. Don’t get me wrong, this town’s got its quirks. It’s white as hell and sometimes people look at me like I dropped out of the sky. But… I’ve found my people. Miles, Bass... and now you.”

Charlie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “I know I haven’t known you for very long, but you’re kinda like the big sister I never had.”

“Damn right, I am.” Nora winked. “And as your older, wiser, extremely hot big sister, I need to ask – what’s going on with your love life?”

Charlie groaned and fell back onto the carpet. “Do we have to?”

“Yes,” Nora said, refilling their glasses. “Spill.”

Charlie sighed. “Well, there’s not much to tell, really. At the moment, I’m flying solo. But I broke up with Jeff last year.”

“Who’s Jeff...?”

“Ugh. Jeff. I thought he was super hot. Business major. Ambitious. Totally charming for the first few months that we were together. But then he discovered those shitty alpha male red pill podcasts and tried to practice what he was ‘learning’ in our relationship.” Charlie shuddered at the memory.

Nora’s mouth fell open in disgust. “Um… Yikes .”

“Yeah.” Charlie shook her head. “He didn’t like that I wanted to travel. Or, ya know, have opinions. So I dumped him.”

“Hell yeah you did!” Nora reached over and clinked her wine glass against Charlie’s. “Good for you. You deserve so much better.” 

“Thanks, I think so, too.” Charlie smiled. “Honestly, though, I’m not in any hurry. This gives me time to figure out what I want and who I want.”

“Which is… what? What do you feel like you want?”

Charlie swirled her wine, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. “I’m not sure yet. But I think I want someone who challenges me. Who’s not afraid of me being a lot. Someone... steady but not boring. Maybe even someone with a little more life experience.”

“Uh-huh.” Nora tilted her head. “Anyone in mind?”

“No, not at the moment.” Charlie looked away, feigning nonchalance as she took another sip of wine. “Anyway, enough about me. Let’s hear some of your stories. Worst date ever?” 

Nora was about to answer but then a guitar riff rang out from the studio, followed by Bass’s voice yelling something indecipherable, then Miles grumbling in response.

Charlie bit back a smile as her gaze fondly drifted toward the sound. 

Nora caught the look. “Well, before I tell you about my worst date, I have one more question for you. What made you want to come and stay with Miles all summer?” 

Charlie released a weighty sigh. “My parents wanted me to come home to Chicago immediately after graduation. Start job hunting, keep things ‘on track.’” She made finger quotes. “But that felt like… I don’t know. Like getting shoved into a lane I wasn’t quite ready for. And I missed this place.”

Nora smiled softly and listened.

Charlie glanced around the room as if seeing it with younger eyes. “This house used to belong to my grandparents. My dad and Miles grew up here. I’d come visit my Grandma Lorraine and Grandpa Ed in the summers. Hang out at the lake, eat too many popsicles. It always felt kind of magical. Like this pocket of calm that didn’t exist anywhere else. And…” She hesitated for half a second. “I missed Miles.” 

“And?” Nora asked, expression unreadable. “What do you think now? Has it all lived up to your childhood memories?” 

Charlie smiled and nodded. “It’s even better than I remember. I love how quiet it is. I can hear myself think here.” 

Her gaze flicked over to the hall once more for the briefest second, but Nora, as usual, was incredibly perceptive. 

Nora’s eyes twinkled as she reached for the popcorn. “Well,” she said casually. “I’m just glad Miles hasn’t completely scared you off. He’s not exactly a low-maintenance roommate.”

“Understatement of the year,” Charlie snorted, picking up her wine glass again. 

“But I gotta say, you’re handling him like a pro. Not everyone knows how to keep up with Miles Matheson.” Nora popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, then added, just a touch too innocently: “And not everyone makes him less grumpy, either.”

Charlie froze mid-sip for half a second. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just an observation,” Nora replied cheekily. “Although now you’ve got me curious: Should it mean something?”

Charlie rolled her eyes, her cheeks warm as she finished her sip. “I think you, Nora Clayton, are trouble.”

“Absolutely,” Nora replied proudly, leaning back on her elbows. “But so are you. That’s why I like you.”

They both giggled, the sound bubbling up and spilling into the quiet corners of the house. Charlie didn’t say anything else, but she could feel Nora’s knowing gaze lingering, an unspoken acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t quite as subtle as she thought.

After a while, Charlie asked: “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Oh, honey,” Nora chuckled. “With the amount of wine we’ve had, I was expecting one.”

Charlie smiled, but this time there was a bit of coyness in her expression. “You obviously still really care about Miles. So how come you two aren’t…”

“Together?”

“Yeah.”

Nora stared into her glass for a bit, swirling what little wine was left. “That’s a good question.”

Charlie quietly waited, sensing this was the kind of answer that needed time.

“We were never really... together together. Ya know? It wasn’t some grand romance. It was messy. Quiet. Off and on, mostly just us being there for each other whenever the other one was at their lowest. We didn’t talk about what it was while we were in it. And by the time we maybe could’ve…” Nora’s eyes had a faraway look in them. Then she shook her head, like she was shaking away cobwebs. “Well, let’s just say… it was too late.”

Charlie frowned. “Why do you think it was too late?”

“Because he pulled away. Shut down.” Nora’s voice softened but there was a tiny edge of bitterness there. “That man builds walls like he’s a construction worker. And back then? He was hurting in ways I didn’t know how to reach. I tried. But eventually, I had to stop bleeding for someone who wouldn’t stop hiding.”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in.

“But you’re right, Charlie. I do care about him. I probably always will. But that doesn’t mean we were meant to end up together. Some people are chapters, not endings.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “Still... that kind of history has to be hard to leave behind.”

“It was,” Nora said honestly. “But Miles needs someone who doesn’t just accept the way he is. He needs someone who can push him to be better for himself. I figured out a while ago that I wasn’t that person.”

As Nora’s words settled, a part of Charlie wondered if Miles even believed he deserved that kind of person. If maybe some part of him had stopped hoping a long time ago.

But before she could spiral too far down that road, she caught herself and attempted to redirect the conversation to a lighter place. “Damn, so what you’re saying is… you could’ve been my really cool aunt?” 

Nora let out a sharp, resonant laugh. “Oh my god, can you imagine?” She shook her head. “But hey, I really am digging the big sis thing. That I can do.”

Charlie grinned. “I’ll take it.”

“Deal.” Nora nodded definitely, then reached for the face masks. “Now, pick your poison. Detox or radiance?”

– – –

Hours later, the studio door finally creaked open and Bass emerged first, stretching with a groan. "Jesus, I think my spine fused to that stool."

Miles followed behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. They wandered into the living room. 

Then stopped short.

Charlie lay sprawled on the rug, her head resting comfortably on Nora’s stomach, both women giggling softly at something on Charlie’s phone while Nora ran her fingers through Charlie’s golden locks.

Bass blinked. "Alright, well, this looks like the intro of a lesbian porno."

Without missing a beat, Charlie grabbed a half-eaten churro and chucked it at his face.

"Don’t be a perv." Nora tossed a chip for good measure.

Bass ducked and grinned. "What? I’m just calling it like I see it."

Meanwhile, Miles stood frozen at the edge of the room, watching them. The image was almost surreal: two gorgeous, vibrant women blissfully lounging in his living room, lighting up his house with their soft, vivacious energy. Nora looked more relaxed than he’d seen her in ages, and Charlie? Charlie looked like the missing piece that made the whole damn place finally make sense.

Suddenly, he felt like a trespasser in his own home. 

He cleared his throat before that thought could fully take root. 

"What kind of trouble have you two been up to tonight?" He asked with his usual indifference.

Nora smirked, brushing crumbs off her shirt. "Just a little wine, a lot of truth, and possibly a plan to redecorate your entire house."

"And snacks,” Charlie added. “Can’t plot a hostile takeover without snacks."

Bass raised an eyebrow at Miles. "We leave them alone for one night and they’re already staging a coup."

"We’re not staging," Nora corrected. "We’re succeeding."

Miles shifted, fidgeting with the seam of his shirt. "Well. Great. As long as I still have somewhere to sleep."

Charlie tilted her head up from Nora’s abs and gave him a teasing smile. "There’s always your shed."

“Perfect. Always wanted a view of the compost bin.” He rolled his eyes.

Bass chuckled and clapped a hand on Miles’s shoulder. "Come on, brother. Let’s give the queens their space. Besides, I need a smoke."

Miles hesitated for a moment but ultimately followed Bass out to the porch, glancing one last time at the women who had somehow taken over his house. And maybe something else, too.

Chapter Text

The morning sunshine spilled through the kitchen windows, casting warm light across the worn floorboards. Charlie stood at the stove in one of Miles’s flannels that she took without asking, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, theatrically narrating to herself like she was a cooking show host while she made scrambled eggs.

Miles sat at the island with a mug of coffee, watching her with thinly veiled amusement. “You burn that, I’m not eating it.”

Charlie glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “I’d let you starve before I admit I messed up breakfast.”

“Spoken like a true Matheson,” he chuckled, sipping his coffee.

She had just turned the stove off and finished plating the eggs when her phone started to buzz on the counter. As soon as she saw who it was, her sunny disposition vanished.

Miles watched her smile drop and raised an eyebrow. “Lemme guess. The parental units?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “They weren’t exactly thrilled when I told them I was spending the summer here. But if I don’t answer, they’ll think you’ve lured me into some cult or something.”

“Well, I am pretty damn charismatic,” he offered, half trying to cheer her up, half trying to drown out the voice in his own head that was already muttering:

Hard to blame ’em. If she were mine, I wouldn’t want her around me either.   

Usually, she laughed at his jokes. This time, she didn’t. Which made him feel even worse. 

He watched as she swiped to answer the video call. 

“Hi, Mom… Dad.” She forced a smile onto her face.

Ben and Rachel appeared on the screen together, looking far too composed in their pristine kitchen. Rachel’s hair was perfectly smooth. Ben’s button-down was clean and freshly pressed.

“Morning, sweetie,” Rachel said in a voice that was somehow both good-natured and stoic.

“Hey, kiddo. We just wanted to check in,” Ben added. “How’s the... break going?”

Charlie shifted. “It’s fine. Peaceful. Quiet. Miles hasn’t murdered me yet.”

“Tempted,” Miles snarked from his spot, loud enough for Ben and Rachel to hear.

Neither of them acknowledged him.

