Extra Bonus #90: Westward With Charlie (Patreon)

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only.  Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

CONSISTENCY: If you're looking to read the bonus scenes in chronological order,  Driving Out West  can be read before this bonus for more context.

MUSIC: We listened to “Going on” by Gnarls Barkley while writing this bonus.  

MIDWAY THOUGH THE FLIGHT to Wisconsin, I see Charlie unbuckle and retreat to the back cabin. Concern flares in my chest. He’s been favoring his right leg, and he noticeably winced boarding the plane earlier. 

So I decide to check on my cousin.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Farrow, who has our son in the crook of his arms. Ripley is fast asleep with parted lips and a thin line of drool. Farrow mops it up with a burp cloth and nods me on.

I unclip my seatbelt and slip out of the spacious row.

We’re not flying commercial.

It’s a private flight with several areas of white plush leather chairs, a mini bar that mostly houses soda and water, and one bedroom. It’s not Heathcliff—which is the Cobalts’ massive private jet. It only makes sense to use Heathcliff if over a dozen people are on the manifest.

The headcount on this trip out west to see Sulli: six adults, one baby, and one dog. So we took my parents’ smaller plane.

Making my way to the cabin, I pass Arkham, who’s claimed his own leather white chair. My brown-furred Newfie pops up his head as I pass. I give him a little scratch behind the ears. “Good boy,” I whisper, the plane quiet. Jane even fell asleep, her head on Thatcher’s arm while he texts on his phone.

Oscar is conked out towards the rear with earbuds in. I doubt he saw Charlie sneak soundlessly into the back.

Once I slip inside, I shut the door behind me, and I notice Charlie plopping down on the full-sized bed with a water bottle in hand.

“You okay?” I ask him.

He smiles a tight smile—a pill clenched between his teeth—then downs it with a swig of water. “It hurts to walk. Hurts to be cramped on a plane. Hurts sitting. But I can’t complain.” He twists the cap back on the water bottle, then chucks it behind him on the bed. “I did it to myself.”

While turbulence rattles the cabin, I hold on to the doorknob. “I don’t remember the car accident ever being your fault.”

He stares blankly at me. “I meant ten days ago. At the carnival.”

I gesture to him. “You were jumped.” And obviously his injury from the car accident was reinjured that night.

“I ditched my temp bodyguard. I did it to myself.” He scoots back on the bed and stretches out his right leg with a clear wince. 

“There might be ice in the fridge.” I go over to the mini-fridge and check the small freezer compartment. No ice. I stand up. “I can go get Farrow—”

“Don’t bother. I took a Tylenol. I’ll be fine.” Charlie watches me like a hawk as I sit on the vacant plush leather chair. “Not rushing back to your husband? Trouble in matrimony already? Hasn’t it been five seconds?”

“Three months,” I correct, not able to hide a smile. “And we’re good. Really good.” 

“I’m so happy for you,” Charlie says dryly. He claps for me with a mocking end note. 

It doesn’t cut under my skin like it used to. “One day it might be you, you know.”

“No, it won’t be.”

“You don’t think you’ll ever get married?”

“Not to a man.” He cocks his head with a slanted wiseass smile.

I laugh.

Charlie smiles more and leans back on his hands. “She’s going to get herself killed, you know.”

It slices through the levity. Sometimes I think that’s Charlie’s specialty. Cutting through light-hearted moments with serrated edges. “We don’t know that,” I tell him tensely. “We’re all here to support Sulli. She’s been there for us so many times in the past year and a half alone.”

Charlie doesn’t deny that. “I’m also here to get her to stop icing out my brother. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’ll likely die if she actually climbs Ryke’s old routes without a rope and harness. She’s not her father. Just like I’m not my father. You aren’t your father.” He gasps. “Imagine that. We’re not all carbon copies of our parents. Who would’ve thought?”

“Not the internet.”

He lets out a brittle laugh, which morphs into a grimace. “Fuck the internet.”

