❝And for her, he burned.❞ When his mate leaves him behind at the palace, Lester finds himself working to the brink of deterioration. Everything reminds him of Dahlia, the shewolf he's in love with. Overwhelmed, Lester moves out to a small town where...
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By the time Charlie had arrived, Lester had started fuming at his attempts to fix his bike. If he looked in the mirror, he swore metaphorical steam would be coming out of his ears – he knew his face was red. It had been a while since he'd been so pissed off at anything.
She pulled up in her rusty old G-wagon, the engine stuttering to a halt. Charlie's signature tattered, brown work boots flattened the leaves in her wake. "So, what's this all about?"
Lester stood, abandoning the tree he'd been leaning against to go meet her. He had called her as a nearly last resort, the shame still burning up his neck. He gestured to the sad-looking bike leaned against a tree in the yard. Mortification was surely written all over his face.
"You're kidding," Charlie said, her eyes widening.
"I'm sure as hell not asking Ayden about this. At least you won't laugh at me," Lester said, ducking his head. He couldn't even meet her eyes at the favor, feeling ridiculous. A leader of a country that couldn't fix his own bike. It was disgraceful.
"You've never had a bike?" Charlie made her way over with a frown, getting right down onto her knees and examining his handy work before whistling. "You did a number on this one."
"I do not want to hear it."
He'd bought the bike blindly, and it was far from brand-new. Not that he'd understood how to examine it before paying cash up front and driving off with it. While Lester had paid for a flawed gem in the first place, he had only proceeded to help it on its seemingly inevitable journey to the dump.
"How'd you grow up again?"
Lester bristled slightly at the connotation. Then he let his shoulders slump with a sigh. "With too much, apparently."
Charlie let the bike go and stood up, her hands on her hips. "You're telling me you've never had to fix one single goddamn thing in your life. Never had a bike, nothing? Lester Raure. I should laugh."
He cringed. "I mean, it's laughable. What kind of man doesn't know how to fix a bike?"
"One with no childhood," Charlie replied without skipping a beat, going to her car and pulling out a wrench to start loosening a screw with.
"Ouch," Lester said, but didn't bother denying it.
"What did you spend your time doing?" she asked as she tinkered with it, and he returned to his spot against the tree on her other side, trying to bend over to catch a glimpse of what she was doing. He'd always known that Charlie was good with things, but never like this. Her hands flew and her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Her curly hair splayed out everywhere, her freckles were so prominent against her skin that they looked like they were trying to escape. With a start, Lester realized he was staring. He averted his gaze, glad she hadn't noticed.
Lester was grateful to somehow have someone by his side that would come over to deal with his messes with him. In a place like Nyore, that was surely hard to come by.
Lester had bought a bike with the intention of properly learning how to ride it, but the only thing he'd been able to find in town was a beat-up old one that needed some fixing. Overconfident, he had assumed that with a few manuals from the local library he'd be alright – that hadn't been the case. Asking for help like this had turned out to be more than a knock to his ego, but he was lost on the mechanics the moment he had started to tinker with it.
In comparison, Charlie was a whiz.
"Done," she announced, and his jaw fell to the ground as she stood up with a lopsided grin. "You just misaligned the handlebars and then tangled up the brakes. I unscrewed this part here," she pointed at the part where the bars connected to the frame, "readjusted, and then screwed it back in really tightly. Then for the brakes, I just untangled it and made sure they were connected alright. I also played with the tension, so they might not be perfect, but they should be pretty good now. Try it out."
Lester's lips pressed into a line as he looked at her helplessly.
A moment passed before her expectant expression dropped into a shocked one. "You're kidding."
"That's the second time you've said that to my face in the past fifteen minutes," Lester said, making eye contact with her. "I just picked this bike up. I'm not really sure why you're surprised."
"I've gotten over my surprise, get on the bike," Charlie ordered, holding it out for him so he could climb on.
For the remainder of the afternoon, she showed him everything involving the bike. This included how to do basic maintenance, ride it, and not crash. All very important things. Turned out that bikes were a tad more complicated than Lester had originally assumed. With Charlie's help, he had a handle on everything by the end of the day.
When the last rays of sunlight descended and the cold crept into their bones, the two agreed to call it a night. Charlie didn't feel like driving back, so they ate quickly before crawling into his bed to curl up under the blankets.
"I'm never letting you live that down," Charlie murmured, her voice low. "I taught the former King, Lester Raure, how to use a bike. Hilarious."
"In my defense, I spent my time doing other things."
"Other things?"
"I learned to fight from an early age. How to lead, how to do important paperwork, how to be diplomatic, how to negotiate. How to deal with people." Lester paused. "How to pretend I know what I'm doing. You know, useful things."
She pointedly ignored the last jab. Charlie put her cheek against his shoulder, scooting closer for warmth. "You don't know what you're doing all the time?" she asked, referring to his bluffing. He could practically hear the smile in her voice at the question.
"Fuck no," Lester said softly. It was a given. "But everyone expects me to."
"I'd never expect that from anyone. Not even King El Raure," Charlie said, letting out a huge yawn. Her cheeks colored slightly at the action. Of all things she blushed at, it was over her yawning.
"Thanks."
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about that," she said, and he could feel her eyelashes falling against his shoulder as her eyes shut. Her voice came out bleary. "That doesn't sound fun."
Lester was wide awake, laying on his back as he stared at the ceiling. It wasn't long until Charlie slept by his side, her quiet snores keeping the silence at bay. He pulled their shared blanket higher. Lester didn't answer her, staring up unblinkingly. A tear rolled down the other side of his cheek, and his lips parted.
No, he thought, it wasn't fun.
Moonlight filtered in through the window next to them, caressing their unmoving forms. Lester watched the stars. If only they could give him the answers he needed. If only She could.
Lester considered himself a man of faith, but was he truly such? How could he be, when he didn't dare turn to even the Goddess for help most of the time? His left hand clenched by his side. His chest rose and fell. Charlie remained undisturbed on his right.
While Lester trusted himself, sometimes he needed someone by his side on nights like this. Someone more concrete than a Goddess.
He couldn't be Dallon's replacement. He couldn't be Dahlia's mate. Who was he meant to be?
⋄ controversial question: do we ship charlie and lester?? so curious to hear your thoughts
hope everyone has been having a good march so far xx