Ben’s expression pinched. “Listen… Charlie... Your mom and I have been talking, and we just want to make sure you’re not losing momentum. The job market’s not exactly great right now, and the longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to find something you feel good about.”

“I know that,” Charlie replied carefully. “But… I need time to think.”

Rachel stepped in gently. “We’re not trying to pressure you, honey. But a gap like this could close doors. We just don’t want to see you go through that.”

Then came the stats: unemployment rates, hiring slowdowns, how competitive it was out there. The kind of speech Charlie had heard a hundred times from her mom, rehearsed to sound helpful but threaded with suffocating expectation. 

“You’ve worked so hard, Charlie,” Ben added, driving the point home. “You have so much potential. You don’t want to get... derailed.”

Miles, who’d been sitting there listening, stood and crossed the kitchen. “She’s not derailing, Ben,” he told his brother as he stepped behind Charlie, gently placing a hand on her shoulder as he leaned down to be in frame. “She’s just regrouping.”

Ben stared at him. “And I suppose you’re the expert on productive life choices now?”

“Nope.” Miles didn’t take the bait. “But I know burnout when I see it. And I know this girl deserves a damn breath before she breaks herself trying to meet someone else’s idea of success.”

Across the screen, Ben and Rachel fell silent. Rachel’s mouth pressed into a line, even though her eyes didn’t quite match the firmness of her expression.

Charlie sensed a fight winding up, so she cut in. “Guys. I’m okay. I promise. Just give me the summer, okay? I’ll figure things out. I promise.”

Ben hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he nodded. “Alright. But we expect regular check-ins. No disappearing acts.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Rachel smiled faintly. “We love you, Charlie.”

“Love you, too.” Charlie ended the call. Then exhaled sharply. “I hate how they make everything feel like a damn deadline.”

That’s because they think you’re a fucking product. Something to shape, polish, and ship off.  

Miles wanted to say the thought out loud, but he didn’t. Because he wasn’t entirely sure it was about her. So he just stood behind her, offering her his steady, silent presence while she sorted through her thoughts.

She leaned against the counter. “They think I’m wasting time.”

“You’re not,” he reminded her. “But honestly, even if you were... so what? Time’s not some fucking debt we owe to anyone.”

Something broke in his voice, a rough undercurrent that he didn’t bother to hide this time.

Charlie noticed but didn’t push.

Instead, she smiled and gave him a nudge on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s eat these cold scrambled eggs, courtesy of Ben and Rachel Matheson. And I believe we’ve got a room to paint.”

“Great,” Miles muttered and accepted the plate she offered him.

– – – 

The spare bedroom smelled like dust and paint fumes. They turned on some music, opened up the window to let the lake breeze in, and got to work. Charlie had chosen a soft, earthy green, and the color brought the room to life as they painted in tandem, Miles methodically, Charlie chaotically.

Paint ended up in places it absolutely should not have: on her cheek, in her hair, smudged on the hem of his flannel. Her laughter filled the space like a melody.

Miles said very little, but he kept watching her. Every time she danced across the tarp in bare feet, every time she laughed at nothing, something pulled taut inside him.

He looked away several times and tried to stay on task.

She caught him at one point, roller in hand. “You keep looking at me like I’m an alien.”

“That’s because you’re painting like you’re field-stripping a musket blindfolded.”

Her face scrunched up in mock confusion. “I have no idea what that means, Uncle Old-Enough-To-Have-Fought-In-The-Revolutionary-War.”

“You little shit,” he growled, and before he could stop himself, he retaliated by swiping a streak of green paint across her collarbone.

“Hey! That’s assault!” She shrieked.

“File a complaint,” he grunted, already regretting how good she looked with paint on her skin and mischief in her eyes.

Charlie narrowed her eyes, dipped two fingers into the tray, and dragged a bold smear of paint across his jawline like war paint. “Consider it filed.”

Miles groaned and wiped his jaw with a rag, shaking his head. “You were put on this earth to test my patience.”

“Uh-huh.” She blew him a kiss over her shoulder. “And I’m very good at my job.”

He shook his head and turned back to the wall, even as something warm and dangerous twisted low in his gut.

The sun shifted across the floorboards. The music played on. They painted. Not just the room, but something else: a certain harmony between them.

Near the end, Charlie sat on the floor and looked up at him. Something soft and vulnerable flashed across her paint-smeared features. 

“Thanks, Uncle Miles,” she eventually said, her voice holding a shyness that was rare for her. “For not making me feel stupid earlier with my parents.”

Miles looked away again, pretending to busy himself with their used brushes and paint trays. “You’re welcome. And for the record, you’re not stupid. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you are, k?”

For once, she didn’t say anything, but from his periphery, he saw her nod.

– – –

The storm came out of nowhere. A crack of thunder, a flash of light, and then the sky opened. Rain lashed the lake like an army of needles while wind screamed through the trees.

The power flickered, and then it went out.

Charlie stood on the porch, soaked and untroubled, her face turned toward the storm like it was a gift from the sky. 

Miles joined her with a lantern and a scowl. “Power’s down.”

But that news evidently wasn’t enough to dim her light. She just beamed. “I love storms.”

He sighed. “Of course you do.”

They made cheese on toast on the camping stove that he dug out from the garage and ate it with canned tomato soup on the porch while rain battered the world around them. Later, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by candlelight in the living room, Charlie did the thing he knew she eventually would.

She begged for music.

“Come on. Just one song,” she pleaded. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Nope.”

“Pleeeaaaase?”

“No. Not happening.”

“But you play for Bass all the time,” she pouted. “Why is this any different?”

“It is different. That’s work. This is… not.”

He tried every fucking trick he knew to refuse her. All the usual ones. The ones that worked with everyone else. 

But ten minutes later, there he was, on the couch, guitar in his lap, fingers finding the chords as muscle memory kicked in. He played “Wildflowers” by Tom Petty, and Charlie listened in reverent silence, curled up like a cat across from him.

When the song ended, she exhaled slowly, like she was trying not to break some spell. “Uncle Miles,” she whispered, candle fire dancing in her eyes. “You’re so good. Like really, really good.”

Miles didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because he could feel it again, rising like a slow, cold tide: 

That sick, hollow ache of knowing he still had something to give, but no one to give it to. Not safely. Not without wrecking everything.

But this sweet girl couldn’t see the storm inside him. Or maybe she could.

Somehow, that made the ache in his chest even stronger.

She rose from her spot on the floor and padded over to the couch, then nudged her way under his arm.

And in that moment, something quietly broke inside of him.

– – –

She read to him. Snuggled up beside him like it meant nothing, her voice soft and steady as she murmured the words from a Stephen King novella.

Eventually, she fell asleep, the paperback slipping from her hand and landing gently on the rug.

Her head rested against his chest while her hand somehow found its way to his thigh – light, innocent, lethal.

And he let it stay.

He told himself it was fine. That she was asleep. That he hadn’t done anything wrong.

But then she shifted closer and the guilt hit. Hard and familiar and sharp.

He hated himself for noticing the weight of her, her warmth, the sweet smell of her hair. His fingers itched, wanting to hold her a little tighter, a little longer.

What the fuck are you doing? the voice inside him snarled. She’s your niece. She’s asleep on your chest, and you’re sitting here catching feelings like a goddamn fool.

Miles stood abruptly, the motion dislodging Charlie.

She startled awake and tried to reorient her groggy, confused brain.

“C’mon, kid,” he said gruffly. “Time for bed.”

He didn’t wait for her as he blew out the candles, then trudged up the stairs.

He had already made it to the landing at the top of the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest, when he heard her slowly follow.

“Goodnight, Uncle Miles,” she yawned as she shuffled toward her room, her voice sleepy and sweet and oblivious.

“Goodnight,” he practically grunted before heading into his room. 

Once inside, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the dark as he told himself it had to stop. Whatever this was. It had to stop.

Chapter Text

Miles was already up when the first rays of sun pushed over the trees, glinting off the glass-like surface of the lake. The scene was a total contrast to the day before. A few clouds still lingered, but the storm had passed. 

Charlie was still fast asleep when Miles went downstairs.

Good, he thought bitterly as he moved through the kitchen on autopilot, brewing coffee the way he used to; before she started making it for him every morning. 

Every thought he’d tried to outrun the night before was still there. The storm outside may have passed, but the one inside him was still raging.

As his coffee maker beeped, he made a decision.

He couldn’t go through the motions today. Couldn’t joke or flirt. Not when he was slowly unraveling at the seams.

He needed to put a bit of distance between them, both physically and emotionally. It was the only way they were going to survive the rest of the summer.

So when he heard her soft footsteps on the stairs, he didn’t look up. Just stared into the mug in his hands and muttered a flat: “Morning.”

He could feel her eyes on him, so he just stared harder into the swirling dark of his coffee like it might give him answers. But all it gave him was a reflection. His face: shadowed and tired and older than he remembered.

“Wow. Cheerful as ever,” Charlie mumbled, reaching into the cabinet for a mug. “What happened? Did the storm steal your soul last night?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t look at her. But he could feel her frown and the way she suddenly became unsure of herself.

“Did I do something?” She finally asked. There was a definite vulnerability in her voice that made him feel like an ass.

So he acted like one, too, by simply saying: “Nope.”

He knew she was scowling. Even without looking up. 

“Okay,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’re being weird.”

Miles finally looked at her. One glance. Then back at his mug. “I’m not being anything. Just tired.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond. 

Eventually, she moved toward the door, grabbing a hoodie from the back of a chair. “I’m gonna go sit on the dock for a while. Let me know when the cloud of doom over your head clears.”

She left without slamming the door. Which somehow made it worse.

– – – 

She was gone for over an hour.

Long enough for the guilt to twist itself deeper into his gut.

Miles thought about going after her a dozen times. But every time he pictured her face – confused, hurt, vulnerable – he chickened out. What the hell would he even say? Sorry I let you fall asleep on me? Sorry I’m feeling things toward you I have no business feeling? 

Eventually, he gave in. He poured another cup, took a breath, and walked down the steps toward the dock, his boots thudding heavily against the weathered wood.

Charlie sat at the edge, legs dangling over the water, hoodie pulled up around her ears. She didn’t look at him when he approached, but he watched her shoulders rise as she sighed.

He stood a few feet behind her, then sat down with a groan. “Sorry.”

She said nothing.

“I was a dick,” he added. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Still nothing. She was doing that stubborn Matheson thing. He probably deserved it.

But he tried again. “It’s not you… okay?”