I smile. “So damn eloquent of you.”

“I have my moments.” His lip tics up before he digs in his pocket for a pill bottle. He pops another Tylenol in his mouth and reaches backwards for the water bottle that’s nestled among the pillows.

After he washes it down, I tell him, “Ryke taught her everything he knows about free-soloing, Charlie. Sulli does have his skill.”

He stares at the closed window shade. “I’m not watching her climb a stupid rock.” I hear, I’m not watching her die.

I nod. “She’ll get it.”

“She won’t. But I don’t need her to.”

 It’s the last heavy conversation we have before I return to Farrow. Trying not to wake up our baby, I just nod to him that all is well. He touches the back of my head more affectionately, and I smother a smile so he doesn’t think I’m overly obsessed with his hand.

I’d say it’s a mega-success—if he wasn’t smiling back like I just nutted over the simplest, most chaste fucking touch known to man.

I mouth, fuck off.

He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

I stifle a groan, blood coursing hotter. He’s laughing—actually, he’s trying to control his laughter because Rip is still in his arms.

I flip him off, then stretch my arm over his shoulders. Our eyes caress for a strong beat, and I lick my lips, feeling another smile return.

It really is the simple moments.

The simple, little things.

The rest of the flight goes smoothly. Upon landing, I’m gathering my duffel and Ripley’s diaper bag out of the overhead bin, and Charlie comes up behind me to ask, “You mind if I ride with you and Farrow?”

I blink.

Wow, am I still on Earth? Feels like I teleported out of this world for a second. I blink again, and I’m certain it’s Earth-616 and Charlie is seriously, realistically, honestly asking to ride with me on this road trip to Montana.

You’d be more shocked than I am in this moment, considering you are most definitely aware we’ve butted heads once…or fifteen-hundred times. Going at each other during the FanCon tour Q&As pretty much painted our relationship in the correct shades of gray.

Six months ago, I also would’ve been just as floored. Because he has other options.

He can rent his own car. He can have Oscar drive him if he doesn’t want to get behind the wheel.

Or he can hop in Jane’s SUV. I thought he’d ride with her and Thatcher since my car comes with my husband, my kid, and my dog.

Six months ago, I would’ve probably believed he was plotting to strangle me from the backseat.

Now, I don’t think that. 

I think he might even like sharing my company.

I think he can stand being around me. Likewise, I like being around him. I feel like I have my cousin back—but maybe he was always there. Maybe I needed to find him as much as he needed to find me.

We might still not always see eye-to-eye on every damn thing, but Charlie isn’t someone who wants people to parrot him. I know I don’t need to agree with him to have a good relationship with him. And I’m not taking these calm swells between us for granted. Water used to be so rough to where I felt like I could drown him, like maybe he wanted me to just end it, and I’m so fucking happy we didn’t reach that fatal place.

I hope we never do.

So I’m not fainting in shock, but yeah, surprise still hits me. 

I smile. “Of course you can ride with us. But just to warn you, I’m driving.” Farrow is too far ahead of me to hear this declaration.

“I don’t care,” Charlie says, more naturally blasé than my youngest sister tries to be. 

Jane and Thatcher are already on the tarmac where a limo service will take us to the car rentals. I grab Arkham’s leash and follow Farrow out. I wish I led the way—but the need to be out in front and one-up my husband in any small way goes to the wayside as my conversation replays over and over in my brain.

He’s right behind me, so I turn to ask my cousin, “You really don’t want to ride with Janie?”

He slides his phone in his back pocket. “And listen to wedding talk for hours on end? You could just break my other leg. It’d be less painful.”

Jesus. “You’d rather be roadkill than hear about her wedding?”

“Any wedding. Hers isn’t particularly special regarding my disdain.” He already looks annoyed.

“You could ask her not to talk about it, Charlie. She wouldn’t care.”

“Or I could just ride with you,” he says simply.

And it does mean something to me. He’s smart enough to know he can rent another car and ride in solitary with Oscar. In the end, he’s choosing to be with me.

