Page 12 of Wild Child
“Not as wild as you.”
Charlie cocks her head, and a smile plays on her lips. “I’m not as wild as my dad thinks I am.”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “So you didn’t ride across the country on your own to get to his wedding?”
Charlie shrugs. “Oh yeah, I did that.”
I shake my head. Raiden was happy when his daughter turned up for his wedding but furious when he found out how she got here. A three day road trip on her own. All the way from California biking alone on the roads and staying in cheap roadside motels.
“I’m independent. I’ll claim that. But I’m not wild.”
“Careless is what that is. A woman riding on her own.”
She sticks her chin out, and her eyes flash dangerously. “You think because I’m a woman I shouldn’t do things on my own?”
“I think there are a lot of assholes out there who could do you harm.”
“Perhaps.” She pokes at the egg in her sandwich. “I think there’s a lot of fear out there. And I refuse to put restrictions on myself because there may be a bad man lurking.”
Anything could have happened to Charlie on the roads. Her bike could have gotten a flat, she might have had an accident. It’s not just the fact that she’s a woman biking alone. Long distance riding alone is dangerous for anyone.
“Anything could have happened.”
“But it didn’t.”
I run my hand through my hair in exasperation. She’s lucky nothing happened.
“Why did you decide to stay anyway? Why not go back to Santa Cruz?”
Charlie takes a bite of sandwich and takes her time chewing before answering. “Dad wasn’t around much when I was growing up,” she says quietly.
It’s true. The military life is hard on families, and in the early days we were deployed for long stretches in Iraq. It put huge pressure on his new family.
Raiden and I were in the same platoon. Both sergeants working up the ranks, we became good friends.
I remember the day he got the call from his ex-wife, Charlie’s mom, telling him she was moving back to California with Charlie. Raiden was devastated, but there’s not a lot you can do from a war zone.
By the time he got out of the military, Charlie was sixteen and making her own choices.
“It’s nice to get to know him again,” she says quietly. “It’s different here than California.”
She looks like she wants to say more and I wait, but she crumples the empty sandwich wrapper and stands up.
“Is there somewhere to get a coffee for the road?”
The smile is back that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, and I wonder what haunts her from California.
I’m only her father’s friend, the bossy ex-sergeant who disapproves of her choices. Only I don’t disapprove. The more time I spend with Charlie, I approve of her very much.
6
QUENTIN
My lower back aches from too long in the driver’s seat. I’m used to the freedom of a bike, and sitting up here is torture. If it wasn’t for Charlie beside me, I’d probably give it up and drive home.
She offered to drive, but after an hour of her breaking every speed limit, I took the wheel back.
She put her headphones in sometime after dinner. We couldn’t agree on music we both liked. And sometime past the Oklahoma state line, she fell asleep.