Charlie finally turned her head, eyes tired and, to his surprise, rimmed in red. “Then what is it, Miles? Because one minute we’re reading and laughing and painting rooms and the next you’re acting like I killed your dog.”

He flinched. Because she wasn’t wrong. And he hated himself for making her cry. 

He licked his lips and tried to brace himself. “I just... I don’t always know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

He looked out at the lake. “Be close to people.”

Perhaps it was his pathetic tone, because in that moment, Charlie’s expression softened just a little. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve known that since I was, like, eight. But you let me in, Miles. You… you let me see it. And now you’re pretending like that didn’t happen.”

“It shouldn’t have.”

And just like that, he watched her temper flash. Whatever softness he’d just seen vanished.

“Shit.” He panicked. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just... fuck.”

New tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re pushing me away.” 

He watched her bottom lip quiver, and immediately, he felt like someone had just stabbed him in the heart. He had no idea how to respond. So he just sat there, like a fucking idiot, his jaw clenched so tight it almost cracked. 

Charlie looked down. Away from him. “You think if you keep everyone at arm’s length, you won’t lose them. Or hurt them.” She blinked hard. “But that’s not how this works. You either show up or you don’t. You let people love you or you don’t.”

Miles remained quiet for a long time, letting her words slice through him. After a while he said, “I just… don’t want to fuck up your life.”

“Then don’t,” she said, her voice sure and challenging this time.

She stood up and walked back toward the house.

He stayed there on the dock for a long time. Alone. The wind tugged at the edge of his shirt and ruffled his hair while the guilt churned deeper.

– – –

He nearly ran into her on his way back inside. She was coming out the back door, her steps purposeful, like she’d been on her way to come find him.

They stopped short in front of each other.

“Sorry,” he said, instinctively reaching out to steady her. But then he thought better of it and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Charlie looked up at him, her expression calm and unreadable. Stoic in a way that would’ve made Rachel proud. 

“Let’s go into town,” she said casually. “Get pie. Pretend we’re normal.”

Miles blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you think I deserve pie?”

“Nobody deserves pie.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “That’s the point.”

He didn’t argue. 

“I’m driving,” she announced, dangling her keys in front of him.

They didn’t talk much on the drive, but the silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was something steadier. Calmer than he probably deserved. Charlie kept her expression soft and her gaze focused on the road. Her fingers gently tapped on the steering wheel while she quietly hummed along to some pop song playing that Miles didn’t recognize.

She was… 

Subdued. 

That was the only word Miles could think of as he snuck occasional glances at her from the passenger’s seat. Her usual bubbling energy was gone, but she didn’t seem withdrawn or bitter. She was calm; the kind of calm that came after a storm.

They made it to the diner on Main Street and ordered coffee and pie. Cherry for her, pecan for him.

Charlie dunked her spoon into the whipped cream and gave him a look. “So... are you gonna be weird all day or just half?”

“Still deciding,” he snarked. 

It was a test. To see what she’d do.

She smirked, and it sent something warm through his chest. 

He stirred cream into his coffee, watching it swirl. “You really like storms, huh?”

“Yeah. They make everything feel honest. Like the sky finally cracked open and said what it was holding in.”

Miles didn’t say anything, but he understood. Maybe too well.

She tilted her head. “You should try it sometime.”

He didn’t answer.

The pie was warm, and the coffee provided a nice, bitter balance. They lingered longer than they needed to, watching the last of the rainclouds retreat over the hills through the diner window.

On the way home, Charlie took the long route: through the hills, past the fields, letting the quiet stretch a little longer.

Neither of them said it, but they weren’t quite ready to go back yet.

Chapter Text

Several days passed, and the dust between them started to settle. Charlie dialed back her teasing, and Miles dialed back his brooding. The tension didn’t disappear, but it softened, like steam slowly rising off a roof after a summer rain. 

They eased into a rhythm again, this time careful not to tip into the territory they’d wandered into before. No more late-night couch sessions. No storm-soaked talks on the dock. Just a familiar, familial routine: quiet breakfasts, shared grocery runs, afternoons spent doing yard work or chores around the house.

Miles tried to convince himself that this was safer. Simpler. Better.

But some nights, when he caught sight of her curled up in his recliner with a book, bare legs folded under her and one of his flannels slipping off her shoulder, he felt like a man living inside a burning house, pretending not to notice the smoke.

When Nora invited them over for dinner, Miles actually agreed without protest – partly because he knew Charlie would want to go, but mostly because he was starting to run out of excuses to keep hiding.

He’d already spent too many afternoons rearranging his old shed in the backyard, and he was sure it was starting to look suspicious. 

Nora’s condo was tucked into a narrow side street on the edge of downtown Mineral Point. The exterior was plain brick, nothing flashy. But inside, it was color and texture and warmth in every direction. Woven tapestries hung beside framed photos of her family and friends and travels along with old tour flyers from the band days and a large canvas she said she painted during a tequila-fueled existential crisis. There were plants everywhere: hanging from the ceiling, trailing across window sills, even nestled between her stacks of records. 

And books. So many books. Novels and nonfiction and poetry collections; some in English, some in Spanish. 

As Miles and Charlie stepped inside, they were immediately greeted by the smell of adobo and cumin and something faintly citrusy.

"Shoes off!" Nora barked from the kitchen. "Unless you want to mop."

Charlie happily kicked hers off and wandered across the brightly patterned rug. "Smells amazing in here! What’d you make?"

"Arroz con gandules. And tostones. And a little roasted pork." Nora popped her head out of the kitchen and wiggled her eyebrows. "Don’t tell me I don’t spoil you people."

“She doesn’t usually.” Bass winked at Charlie. He was already lounging on the couch, sipping on a beer and snacking on the sorullitos Nora had made earlier.

Miles trailed behind Charlie, lingering in the front entryway a moment longer than necessary. He hadn’t been to Nora’s place in a while. Not since before Charlie showed up. And now, here she was, moving through Nora’s space, warming it even more with her vibrance, laughing with Bass as she joined him on the couch like she’d been here a hundred times before.

He hung back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Damn, Uncle Miles. You got old.”

The voice came from the hallway, smooth and teasing.

Connor Bennett exited the hall bathroom and strolled toward the living room, wearing a smirk he undoubtedly inherited from Bass. 

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What happened? Costa Rica finally realized you were scaring off the wildlife?”

“They said I was too pretty for the jungle,” Connor parried easily before pulling Miles into a hug. When he pulled back, his expression was warm. “Great to see you. It’s been a minute.” 

“Get over here, kid! And bring your grumpy godfather with you,” Bass interrupted from the couch, inviting them to join him and Charlie.

“Hey, Charlie,” Connor smiled as he walked around the couch and sat down. “Long time no see.” 

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Connor! Oh my God! It’s been years. I didn’t even recognize you.” 

"Yeah, puberty was kind." He smirked, offering her his hand. "I try not to let it go to my head."

Miles watched as they shook hands. Then they kept talking. And laughing. And leaning just a little too close.

He sat stiffly in an armchair, watching it unfold like a bad play. 

During dinner, he tried to focus on the food. Nora’s arroz was perfect, the pork savory and tender. But across the table, Charlie was giggling at something Connor had just said about a monkey stealing his sunscreen in Costa Rica, and Miles wanted to stab his fork through the table.

Nora caught his eye.

She arched an eyebrow and refilled his wine glass. "Easy, tiger."

"What?"

"You’re glaring at Connor like he owes you money."

Miles muttered into his glass. "Just didn’t realize this was a matchmaking dinner."

"It’s not," Nora corrected. "It’s a dinner. You brought your brooding. Charlie brought her charm. Connor brought his stupidly perfect hair."

Miles grunted under his breath.

Bass, meanwhile, was oblivious. Or pretending to be. He and Connor launched into a loud debate about which decade had the best rock albums, while Charlie happily refereed.

Miles shoved a forkful of rice into his mouth and tried not to look like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

Later, after dishes had been cleared and wine had flowed a little too freely, Connor pulled up his Instagram to show Charlie some of his favorite photos from Costa Rica.

“Hang on, I’m gonna follow you,” she told him, pulling out her own phone and hitting the ‘follow’ button once she found his profile.

He grinned and followed her back. “Feel free to slide into my DMs anytime.”

Bass quietly snorted. 

Miles felt his jaw tighten.

Nora leaned over and murmured a warning near his ear: “Don’t even think about starting something, Miles."

"Not starting anything," he growled through gritted teeth.

– – – 

The lake house was quiet when they returned. Charlie slipped off her sandals at the door and padded into the kitchen, still glowing from the wine and food and warmth of Nora’s condo.

“That was so good,” she gushed, spinning slightly on her heel as she set her bag and phone on the island. “I’m gonna be thinking about that pork for the next five years. And Nora’s place? Ugh. I want to live inside it. It’s like… cozy maximalist goddess vibes.”

Miles half-grunted in response as he hung his keys on the hook by the door.

Charlie ambled over to the couch and plopped down, stretching her arms overhead with a satisfied sigh. “Connor was hilarious, too. I forgot how funny he is. And smart.”

Miles didn’t say a word and made a beeline for the fridge, hoping the cold might slap some sense into him.

“We should watch something,” she suggested, propping her chin on the back of the couch. “Like a dumb movie or one of those reality shows you pretend to hate.”

“I’m gonna head up,” Miles said, closing the fridge without grabbing anything.

“What?” Her brow furrowed. “Already? It’s not even that late.”

“I’m tired, kid,” he responded. But he didn’t look at her when he said it. Just started for the stairs.

She watched him for a moment. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

She could tell something was off, but she didn’t press. She just nodded slowly and turned back to the couch, curling up sideways and hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest.

“’Night,” she called softly.

He paused on the stairs. “’Night.”

Charlie listened to the sound of his boots on the stairs as he made his ascent, then the soft thud of his bedroom door shutting. Her fingertips absentmindedly brushed over the fabric of the pillow while her mind wandered. 

Was it Connor?

No. That couldn’t be it. Could it? There was no possible way that Miles was… 

She shook her head, letting out a soft, skeptical laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered to herself.

But the words didn’t land. Not with the way her stomach was twisting.

She looked back toward the stairs, her brow still scrunched.

And the silence suddenly felt heavier than it had all week.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Miles quietly dragged himself downstairs, rubbing the back of his neck. 

He was already desperate for caffeine because, despite turning in early last night, he’d hardly slept.