My chest rises, feeling like we’re on a better path together. I’m not even imagining it getting washed out. I smile bigger back at him, then continue forward. Glancing back only one more time to ask, “Are you planning to tell Jane?”

“She’ll figure it out.”

I leave it at that, knowing Jane and Charlie have their own thing. Their own dynamic. One that sometimes involves reading between the lines. One that has far less scar tissue than ours.

Okay, so…I’m not driving. Yet. Farrow and I agreed that we’d switch off. On this first leg, I’m relegated to the passenger seat while Farrow drives with one hand.

It’s hot how his inked fingers just casually grip the wheel, but I’m not thinking about that. It’s barely on the brain. What I am thinking about is how Charlie wanted to sit in the second row. The luxury SUV has captain’s chairs, so he’s not squashed beside my eight-month-old, but he is right next to him. Ripley is awake in the rear-facing car seat and rattles a teething ring.

Charlie could’ve chosen the third row, but I’m guessing he didn’t want his leg to be squashed back there. There’s not much room even sprawling out longways.

I offered Oscar the passenger seat, too, but he rejected it. I swear Farrow gave him a look, and Oscar wore this grin I couldn’t understand. I’m not descending into the meaning of it. Seriously.

“Nap number two. Wake me when we’re at the motel, Redford,” Oscar calls up to the front and gets comfortable in the backseat with a neck pillow and earplugs. We’re surprising Sulli at her motel pit stop, but we have a hotel booked about a half hour from there.

Farrow switches on his brights as he turns onto a dark, rustic two-lane road, woods on either side. He’s chewing on gum and tells me casually, “Watch for deer.”

“I’m fine not being behind the wheel,” I tell him. “I don’t need a task to distract me from being the passenger.”

He glances over at me, then back to the road. “I just meant to watch for deer.”

I go rigid and burn hits my cheeks. His cool confidence runs circles around me in this moment, and I suddenly feel my age. “Yeah, I knew that.”

His aggravating smile stretches from cheek-to-cheek.

I internally groan. “Maybe I should just fling myself out of this car.”

He picks up his energy drink from the cup holder. “I’d rather hit a deer,” he says into a sip. It pumps blood straight to my cock. God, why do I have to be so fucking attracted to everything he does? I’m not.

I’m not. 

I need to concentrate on things outside of Farrow right now. 

My Newfie lets out a soft woof, then lies back in the space between the captain’s chairs. Thank you, Arkham.

Charlie side-eyes the dog before catching my gaze while I look backwards. “What’s taking you so long?”

Confusion knits my brows. “About what?”

“The CEO position. It’s there. It’s yours. Take it.” Charlie doesn’t want to be interim CEO of H.M.C. Philanthropies for that long, but it also hasn’t been that long since he ousted Ernest and offered this to me.

“It’s been less than ten days, Charlie. I’m still thinking it over.”

“What more is there to think about? You love helping people. You love giving back. And you love the attention.”

Farrow chews his gum harder. The comment irritates him more than it does me. He’s said he’s “cautiously optimistic” about my relationship with Charlie and about this car ride with him, in particular, but I have a feeling he’s more cautious than optimistic.

“Do I love the attention?” I scrunch my face. “Because I’m pretty sure I’d be completely fine if I wasn’t the center of anything.”

Charlie holds my gaze. “Regardless, you were made for philanthropy. It suffers without you.”

I wonder if this is his attempt to push me back into the position so he can leave it faster. But I’m trying not to jump to bad conclusions concerning Charlie. I want to think better of him first.

“I made peace with the fact that my life would be easier,” I tell Charlie. “Teaching kids to swim at the Aquatic Center is still rewarding.”

“But you can do more,” Charlie reasons. “You can help ten times as many people through charity work.”

“It survives without me,” I tell him. “Even if you step down, the board will find someone capable as CEO.”

