Page 19 of Unearthed Dreams (Sable Point #3)

“No!” Her eyes flew to mine, wide and earnest. “I just... I wanted to explore how someone with centuries of experience would handle falling for someone so new to everything. How he’d have to be so careful, so aware of her inexperience, but also respect her ability to make her own choices...”

The parallel wasn’t lost on either of us.

“Charlie...”

She stared at the manuscript, fingers tracing my messy handwriting in the margins, her shoulders bunched, and gnawing at her bottom lip.

“It’s stupid,” she muttered. “I mean, ten years isn’t five centuries.”

I barked out a laugh, harsh and sudden in the quiet bar. “No, but sometimes it feels like it.”

Those stormy eyes snapped to mine. “Why?”

Christ. How could I explain the weight of everything I’d lived through? The foster homes, the drugs, watching the woman I’d loved spiral into addiction, Billy’s decline...

But she was still watching me with those clear blue eyes, waiting. No judgment, just... curiosity. Understanding.

“Because at your age...” I ran a hand through my hair, struggling to find the right words. “At your age, I was already married. Already fucked up in ways you can’t imagine.”

“So tell me.”

The simple request knocked the air from my lungs. Three words, spoken so softly, held the weight of everything I’d been trying to avoid.

I studied her face—so open, so earnest. No one had ever just... asked. Not like this. Not with genuine interest instead of morbid curiosity.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Yes, I do.” Steel lined her voice. “I want to know you. All of you. Not just the parts you think are safe to show me.”

This girl. This fucking girl who wrote about immortal commanders learning to trust, about age gaps and experience gaps and somehow made it all make sense...

“The things I’ve done, Charlie...” I leaned back, putting distance between us. “The person I was...”

“Was,” she emphasized, leaning forward to close the gap I’d tried to create. “Past tense. Just like my commander had centuries of violence in his past. Doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve love.”

A harsh laugh escaped me. “You comparing me to your hero?”

“No.” Those blue eyes held mine steadily. “My hero is fictional. You’re real. And real is... messier. More complicated. But also more worth it.”

The quiet conviction in her voice undid me.

Here was this girl—this brilliant, beautiful girl—who could have anyone. That Trevor kid. Some young college graduate with a clean past and bright future. Instead, she was looking at me like... like I was worth something.

“You write fantasy,” I said finally. “Happy endings.”

“Yes.” She reached across the table, her small hand covering mine. “Because I believe in them.”

I stared at our hands—hers so small and delicate against mine. Hands that had never known violence. Never thrown a punch or pushed a needle into a vein. Never buried a wife who’d chosen a motorcycle ride with her lover over coming home.

“Charlie...”

“I’m not asking for your whole life story right now.” She squeezed my hand. “Just... let me in. A little at a time.”

She held my eyes, patient but determined. Like she’d wait forever for me to find the words.

“I met Kelsey in foster care,” I started. “We were thirteen.”

Her thumb traced gentle circles on my skin, grounding me. Not pushing, just... there.

“She was wild. Beautiful. Dangerous.” The memories rose like ghosts. “We got married at eighteen. Thought we could save each other.”

“But you couldn’t,” she said softly.

“No.” My laugh came out bitter. “Can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving.”

Charlie was quiet for a long moment, those blue eyes thoughtful. “Is that why you push people away? Because you couldn’t save her?”

The question didn’t just land—it leveled me. Jesus, how did she do that? See straight through my bullshit to the heart of things?

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “You’re too perceptive for your own good, you know that?”

“Maybe you’re just not as hard to read as you think.” Her voice was gentle, but those blue eyes missed nothing. “The way you keep everyone at arm’s length, even in a town this small. How you take care of Billy even though...” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“Even though his daughter broke my heart?” The words tasted bitter. “Even though she chose drugs and other men over me? Over us?”

Charlie’s fingers tightened on mine. “Even though it would be easier to walk away.”

“Fuck.” The truth in her words squeezed my chest. “How are you so wise?”

“I’m not.” She shrugged, but there was something fierce in her expression. “I just... I see you, Kai. The real you. Not the brooding bartender others see.”

My throat felt tight. “And what do you see?”

“Someone who’s trying so hard to be the villain in his own story.” She leaned forward, blue eyes intense. “But you’re not. You’re the hero who’s forgotten he deserves his own happy ending.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. No one had ever looked at me like this—like they could see past every wall, every defense, straight to the broken pieces I’d tried so hard to hide.

And instead of running, she was holding on tighter.

I pulled my hand from hers, standing abruptly. Her face fell—just for a heartbeat—before I stood and rounded the table, sliding in beside her. Her eyes widened as I cupped her face, gently tilting it toward me.

“You make me want things I shouldn’t,” I whispered, thumb brushing across her bottom lip.

“Like what?”

“Like a future. Like happy endings.”

The sound of voices outside the bar had us jumping apart. Charlie grabbed her manuscript, clutching it to her chest as the shadows of people walking past darkened the windows .

“Back door,” I muttered, already pulling her toward the storage room. “Quick.”

She paused at the door, looking at me over her shoulder. “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll let me show you that you deserve a happy ending too.”

At my shaky nod, she slipped out into the alley, leaving me to wonder what the hell I was going to do about this girl who’d somehow made me believe in impossible dreams.