It seemed like every time he’d closed his eyes, the image of Charlie – warm and flirty and glimmering as she laughed with Connor – kept assaulting his brain. 

The whole fucking thing was stupid. Beyond stupid. She was his niece, for Christ’s sake. And Connor was his godson. 

And by every objective measure, Connor was a great guy: smart, grounded, socially conscious, charming in a way that didn’t feel fake. And good-looking, too. The kid had Bass’s smirk and Emma’s spunk, and for some reason that combination made people fall all over themselves to be around him.

Plus, he treated Charlie with nothing but respect.

Which only made it worse. Because Miles couldn’t find a single goddamn reason to hate him – no real one, anyway.

But he found himself wanting nothing more than to punt Connor off a dock.

He exhaled hard through his nose and rounded the corner into the kitchen, muttering under his breath as he trudged toward the coffee maker.

And then he heard her.

Charlie’s voice, light and laughing, drifting in from the living room like sunlight through the cracks.

She was sitting in Miles’s recliner, mug in hand, iPad propped up beside her on the adjacent end table. On screen was none other than Connor himself, grinning at her in that effortless way that made Miles irrationally homicidal.

“Wait, wait, show me again…” Connor was saying. “The face you made when you tried Nora’s hot sauce.”

Charlie cracked up. “I thought I was dying! It was betrayal in a bottle. And you just fucking laughed at me.”

“Because it was funny!” He insisted. “But don’t worry. I did feel slightly bad afterward.”

Every muscle in Miles’s body clenched as he stood there, watching from a distance. Then he gritted his teeth and opened a kitchen cabinet.

His movements caught Charlie’s attention, and she glanced over. “Morning, Miles!”

Connor’s voice came through the speaker, chipper as ever. “Morning, Uncle Miles!”

Miles rolled his eyes. “You still calling me that? What are we, a sitcom family?”

“What crawled up his ass this morning?” She said to Connor, glancing toward the kitchen. 

Then she flinched as Miles slammed a cupboard door shut.

She exchanged a look with Connor and quickly wrapped up the call, promising to grab a drink with him before he left town and headed back to Costa Rica next week. Then she got up and wandered into the kitchen, watching as Miles took a sharp sip of coffee.

“Everything okay?” she asked lightly.

“Peachy.”

“Really? ‘Cause you’re slamming things like a toddler who got the wrong snack.”

He threw her a look that could’ve cut glass. “Ya done with your little morning rom-com?”

Charlie blinked. Then frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

Miles set his still mostly-full coffee mug on the counter and walked past her to grab his keys. “Forget it. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, this little place called: shut up and stay here.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her staring after him, brow furrowed.

– – –

Miles ended up at Bass’s place, slumped on the couch with a glass of whiskey in hand despite it not even being noon yet. The TV was on, some random DIY home improvement show playing on mute. 

Bass watched him from the armchair across the room. “You look like you wanna punch someone. Or cry. Or both.”

“Just needed a change of scenery.”

“Yeah, ‘cause a change of scenery is really working. Just look at you… scowling into your whiskey before noon.”

Miles took a sip and grumbled something unintelligible.

Bass let the silence hang a moment, then said, “So, you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass, or should I guess?”

“Nope.”

Bass leaned back and rubbed his chin while fighting a smirk. “Is this about Connor?”

No response.

He snorted. “You know, most people get jealous when their ex hooks up with someone new. Not when their niece FaceTimes a guy once.”

Miles’s glare could’ve cracked stone. “Ya done?”

“You’re the one sulking in my living room. I assumed you wanted entertainment.”

“I came for the quiet.”

“Then you picked the wrong house, dumbass.”

They sat in silence a while longer, broken only by Bass tapping a drumstick idly on the coffee table.

Eventually, he said, “If you need an excuse to avoid your hot niece, I’m happy to fake a medical emergency. Or better yet, I’ll start writing a rock opera and guilt you into co-writing it with me. We’ll lock ourselves in the studio for six weeks and you’ll forget she exists.”

Miles scowled. “I’m not avoiding Charlie.”

“Sure you’re not.” Bass let out a dry, bitter laugh. “That’s why you bolted like she set the house on fire just by saying good morning.”

Miles glared harder. “You’re a fucking idiot. How did you even know that anyway?”

“She told me, you moron. Texted me after you stormed out on her.”

Miles groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks a lot for meddling, asshole.”

Bass grinned. “Hey, I wouldn’t have to meddle if you’d quit acting like a guy who just caught feelings for his roommate.”

Miles’s eyes snapped up. “She’s not my room–”

“Oh, I know,” Bass interrupted. “She’s your niece . That’s what makes the whole thing such a charming little Greek tragedy.”

Miles downed the rest of his whiskey in one go, then slammed the glass down harder than necessary. “I don’t have time for this.”

He stood and grabbed his keys.

Bass just leaned back in his chair, smirking like a bastard. “Sure you do. You’ve still got half a summer to spiral.”

Miles glared at him on his way to the door.

“Hey, do us both a favor, huh?” Bass called after him. “Next time you go full moody poet over a girl, pick one who isn’t related to you and living in your house.”

Miles didn’t bother with an answer as he opened the door and walked out.

“See ya, Hades!” Bass shouted after him. “Tell Persephone I said hi!”

He shook his head and laughed when he heard Miles growl from the other side of the door.

– – – 

Instead of heading home right after he left Bass’s, Miles drove to the next town over and parked in the far corner of a Wal-Mart parking lot. No one would look for him here. It was the kind of place a person went to disappear for a while.

He sat there for hours, nursing the tail end of his bad mood, mentally replaying everything that had happened since this morning like a record on repeat. 

Everything Bass said echoed in his skull.  That smug little line about Greek tragedies… 

Christ. It should’ve been easy to dismiss. But he couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t wrong.

And that’s what had Miles twisted in knots. Because no matter how hard he tried to shove it down, this thing he felt for Charlie wasn’t going anywhere. Not with distance. Not with time. Not with whiskey or insults or avoiding the house like it was rigged with tripwires.

He slammed a hand on the steering wheel, then let his head fall back against the seat.

What the hell was he doing? Letting her live there? Letting her crawl into his life like it was hers to fill?

And worse – worse than all of it – was that deep, aching part of him that didn’t want her to leave.

He felt sick with himself. Like he’d crossed a line somewhere back there and couldn’t retrace his steps.

That sick, sinking feeling in his stomach stayed with him all the way home. 

By the time he did finally make it home, the sun had begun to dip lower in the sky. When he walked inside, the air smelled like basil and tomatoes, like something warm and real and good.

Charlie was in the kitchen, plating up two dishes of pasta, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, the wide neckline of her t-shirt falling just enough to show the slope of one shoulder.

Miles swallowed hard as he watched her for a brief moment and tried like hell to pretend he hadn’t just spent half the day losing his goddamn mind over her.

She turned when she heard him and gently smiled. “Hey. Perfect timing. I made dinner.”

He eyed the dining table, where she’d placed a fresh bouquet of flowers and a couple of burning candles in the center. It took his brain a second to process. “Uh...this is for me?” 

She arched an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

He hesitated for a second. “You don’t have plans with Connor?”

She paused, then gave a slow smirk. “Miles...”

“What?” His voice almost trembled. He’d never felt more exposed in his entire life.

She let out a soft sigh, like she knew a secret. “I don’t wanna hang out with Connor tonight.” She paused. Then spoke calmly. “I wanna hang out with you. ” 

A tight, warm ache flared in his chest. He hated how much he liked hearing her say it.

He looked away. “Well, you didn’t have to do all this. We could’ve just ordered a pizza.”

“It’s just pasta.” She shrugged.

Yeah, just pasta. With fresh herbs, warm bread, candles, and fucking flowers in a vase.

He didn’t say anything more and walked toward the sink to wash his hands. Behind him, Charlie adjusted the flowers in their vase and poured two glasses of red wine.

“So… how was the rest of your day?” She asked.

It was such a simple question, but there was something about the way she said it – so easily – like she knew exactly what she was doing; like she was offering him something more than dinner and pretending it was nothing at all.

“It was fine,” he sighed, sitting down and draping a napkin over his lap. One of those fancy cloth ones that he never bothered to take out of his linen closet.  “Let’s eat.”

She handed him a plate, and their fingers brushed. Just barely. But enough to make Miles’s stomach flip like a goddamn teenager’s.

They sat across from each other, and for a few minutes, it was quiet except for the scraping of their forks against ceramic. She kept sneaking looks at him. And he kept catching her.

“This is good,” he muttered eventually, eyes on his plate.

Charlie smirked. “Way better than pizza, right?”

He huffed, the closest thing to a laugh he’d managed all day.

Another long stretch of silence passed, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… careful. Like they were both trying not to touch a bruise.

Then Charlie leaned her elbows on the table and looked at him across the candlelight. “Hey, Miles?”

“Hm?” He met her eyes, and his chest tightened. 

She smiled, soft and warm and just a little dangerous. “You don’t have to be scared of me, ya know.”

He paused mid-chew.

The words hit harder than they should have. Because she wasn’t wrong. And he knew she wasn’t talking about fear in the usual sense.

Miles swallowed, then reached for his wine glass, Not because he needed it, but because he needed something to do.

“I’m not scared,” he muttered into his glass before taking a sip.

Charlie tilted her head, looking way too knowing and way too fucking cute. “Okay.”

Her voice said it loud and clear: I know better.

He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t.

But the silence that lingered between them said everything.

Chapter Text

“This better be good, Monroe,” Nora sighed in annoyance as she approached the patio at The Crossbow Café. “You know I don’t speak human before ten.” 

Bass was already kicked back with his phone, looking way too pleased with himself for six-thirty in the goddamn morning. He didn’t even glance up as he scrolled. “Yet here you are. Must be love.”

Nora narrowed her eyes and pushed her sunglasses into her hair. “I swear, if this is about some new mixer you want me to bless, I’m turning right around.”

“Relax, sweetheart.” He finally looked up. “Connor needed a ride to the airport at five. Figured since I was already vertical, I’d get a jump on my day. And maybe make yours a little brighter.”

“Trying to bribe me with caffeine?”

“Worked in 2007, didn’t it?”

“You also had abs in 2007. What’s your excuse now?”

He flashed her the smarmiest smile. “I’ll have you know I’m still considered very high-value to women over thirty. And several Instagram bots!”

Nora couldn’t help but snort at that. “Hope you and 'HotMomsOfMinnesota247' are very happy together."