“And if you leave the Aquatic Center, they’ll easily fill your position with a hundred other people who are just as good at the job. But there are far less applicants who could fulfill the CEO role like you can. Who’d enjoy it like you would.”

I get all of that, but I keep falling back on the reason why I was okay with the loss in the end. Taking on less—that was the plan. But there is a part of me that thrives on the challenge. That likes the extra responsibility.

“Yeah, maybe,” I mumble, facing forward.

Farrow’s eyes flicker to me, then to the road. My mind is reeling. I have opened up to my husband about this new life decision.

I told him, “I don’t want the sole reason I return to be because I’m afraid that an Ernest 2.0 will destroy the philanthropy. I don’t want fear to guide me. But I am afraid of it. I know it’s best if all the money is protected with a family member in the driver’s seat.”

He smiled softly at me. “You do love to drive.”

I like being in control.

Could I even stomach someone else running the philanthropy into the ground? Would I regret it if I didn’t take the opportunity now?

It felt like Farrow could see that I might, but he wasn’t trying to sway me one way or the other. He’s just wanted me to go with my gut. He’d be happy with whatever I choose.

I blink a few times, trying to wrench out of my thoughts, and I check the video monitor on the dash, which shows a content Ripley in his car seat. He’s abandoned his teething rings and instead grips Charlie’s pinky.

Charlie entertains him with the rings on his fingers, and Ripley blows a raspberry and babbles very, very quietly, a little shy. But he doesn’t want to let go of Charlie.

“Uncle Charlie has such cool rings, doesn’t he?” I tell Ripley.

Ripley smiles a little more at Charlie. A bashful, happy smile. It floods my chest, and Charlie’s lips lift at my son.

Farrow sees the dash cam. “You like kids?” he asks him.

“I don’t mind them.” He finds a burp cloth in a diaper bag and wipes a line of drool off Ripley’s soft cheek. “Does that shock you?”

“A little bit,” Farrow admits. “I thought you’d like them better once they can talk, at least.”

“I grew up around babies.” He sweeps Ripley’s angelic features. “It’s easy to hope for them to age-up. So they become more rational, more reasonable. But babies are…” He shakes his head once, then pries his hand away from Ripley.

“They’re what?” I ask him.

“Innocent. Fragile. Uncorrupted. And it’s your job to keep them that way, for a little while at least.” Charlie catches my gaze again. “Then they grow up and they realize the world is shit. People do asinine things, and life will go on with you or without you.”

“It’d feel like it’d stop if you left it,” I assure him. “For those of us who love you, it would. And you have a lot of those.”

“And that’s why you need to go back to the charity. So you can tell kids like Xander that. So they can hear it from you. You do have a way about you, Moffy, and it might annoy me nine times out of ten, but I’m the outlier. That’s the truth.”

I look over at my husband.

“He’s not wrong,” Farrow tells me.

I let out a sigh, then my phone rings. “Kinney’s calling.” I put her call through the car speakers and warn her that everyone can hear.

“Who’s everyone?” she asks.

I list out, “Farrow, Charlie, Oscar, Ripley, and Arkham.”

Farrow gives me a look for naming our dog. He might be near-laughter and on the verge of calling me a dork, but I flip him off.

“I can take you off speaker,” I remind her, in case she wants this to be private.

“The entire car should know that you all suck if you don’t advocate for me, Audrey, Nona, and Vada.”

I tense. What are we advocating? “Did you get in trouble with Mom and Dad?”

“No, they’re just being lame and not letting us join you again.”

“You have school,” Farrow says casually.

“No duh. But we also have this thing called weekends.”

Farrow tries not to laugh.

“I don’t even get why they’re so incessant on us staying behind.”

Charlie stretches his arm behind his headrest. “Could it be because you snuck out in Italy this summer?”

“You always sneak out,” Kinney retorts. “And you’re still allowed on this trip.”

“I’m not a child.”

“I’m about to be fifteen, you turd.”

“Then why are you acting like a baby?”

I shoot a glare at him. He rolls eyes at me like I’m being too soft on my sister.