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He grinned as he stood up and led the way to the café entrance, holding the door open for her. 

Nora ordered an iced latte, which she made Bass pay for, and he ordered an iced Americano. Then they made their way back outside, drinks in hand, settling at a table shaded by a wide red umbrella. 

“Alright,” she said, shoving a straw in her drink. “You dragged me here under the guise of coffee and bonding. But I know you... so spill.”

Bass leaned back and spread his knees in that cocky, manspreading way Nora hated. “So,” he drawled. “How long are we gonna keep pretending not to notice that your girl is practically glowing every time Miles walks into a room?”

Nora smirked. “Same length of time we’re pretending he doesn’t look like he’s going to kill someone every time any other guy so much as breathes in her direction.”

“Ah. So we’re not in denial anymore. Good. Saves time.”

“God help us,” Nora groaned before sipping her coffee. “They’re actually doing it, aren’t they?”

“Doing what?”

“Falling for each other. I mean, in Miles Matheson’s completely repressed, self-loathing, glowery kind of way.”

Bass chuckled. “And Charlie’s just out here waving a flag like she’s already planted it in his chest.”

Nora nodded. “Honestly, I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“He doesn’t. That’s why he’s spiraling. The man can barely handle a compliment without grimacing. You think he knows what to do with a twenty-something wildfire who makes him dinner and looks at him like he’s her own personal Disney prince?”

“If a Disney prince had a drinking problem and commitment issues.” Nora shook her head.

“She’s the Beauty to his Beast. Only with less Stockholm and more snickerdoodles.”

“Poor bastard.”

“Poor all of us if this thing blows up,” he muttered, taking a sip of his Americano. “But it’s different this time. She’s not just getting under his skin, she’s cracking it open. I don’t think he knows how to handle it. But I think he wants to.”

Nora stirred her drink and kept her voice intentionally low. “So, what – we’re just outright endorsing incest now?”

Bass shrugged, the smirk on his face a little too shameless. “If it means that crotchety son of a bitch finally gets laid, then yeah.” 

“You’re such a pig,” Nora huffed out a mildly horrified laugh. 

He just shrugged again, not denying it. But then his expression softened into something more sincere. “Look. You’ve known Miles for a couple of decades. And I’ve got over forty years under my belt with him. Tell me, when was the last time you saw him looking at a girl – any girl – the way he looks at Charlie?” 

“Never,” she admitted.

“Exactly. Never. Like I said, this is different. Besides.” He sipped his drink again. “If the universe wanted them to stay platonic, it shouldn’t have wrapped them in that much sexual tension.”

She rolled her eyes. “So what do we do? Sit back and hope Miles finally pulls his head out of his ass?”

“Or…” He raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly. “We give them a little nudge.”

Nora narrowed her eyes warily. “I thought you were against meddling.”

“I’m not meddling. I’m engineering. Big difference.”

She snorted. “You’re gonna make a terrible fairy godmother.”

“Hey, I’d look great in tulle.”

“Please don’t say tulle again.”

Bass leaned forward. “All I’m saying is… maybe we don’t shove them off the cliff. Maybe we just... build the ramp.”

“And what, exactly, would this metaphorical ramp look like?”

“Group camping trip.” He offered. “You, me, them. Bonfire. Fresh air. Shared tent trauma. Bring the acoustic guitar for extra emotional devastation.”

Nora considered it, then shook her head. “Miles will never say yes to that.”

“Oh, he’ll say no within two seconds. No doubt,” Bass said. “Then Charlie will make him say yes.”

She actually laughed at that. “God. You’re good.”

He winked and took another sip of his coffee.

Nora sighed and stood up, grabbing her now-empty cup. “I can’t believe I just let you talk me into going camping. With the world’s grumpiest man, no less. If this explodes, I’m blaming your fairy godmother ass.”

“Deal,” he said, rising to join her. “And hey, Nora?”

“Hm?”

“You look good in the morning light.”

She rolled her eyes before sliding her sunglasses back on. “Don’t start.”

“Start what? Sweetheart, I’ve been flirting with you since 2005.”

“Yeah, and I still haven’t said yes.” She started to walk down the sidewalk.

“Yet!” Bass called after her.

“In your dreams, Monroe,” she fired back over her shoulder.

He grinned and watched her go, admiring the way she looked in her jeans.

– – –

The next few days at the lake house passed in a haze of quiet tension. Miles’s typical edge of grumpiness was slowly morphing back into brooding, and this time, Charlie noticed it was taking on a sharper edge. He was more withdrawn. Less explainable.

She gave him space most days but also watched him more closely, filing away every clipped comment, every heavy sigh, every time he changed the subject when things drifted too close to personal.

By day four, she couldn’t take it anymore.

So when Miles and Bass holed up in the studio for an all-day session, Charlie texted Nora and asked if she wanted to grab lunch before Nora’s shift at the bar. Ten minutes later, Nora texted back a time and a location with a winking emoji.

The restaurant they picked was cozy and vibrant, with mismatched chairs and old vinyls framed on the walls. Nora arrived first and grabbed them a table. She was already halfway through an iced tea by the time Charlie slid into the seat across from her with a focused look on her face.

"You look like a woman on a mission," Nora noted, sipping her drink.

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe just... looking for a little perspective."

Nora smirked. “Perspective on a certain grumpy musician who won’t make eye contact with you lately?”

Charlie frowned. “I didn’t say anything about–”

“You didn’t have to.” Nora waved a hand. “It’s written all over your face, girl.”

Charlie bit her bottom lip. Her thoughts swirled while their server, a red-haired girl who looked about her age, came over to take their lunch orders and collect their menus.

She felt like she was standing mid-step on a tightrope: exposed, unsure, precarious. One part of her wanted to drop all the pretenses and tell Nora everything. No sugarcoating, no dancing around it. But as she sat there, staring at her beautiful friend’s face, she had no idea how Nora would react. Was this the kind of thing you came back from? Telling someone you wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with your own uncle?

“Oh my God, you really are a Matheson.” Nora’s chuckle cut through the silence. “I totally see it now.”

Charlie frowned harder. “What?”

“The brooding.” Nora smirked. “You’re brooding exactly like Miles right now.”

“No I’m not,” Charlie protested – only to realize how dumb the words coming out of her mouth sounded.

Nora conceded, but the knowing smirk on her face stayed in place as she took another sip of iced tea. 

Charlie chewed on her bottom lip and studied the salt and pepper shakers, trying to gather her bearings. 

Thankfully, the server returned then with their food: a smoked chicken wrap and side salad for Nora, and a BLT with fries for Charlie.

Charlie picked up a fry and sulked at it.

“So what’s tall, dark, and grumpy been doing lately that’s got you pouting this bad?” Nora finally asked.

Charlie exhaled and dropped the fry. “He just… he makes me crazy! I don’t think I’ve ever met a more emotionally constipated human in my entire life.”

Nora quietly snorted. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Charlie groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “It’s like, one minute he’s avoiding me like I’m contagious, and the next he’s making me dinner and looking at me like… like he doesn’t know whether to kiss me or throw himself into the lake.”

Nora’s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned back. “Okay. Wow. We’re actually going here…”

Charlie felt her face flush as she pleadingly looked up at Nora. “I’m all messed up.”

Nora’s smile turned from knowing to sympathetic. She set her fork down. “You wanna tell me what’s actually going on?”

Charlie hesitated and looked down at her plate. “I like him.”

Her mouth twitched knowingly, but Nora didn’t say anything at first. She just watched Charlie with gentle, focused affection, like she was examining a gemstone for cracks.

But then the panic kicked in fast, and Charlie rushed ahead, words tumbling out. “I know how it sounds. And I know it’s not what anyone expects. But I’m not confused. I’m not playing some game. It’s not rebellion or daddy-issue drama. I just… feel something. Big. Real. And I think he does, too. He just won’t admit it.”

She picked at her food. Nora gave her a moment.

“Well,” Nora eventually said, dry as ever. “At least now I know what Bass meant when he said I’d probably want to spike my drink by the end of this conversation.”

Charlie’s mouth dropped open. “You and Bass talked about this?!”

Nora shrugged. “He noticed. I noticed. Pretty sure the neighbor’s dog noticed. You and Miles aren’t exactly subtle.”

Charlie leaned back and groaned.

“But hey,” Nora said, more gently now. “You’re not insane. And you’re not alone in this.”

Charlie’s throat tightened. “So you’re not… judging me?”

Nora’s smile turned fond. “Babe, I’ve done way weirder things than fall in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to. And I’ve survived most of them.”

Charlie gave a watery laugh. “That’s not comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to be true.”

They sat for a moment, letting the buzz of the café and the clinking of silverware surround them.

“And for the record,” Nora added after a while. “I think he feels it, too. But if I know Miles, he’s halfway through a guilt spiral and trying to convince himself that he's not allowed to cross this line with you, that he doesn’t deserve anything good.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “That sounds about right.”

Nora reached across the table and patted Charlie’s hand. “My advice? Don’t push. Just be there. Stay soft and stay in his orbit. Hold your ground. He’ll get there eventually. There might be some kicking and screaming involved, but he’ll get there.”

"Thanks, Nora." Charlie smiled slowly. “You’re kind of a badass, you know that?”

“Obviously.” Nora grinned. “But thank you for noticing.”

Charlie picked up her BLT, appetite returning. “So… what’s this I hear about a camping trip?”

Nora lifted an eyebrow. “Camping trip?”

Charlie gave her an incredulous look before rolling her eyes.

Nora gave a casual shrug. “Just something that came up in conversation. Bass got nostalgic. You know how he gets when he hasn’t played guitar by a fire in a while.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “So this has absolutely nothing to do with Miles and me?”

“Of course not,” Nora sing-songed innocently. “It’s about fresh air. Nature. Bonding. Mosquito bites.”

Charlie raised her glass. “To mosquito bites and plausible deniability.”

Nora clinked her glass against Charlie’s. “To love, friendship, and a little mischief.”

They both took a sip, and for the first time in days, Charlie felt a little more steady. A little more grounded. And a little more like herself again.

Chapter Text

Bass and Nora wore matching smirks as Bass pulled Nora’s SUV into Miles’s gravel driveway on the morning of the camping trip. 

Everything had gone exactly as expected: Nora had pitched the idea; Miles had shot it down. Then Charlie had said she wanted to go, and just like that, Miles Matheson had folded like a lawn chair.

He was already on the front porch with a travel coffee mug in hand, sunglasses on, and duffel slung over his shoulder like he was being dragged off to war. Charlie trailed behind him in hi-top Converse, cutoffs, and a tank top, lugging a cooler with both hands.

Bass rolled down the window and grinned. “G’morning! Look at this cheerful little crew. Ready for some enforced bonding?”

“If by bonding you mean sleeping on the ground and getting eaten alive by bugs, then sure,” Miles grumbled.

Charlie smirked and loaded the cooler into the back of the SUV, shoving it in wherever she could find space. “Aww, come on, Uncle Miles. It’ll be fun.”

Miles muttered something to himself and rounded the front of the car, then opened the door to the front passenger side, where Nora was already sitting, sandals kicked off, posture relaxed.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I help you?” 

“You’re in my seat.” 

“And you’re in my car,” she sassed. “Backseat, cowboy.”

Bass leaned across the console and smirked at him. “Better get cozy back there, Uncle Sunshine.”

With a look that could curdle milk, Miles backed off and climbed into the backseat. Charlie followed, doing her best not to look too excited or smug.

The doors slammed. Nora cranked the music and turned to Monroe with a bright, mischievous grin. “Ready to go?”

“Born ready,” he said, shifting the car into reverse.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Charlie stole a glance at Miles beside her. He was looking out the window like he wished he could phase through it. 

But his arm rested just a little too close to hers on the center seat, and for a second, she let herself imagine reaching over and curling her fingers around his – how easy it would be; how good it would feel. 

She bit her lip and gazed out her window. 

This was going to be one long drive. 

– – –

They drove for a couple of hours, winding through the kind of back roads that looked like they hadn’t been repaved in decades. Charlie took it all in as they passed cornfields and thick, green woods and the occasional barn or rural gas station.

The SUV smelled like sunscreen and coffee and something slightly chemical from the bug spray Nora had doused herself in before they left. The stereo cycled between old Springsteen, AC/DC, and whatever indie folk rock playlist Nora had queued up. Monroe sang along to everything. Loudly.

Miles stayed quiet for most of the drive, arms crossed, sunglasses on, jaw locked. Occasionally, he nodded off or shifted in his seat like the air back there was suffocating him.

Charlie had never been more aware of another person’s body. She couldn’t help but notice the heat that radiated off his arm where it rested inches from hers, or the accidental brush of knees when the SUV hit a pothole. Her own skin buzzed every time she looked over and saw the shape of his profile lit by the sun-streaked glass.

By the time they pulled into the campground, her nerves felt like they’d been tumble-dried on high heat.

“Home sweet wilderness,” Bass announced as they parked at the edge of a shady clearing nestled between towering pines. The lake glimmered through the trees just beyond, and the air was thick with the scent of dirt, pine sap, and distant campfire smoke.

Charlie stepped out of the SUV and stretched, breathing it all in.

For a moment, she was ten years old again with mud on her knees, wild hair tangled in the wind, daring Danny to eat a beetle she found behind a log. 

She hadn’t thought about that version of herself in a long time, but the memory wrapped around her like a nostalgic hug. She couldn't help but smile.

“This place is great,” she said as she tugged her bag out of the car. “Good pick, Nora.”

“You’re welcome,” Nora said brightly.

“Okay, everybody grab gear,” Bass directed, clapping his hands. “Let’s get camp set up before Uncle Sunshine self-combusts.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Not when I’m in nature,” Bass replied.

“Or anywhere else,” Nora added.

Charlie watched their exchange and grinned. 

Nora opened the hatch and handed out supplies like a general issuing orders. “Tents first. Firewood next. And do not screw up my food organizational system. Clear?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Bass saluted.

Charlie met Miles’s eye over the hood of the SUV. He looked tired. And wary. But when she smiled at him, he half smiled back. 

She walked over and bumped his arm gently with hers. “Come on, Grizzly Adams. Let’s go pitch a tent.”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “I already regret coming.”

She smirked. “No, you don’t.”

The clearing was soft with moss and shaded by tall pines, birds chirping overhead as Nora tossed the tent bags onto the ground.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s divide and conquer.”

Charlie picked up one of the bags and looked around. “Are we missing a tent? This one seems kind of small.”

“Oh,” Nora said breezily. “Yeah… about that. Turns out my other bigger tent has a busted zipper. So a couple of us are gonna have to get real cozy.”

“Well now, ain’t that a damn shame?” Bass drawled while Miles shot him a look sharp enough to kill a bear. 

Charlie pushed her fingers through her hair. “So… then… what’s the plan?”

“Depends.” Nora shrugged. “Anyone here claustrophobic? The big one’s snug. That one,” she nodded at the tent Charlie was holding. “...is basically a coffin with a zipper.”

“I vote I take the cozy one with Charlie.” Bass grinned. “What do you say, Charlotte? Wanna be my snuggle buddy?”

“Not happening,” Miles growled.

Charlie fought back a smirk when she realized what Monroe was doing.

“I’m just saying,” Bass continued, ignoring Miles entirely. “We’ll stay nice and warm all night. Unless you wanna cuddle up with me, Nora?”

Nora didn’t even look up as she sorted out tent poles. “There is no universe where I’m sharing the tiny tent with you.”

“It’s fine,” Charlie said, unzipping the smaller tent bag. “Miles and I can take the smaller one.”

Miles glared at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Perfect! Settled,” Bass concluded, already laying out the slightly larger tent for him and Nora.

Charlie turned to Miles and shrugged. “It’s just two nights.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then muttered something unintelligible and dropped his duffel next to the smaller tent.

Charlie tried not to laugh as she knelt beside him to help with the poles.

He refused to look at her as he shook out the tent fabric with a little more force than necessary.

– – –

For dinner, they had flame-cooked hot dogs, foil-wrapped potatoes, and a weirdly excellent peach cobbler that Nora managed to create on the campfire.

Later, they sat around the fire pit in camping chairs, drinks in hand, dusk warm and slow around them.

Bass was deep into his second beer and halfway through a story. For the life of her, Charlie couldn’t tell if it was real or completely made up.

“So, it’s 1996,” he said, gesturing with his can like a conductor. “I’ve just convinced Miles and your dad to sneak out after curfew so we can meet these two girls from Dodgeville at an all-night bowling alley. I’ve got a fake ID, a twelve-pack, and absolutely no plan.”

Charlie leaned forward, grinning. “This already sounds like a bad idea.”

“It was an amazing idea,” Bass said. “Until we got pulled over on County Road J and Miles almost cried.”

“I did not cry,” Miles growled. His long legs were stretched out toward the fire, arms crossed like a dad forced into family fun.

“You did!” Bass insisted. “You said – and I quote – ‘We’re all going to juvie and it’s all your fault, Bass!’”

Charlie snorted and sipped her drink.

“That is not what happened. First of all.” Miles gave Charlie an exasperated look. “Your dad bailed before we even got in the car. And second.” He turned back to Bass. “That wasn’t County Road J. That was the night you borrowed your cousin’s Ford and forgot the brake lights didn’t work.”

Bass paused and thought about it for a second. “Oh, shit. You’re right. The bowling alley night was when we hit that raccoon and Ben threw up in a ditch.”

“Exactly,” Miles grumbled. “Try to keep your criminal escapades straight.”

“I can’t help it.” Bass turned to Charlie and winked. “There were so many.”

Miles shook his head. “You’re lucky I still talk to you.”

“Oh come on,” Bass said, grinning. “You loved those nights.”

“I tolerated them,” Miles corrected. “With the understanding that if I died in a blaze of your idiocy, I’d haunt you forever.”

Nora took a long sip of wine. “You two were such losers.”

“‘Were’ being the operative word there,” Bass quipped. “We grew out of it eventually. Mostly.”

Charlie was still laughing when she turned toward Miles, noticing the sullen look on his face. “Aw, don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting.”

She bit back a laugh. “You’re totally pouting.”

He made a face and looked away, sulking into his beer.

Charlie leaned in, voice low enough that only Miles could hear. 

(Not that the others noticed. Bass had already launched into another story, and Nora was too busy fact-checking him to care.)

“I thought it was cute,” Charlie said near his ear.

Miles scowled. “What?”

“You, getting all grumpy about that story.” Her smile turned teasing. “Like a puppy with a bruised ego.”

He rolled his eyes and almost smirked. “Do not compare me to a puppy.”

Charlie ignored him and gently bumped her shoulder against his.

There it was: that flutter, low and warm, blooming out from the center of her chest. She could’ve blamed the wine, but she knew better. Because when she caught his gaze and held it this time, he was actually looking at her. Not past her, not around her, but at her.

The firelight danced across his face, and she couldn’t help but notice how devastatingly good he looked tonight. He was still grumpy as ever, but that familiar frown was just a little more relaxed than usual. He looked handsome in a way that wasn’t just rugged but real. Like someone you could trust with all your sharp, impossible feelings.

Charlie swallowed and looked away, a little breathless.

As Bass told more stories and Nora busted out supplies for s’mores, Charlie kept sneaking glances at Miles. His eyes caught hers on more than a few instances. 

They didn’t say much else to each other, but their eyes said it all.

Once the fire had burned low and the laughter had faded, Bass and Nora disappeared into their tent with a bottle of wine and a pair of lanterns.

Charlie stepped out of the makeshift bathroom and glanced around the now-quiet campsite. She caught sight of Miles crouched at the entrance of their tent, wrestling with the zipper.

He looked up when she approached and sighed. “This was a terrible idea.”

“You say that about everything,” she teased, brushing past him to climb inside.

The tent was ridiculously small. Their sleeping bags barely fit side by side, and there was no way their limbs wouldn’t be bumping into each other tonight.

Charlie stretched out on her side with a quiet sigh. “Night, Uncle Miles.” 

“Night,” he grunted as he laid down and rolled away from her.

She stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about how warm it suddenly felt or how loud his breathing was.

Then she closed her eyes and hoped she’d fall asleep quickly. 

Chapter Text

Miles woke up to warmth.

Not just the trapped heat of the tent or the muggy Wisconsin morning pressing through the canvas walls but something softer. Closer.

There was an arm around his waist, a leg tangled with his, and a cheek pressed against his chest.

For one disoriented second, his brain couldn’t connect the dots, but then it all clicked: 

The drive, the campsite, the goddamn too-small tent.

His eyes snapped open.

Charlie was still fast asleep, curled against him like a housecat, totally content and completely oblivious to the way they were entangled together while the pale light of early morning filtered through the tent.