“Moffy, throw him out of your car. Right now,” Kinney demands.

“Yeah, Moffy, throw me out of the car,” Charlie says nonchalantly. “Run me over while you’re at it.”

“Careful what you wish for, Wretch,” Kinney says. 

Charlie rolls his eyes even harder.

“No one is getting thrown out of the car,” I cut in. “Kinney, I’ll talk to Mom and Dad, but no promises. It hasn’t been that long since Italy, and they are still upset about it.”

“Fine. Thanks to everyone but Charlie.” She hangs up.

“Little sisters,” Charlie says in annoyance.

And I rotate back to the windshield. My pulse spikes. “Deer,” I tell Farrow as a slender doe leaps out into the middle of the road.

Farrow slams on the brakes. “Fuck.” The car jerks to a screeching halt.

Oscar goes crashing into the back of the second row, throttled awake. “Fucking—Redford.” He tears out his earplugs. “What the hell was that?”

“Sorry.” Farrow puts the car in park. “Everyone okay?”

I check on Ripley. He isn’t crying.

“He’s fine,” Charlie says as he opens the passenger door.

We didn’t hit the deer. It darted away, but Charlie is exiting. My pulse hasn’t come down. “Charlie?” I call out. “Where are you going?”

“To piss. Want to hold my hand?” He slams the door.

Jesus Christ. I get out. Not to join him. But I round the car to check on Ripley, and I notice Oscar climbing out of the very back. He follows Charlie.

I almost forgot he’s his bodyguard and not just Farrow’s friend.

Weird how much that has changed in my brain.

“Hey, little guy,” I greet Ripley.

He smiles up at me. Happy.

“You having a good time back here with Uncle Charlie?” I ask him.

Ripley babbles, and I make sure his diaper doesn’t need changed.

Farrow puts on the hazards and joins me outside. “I don’t like being out in the middle of the road.” The headlights illuminate the deserted two-lane street before us. It’s been us and the road for so many miles, but I understand the caution. 

“We can move the car to the bank if Charlie takes too long,” I tell him.

Farrow nods, then smiles at our son. “You’re doing so well, little man.”

Ripley gives him a bigger smile, I swear. He’s memorized by the tattoos on Farrow’s neck, even more on his fingers when he grabs hold of his hand.

Farrow kisses his cheek, then whispers to me, “You good?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“No shit,” he smiles.

I blink into a glare and try to move past that to say, “About being CEO again.”

Farrow’s face sobers into more seriousness. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking the biggest reason I hesitate to go back is that I don’t want to feel like I’m choosing work over our kid. Like I’m putting one responsibility of running a charity over the responsibility of raising him.”

“Man, it won’t be like that,” he says quietly. “You choosing to do something you love doesn’t negate your love or responsibility to our child. When he gets older, you might even want him to see you doing what fulfills you, Maximoff. Because you’re going to want that for him.”

I nod strongly, realizing he’s right. “Then I want it.”

Farrow smiles wider.

“You knew I would,” I realize.

“Yeah, because I know you, wolf scout.” He raises and lowers his brows. “Inside and out.”

I try not to smile back. “Sounds like your wet dream.”

He sucks in a breath. “Fairly sure that’s yours.” And he continues teasing me and I’m groaning back in aggravation as we reclaim our seats back in the car.

You should know that I wouldn’t want it any other way.  

Thank you so much for reading this month's extra bonus! And thank you for your patience with this one! We know it's dropping late on the last day of the month (if you live in the US), but we truly wanted to make sure it had everything we wanted in this scene. We really loved getting to show what's going on in the car with Moffy & Charlie. Their relationship over the series is one of our all-time favorites. We hope you enjoyed it!!

That's the last of the content for September, but with October right around the corner, you can expect more bonuses and more podcasts on the horizon!

All the love in every universe,

xoxo Krista & Becca

“Westward With Charlie," Copyright © 2024 by K.B. Ritchie