At some point in the night, she’d made him her own personal pillow. And he’d apparently let her. Her breath ghosted against his skin, and she looked so beautiful. So peaceful. Like none of this was wrong.

Meanwhile, he was rapidly spiraling.

His heart thudded against his ribs, not only because of what was happening, but because of how good it felt, and how easy it would be to stay exactly like this. 

Worst of all: a part of him wanted to. He had to consciously resist the urge to wrap his arms around her and tug her even closer.

She’s you’re fucking niece, you sick bastard, the rational part of his brain chided. 

Yeah. Like he didn’t already know.  

He exhaled through his nose and stared down at her, trying to figure out what the hell to do. 

If he moved, he’d wake her. And then have to face the full weight of his stupidity. 

Because a part of him already knew. This wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t some innocent little accident. He’d let himself get lazy last night; tired, buzzed, softened by the firelight and her smile and the way she looked at him like he was everything she’d ever wanted.

And now here she was, soft and sleep-warm and so damn close; wrapped around him like something out of a dream he had no business dreaming.

He closed his eyes, and took a slow, careful breath. 

She shifted then and nuzzled closer. He froze when she let out a soft, sleepy sigh against his chest that sent a jolt of heat straight to his morning wood.

Nope. Nuh-uh. Absolutely not.

He extricated himself as gently as possible, peeling himself out from under her arm, unhooking their legs, then backing away like she was a live grenade. 

While he frantically grabbed his shoes, Charlie mumbled something in her sleep and rolled onto her back, oblivious and unbothered. He stared at her for just a second, then shoved out of the tent, stumbling on his way out.

The morning air slapped him in the face. Good, he thought. He needed the fucking waking up call. 

What the fuck is wrong with you? He berated himself as he ran a hand through his hair and paced, trying to come up with some kind of plan. Because if he spent even just one more night in that tent with her, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. 

He could hardly look at her when she emerged from the tent a while later. But he told them the plan over breakfast:

"We're switching tents tonight. Girls in the big one. Guys in the small one."

Bass arched an eyebrow, irritated. "You wanna try that again, Sunshine?"

Miles clenched his jaw. "It's not up for debate."

“Sounds like Miles wants to snuggle with you, Monroe.” Nora smirked. 

Miles glared at her, but she just grinned and poured herself some coffee. 

Charlie was extra quiet, and when their eyes briefly met across the campfire, Miles swore he saw a flicker of hurt on her face. 

He ignored it. 

Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from breaking his own goddamn rules. And if he crossed that line, he wasn’t sure there’d be any coming back from it.

– – – 

After a mostly quiet and somewhat tense breakfast, Nora convinced them all to go on a short hike. They wandered loosely down a pine-needled trail, making light conversation and admiring the trees. 

The trail looped toward a wide bend in the lake, opening up into a small, rocky shoreline. Dragonflies hovered over the water’s edge. The sun glinted off the ripples like scattered coins.

“Alright, field trip break,” Nora announced. “Everyone hydrate and pretend to enjoy nature.”

Bass plopped onto a fallen log. “I’m pretending so hard right now.”

Charlie let her boots thump against a sun-warmed boulder and pulled her hair up into a loose bun. She was reaching for her water bottle when she noticed Nora sidle up to Miles and casually steer him toward a quieter edge of the shore.

“Hey, come help me skip rocks,” Nora said.

Miles eyed her. “Since when do you skip rocks?”

“Since I need a private moment to lecture you.” She smiled sweetly and walked off, knowing he’d follow.

He did, but not without grumbling something under his breath.

Charlie watched them go. Then Bass appeared at her side with a sigh and two energy bars in hand.

“Snack?” He offered her one.

She side-eyed him but accepted it. “What’s going on? Are you and Nora staging a coordinated ambush?”

“Please. We operate on vibes and chaos,” he chuckled, peeling the wrapper. “But yeah, we figured you and Eeyore over there could use a little encouragement.”

Charlie laughed, despite herself. “He’s been extra Eeyore lately, huh?”

“Yeah, I wonder why?” Bass let the implication hang for a moment as he took a bite of his bar. “So. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to keep pretending I’m not observant?”

She swallowed and stared at the ground for a second. She was half-tempted to come up with some dumb excuse, but honestly? What was the point? It’s not like Bass didn’t already know. 

So she sighed and told it to him straight: “I like him.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Bass chuckled.

For some reason, his response made her feel defensive, and she snapped her head up, glaring at him. “Then why are we even having this conversation?”

Bass held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, kid. I’m just trying to help. No need to bite my head off.”  

She blushed, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

After a moment, she let out a heavy sigh. “I just… I didn’t expect this to happen.”

“You never do. That’s the good stuff.” Bass sat down and leaned back on his elbows, watching the sunlight dance on the water. 

She sat down next to him, twisting her mouth into a lopsided frown. “He’s my uncle. I know I shouldn’t even feel this way about him, but I do. And it’s like I can’t stop myself.” 

“Look, Charlotte. This isn’t exactly a rom-com setup. I get that. It’s messy and complicated. But that’s just how it is sometimes.” 

She gave him a quizzical look. “You don’t think… I mean, you’re not… bothered by the fact that Miles and I are family?”

Bass shrugged. “You’re both adults, and nobody here’s been manipulated or coerced. You fell into something messy and real. That happens. And I’ve known that man my whole life. If this wasn’t real for him, he’d have run like hell a long time ago.”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, allowing Bass’s words to settle over her.

“That was pretty wise.” she said softly.

“Of course, it was.” He grinned. ​​”I’m full of wisdom. And I’m hot. Honestly, it’s exhausting.”

She chuckled and shoved him lightly, watching as he laughed. 

A comfortable silence fell between them for a moment as they watched the lake. 

Her eyes wandered over to where Miles and Nora were, and she sighed. “He keeps pulling away.”

“He always does. It’s not you. That’s just how he’s wired. Miles loves like a dog who’s been kicked too many times. He’ll flinch. Growl. Pretend he doesn’t care. But he does.”

She was quiet for a moment. “So what do I do?”

“Be patient. Be loud. Don’t give him space when he starts to wall up. And never let him convince you that he doesn’t deserve what he wants.” Bass looked at her, serious now. “You’re not gonna break him, Charlie. Even if he sometimes acts like you might.”

She nodded, feeling lighter in one way and heavier in another. As if something had just quietly shifted inside her. “Thanks, Bass.”

He bumped her shoulder. “Anytime. Also, if you two get married, I am absolutely officiating.”

Charlie laughed. “Deal.”

A little farther down the shore, Miles picked up a smooth stone and flung it into the water. It sank without even attempting a skip. He couldn’t help but think there was some cruel life metaphor in there somewhere.

“Solid form,” Nora quipped as she picked up a stone of her own.

He rolled his eyes. “So you gonna tell me why you dragged me over here?”

“Oh, just a chance to point out that you’re a coward.” She smiled like she was giving him a compliment.

He scoffed. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.”

“And yet you have,” she said, suddenly gentler. “That’s what’s messing you up, isn’t it?”

Panic buzzed in his chest. He looked away.

“She’s good for you,” Nora continued. “And I think you know that. But you’re trying to convince yourself she deserves better.”

“She’s my niece. I’m trying to protect her,” he snapped.

“No. You’re trying to keep from falling apart.” Nora stepped in front of him, eyes fierce but kind. “You always do this, Miles. You make someone believe they matter to you, and then you wall off once they get close. You did it to me. And now you’re doing it to Charlie.”

His shoulders sank as the weight of her accusation (which was entirely true) pressed in on him.

But surrendering wasn’t his style, so he still tried to argue. “She’s just a kid.” 

“No, she’s not. And you know that,” Nora countered. “She’s not some fragile little girl like you keep making her out to be. And you’re not some disease that’s going to infect her. Stop acting like loving her is some kind of curse.”

Miles ran a hand through his hair, breathing hard through his nose. He really hated how exposed he felt.

“You think she doesn’t know who you are?” Nora went on. “She sees you. The real you. And she’s still here.”

He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t. But his eyes flicked back toward the clearing where Charlie sat beside Bass, laughing softly at something he’d said.

She looked radiant. Young and free and so fucking full of light. 

She scared the hell out of him. Because she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

As he stared at her a moment longer, something cracked open inside him.

Ans for the first time in years, Miles didn’t want to pretend anymore. 

– – – 

Charlie headed back down to the lake’s edge after lunch, skipping stones and pretending not to be waiting for him. 

She didn’t have to wait long. She tried not to smirk too hard when she heard the almost hesitant crunch of his boots as he slowly approached. 

Miles cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, tossing another pebble into the water. It plunked without a skip.

He stepped up beside her, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His sunglasses were gone now, and he looked both more open and more exhausted without them, like someone who hadn’t slept right in years.

They stood in silence for a while. The water lapped gently at the rocks. A breeze stirred the pine trees.

“So…” he finally said, gaze firmly directed at the lake instead of at her. “About… earlier. This morning.”

Charlie turned to look at him, studying his profile, noticing the way his salt-n-pepper stubble looked in the sunlight, the way his jaw muscles twitched. She didn’t say anything and waited.

He sighed heavily. “I just – I didn’t mean to make things weird. Or… weirder. I was just trying to do the right thing. Or what felt like the right thing. Even though I clearly have no fucking clue what that is anymore.”

He still wouldn’t look at her, so she gingerly stepped in front of him. She crossed her arms and gave him a knowing look. “Finished?”

“No,” he admitted after a few seconds. “Probably not. But I’m trying.”

There was a vulnerability in his face that she hadn’t seen all summer, or maybe even ever. It was kind of adorable. 

“I’ve never…” He hesitated and scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never felt this kind of thing before. Not like this. Not with someone who actually matters.”

Her heart clenched, and she really wanted to say, ‘me too.’ But she stayed quiet, letting him stumble his way through it.

“I keep thinking if I just stay on the right side of the line, maybe I can protect you. But the truth is… I’m not sure I can protect either of us from this.” He looked at her then, and the sheer vulnerability in his expression nearly broke her. “I’m trying, Charlie. I’m just not sure I’m any good at it.”

She let out a short laugh and shook her head. “You’re such a dork.”

He stared at her, confused. “What?”

“You,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re trying to talk your way out of something that’s already happening. That’s been happening. And did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t need you to protect me? That what I really need is just… you?”

He looked at her like she’d just slapped him. His gaze was sharp. Not angry, but sharp. “I’m your uncle. It’s my job to–” 

She didn’t let him finish whatever self-righteous rant he was about to launch into.

Instead, she reached up, grasped his face in her hands, and kissed him. 

Hard.

This wasn’t about testing the waters. It was about diving in. Head first, full throttle.

She kissed him with everything she had, with everything she’d been holding back. Weeks of tension, stolen glances, breathless nights, and wordless wanting. She poured it all into a kiss that said: I’m here. I’m not afraid. And you shouldn’t be either.

Still, as her mouth moved against his, she fully expected him to push her back. To double down on why this was wrong and bad and could never happen. 

To her surprise, Miles made a sound in the back of his throat, something low and hungry. 

And then the dam finally broke. 

He kissed her back with possessive force, mouth open, tongue sliding against hers. His hands found her waist, then her back, then her face. Like he couldn’t decide what part of her he needed more.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Charlie… ” he whispered, eyes closed.

“Shh.” She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to say anything, Miles. Just… don’t run.”

He was quiet for several seconds, forehead still touching hers, breath still a little ragged. Then he swallowed. “Okay.”

Her stomach and her heart flipped in the most delightful way. 

She’d dreamed about this, about the moment he’d finally stop fighting it.

She just never thought it would actually happen or feel like this.

So quiet. So sure.

One word. One kiss. One breath that didn’t hurt to take.

Okay.

That’s all he’d said, but Charlie knew. Miles meant it. 

And just like that, he was hers.

– – –

They sat around the fire again after dinner, the flames lazily flickering while crickets chirped in the woods beyond. Charlie was tucked into the curve of Miles’s arm, her legs draped across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb absently traced soft, slow circles against the inside of her knee.

She still couldn’t believe it; the way he wasn’t flinching, the way he let her touch him, hold him, be close without acting like he was about to bolt into the trees and disappear forever.

Bass, who had just come out of his tent after changing into sweats, gave them both a knowing look as he dropped into a chair.

“Well, would’ya look at that. The Grinch finally grew a heart. Nice work, Cindy Lou Who.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “How long have you been workshopping that one?”

“Since June.” He grinned shamelessly.

Nora leaned forward with a grin of her own. “We’re just saying. Some of us may have orchestrated this whole trip specifically to make this happen.”

“Naw, really?” Miles snarked. “Could’a fooled me.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “It worked, though, didn’t it?”   

“You two seriously need a life,” Miles grumbled. 

“I believe the correct response is: Thank you, Bass. Thank you Nora,” Nora teased. 

Miles muttered something under his breath and pulled Charlie in closer, pressing a kiss to her temple without thinking. She just sighed and snuggled closer. 

“You two are so gross now,” Bass said, dramatically pretending to gag. “God, I miss the unresolved sexual tension already.”

“Shut up, Monroe,” Nora, Charlie, and Miles all said in unison.

“Jeez. Okay,” he laughed. 

The chatter and teasing continued for a bit longer until the fire started to die and they had finished off another bottle of wine. 

Finally, Nora stretched and yawned. “Alright. I need like ten hours of sleep if I’m going to survive the drive home with you idiots tomorrow. Let’s go, Monroe.”

“Coming, mi capitana.” Bass gave Miles a quick slap on the shoulder as he passed. “Try not to snore too loud, old man.”

Miles rolled his eyes and shoved him away.

The plan to switch tents had been fully abandoned, so Miles and Charlie slipped into the small tent a few minutes later, a tangle of elbows and zippers and hushed laughter. It felt easier and lighter tonight. Because tonight, they weren’t pretending.

Charlie crawled into her sleeping bag but didn’t zip it up. A flirty little smirk formed on her face as she turned toward him. “You gonna stay over there in your little guilt zone? Or can I come over there and steal your body heat again?”

He rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically, and unzipped his bag without a word. She flashed him a smile and crawled into it with him. It was warm, and narrow, and she had to curl into his chest just to fit. He felt her sigh contentedly as he wrapped his arms around her and let her tuck her head under his chin.

“Goodnight, Uncle Miles,” she mumbled into his chest and burrowed deeper.

Miles smirked and held her tighter. “Goodnight, troublemaker.” 

Chapter Text

The drive home from the campground was warm and easy, filled with the group’s usual chatter and shenanigans. Nora drove with Bass in the front passenger seat as her co-pilot and playlist jockey, and Miles and Charlie sat in the back. This time, when their knees bumped or their hands touched, there wasn’t any tension; just soft, resigned smiles and quiet, knowing glances as their new reality settled between them like a blanket pulled over two people who were finally ready to rest.

Charlie eventually drifted off, curled up against her duffle bag while Miles gazed out the window, lost in thought. It was mid-afternoon when they pulled into the driveway of the lake house. The lake shimmered beyond the trees, quiet and undisturbed, like it hadn’t even noticed they’d been gone.

Bass was already hopping out of the front seat and hauling the hatchback open. “Alright, everybody out. I got recording stuff to prep and beer in the fridge with my name on it.”

Nora stepped out next, adjusting her sunglasses and stretching her arms overhead. “God, I love not showering for three days. Makes the re-entry so dramatic.”

Charlie laughed and met her halfway around the car. Nora pulled her in for a long, warm hug.

“You good?” She murmured into her hair.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”

Nora leaned back, gave her a look that said they’d talk more later, then moved toward the trunk to unload a few things.

Bass gave Miles a once-over, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Try not to screw this up, Romeo.”

Miles gave him a dry look. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“What, and miss watching you turn from the beast back into a prince? Not a chance.”

Nora, who had already gotten back in the car, rolled down her window. “Get in, or you’re walking home, Monroe.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” he said, throwing Miles and Charlie one last salute and a smirk. 

They stood in the drive, watching as the SUV kicked up gravel before slowly driving away.

Charlie glanced sideways at him. “Well. I’d say that was a successful weekend.”

Miles let out a low, short laugh. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

He opened the front door, and they stepped inside.

Charlie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting the quiet, serene energy of the house radiate through her. “Home, sweet home,” she sighed.

Miles didn’t say anything but casually dropped a kiss on the top of her head before heading upstairs to take a shower.  

She busied herself with unpacking and laundry, her mind still churning with a million different thoughts about how everything had changed.

Later, after they’d both showered, she padded into the kitchen, hair damp and tangled, to find Miles scrolling on his phone.

“Pizza or Chinese?” he asked, not looking up.

“Chinese.” She nodded. 

Thirty minutes later, dinner came in brown paper bags, and they ate on the porch. They sat close, talking and teasing and openly flirting in the golden light of early evening. It felt easy. New in some ways, but completely familiar in others. 

Afterward, they ended up on the couch, half-watching some old movie while she snuggled into his side. At some point, her legs draped over his lap, and he didn’t move them. When he trailed his fingers up and down her spine, she squirmed like a sleepy kitten and shifted closer.   

Before the credits even rolled, they dozed off right there, sunk into the cushions.

Miles stirred first. “Come on,” he murmured against her temple. “Let’s go up.”

She followed him, blinking sleepily as they climbed the stairs.

At the top of the landing, he stopped and turned to look at her. She stood before him, barefoot and rumpled and looking impossibly lovely in the low light.

He leaned in and kissed her goodnight.

She kissed him back, savoring the slow, soft press of his lips against hers as she reached out to palm his cheek, his stubble brushing against her hand. 

“Goodnight,” she said quietly when they pulled apart.

“Night,” he replied and watched as she padded into her room and softly closed her door.

He’d only been in bed for about five minutes, absently staring at the ceiling, when she quietly pushed his door open.

He looked over and noted the almost coy expression on her face. “Everything okay?”

She nodded and hovered in the doorway for a moment. “Can I sleep in here?”

She sounded so young and sweet and trusting that for a split second, that ugly, self-loathing part of him tried to swim back up to the surface. The voice in his head tried to tell him he didn’t deserve this, deserve her, that he’d inevitably break her like he had everything else in his life.  

But for once in his life, Miles Matheson chose to ignore that voice. 

“Come here,” he said.

And even in the dark, he saw the curve of her smile as she stepped into the room and slipped beneath the covers, curling into him without hesitation. She laid her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair.

Before long, they were both fast asleep.

– – –

Charlie wasn’t sure what time it was when she blinked awake the next morning, but the light was soft and golden as it filtered into the room. 

Miles was still asleep beside her. His arm was around her, heavy and warm, and she could hear his heartbeat as she nuzzled her cheek against his chest. 

She let her eyes flutter closed again, just for a minute. Just to savor it. Because waking up like this – with him – felt like a dream she never would’ve expected to come true.

Eventually, he stirred. His hand shifted on her back, fingers flexing slightly as he woke up. She didn’t move.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice extra gravelly with sleep.

She smiled against his chest. “Hi.”

They lay there for a while, wrapped in the morning silence. His hand slipped into her hair, combing out the strands, and she let out a small, pleased sound at the feeling.

“I could get used to this,” she said.

“You already have,” he teased, eyes still closed.

Charlie tilted her head up and kissed his jaw. Then his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth. “That a problem?”

He opened one eye to look at her. “Only if you hog the covers every night.”

“Well, that’s a given,” she giggled. 

He playfully poked her in the side and she giggled a little harder. 

They eventually made their way downstairs sometime after ten, still in their pajamas, trading soft touches and stolen glances in the kitchen as they made coffee and scrounged together a simple breakfast of fruit and some leftover pastries.

They were mid-way through splitting a muffin when they heard a key jingling in the front door.

“Knock, knock, lovebirds!” Bass’s voice rang out.

Miles groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. “I forgot he was coming over to record today.”

Bass waltzed into the kitchen, holding an iced coffee in one hand and his guitar case in the other.

“Well, well, well. Look at you two.” He raised his coffee in salute. “All cozy in post-coital domestic bliss.”

Miles shot him a warning look.

Charlie just raised an eyebrow. “We made coffee and split a muffin. Calm down, Monroe.”

“Huh. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Bass sipped his drink. “I’m just saying, it smells like sex and cinnamon rolls in here.”

“It does not!” Charlie shrieked, her cheeks burning red as she chucked a bite of her muffin at him.

Miles got up to shove Bass down the hall toward the studio. “Go make yourself useful. Dumbass.” 

Charlie laughed and shook her head, watching as Miles practically man-handled Bass. And even though she knew Bass was just trying to get a rise out of them, his comments did get her thinking. 

About sex.

With Miles.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then picked up her phone and texted Nora.