In last chapter, Charlie found out that Emma has a son, a kid. Connor. It has been a long day since then, and in last chapter we left Charlie, embracing Bass in a dark kitchen, standing between his thighs, his head against her warm stomach.

Chapter 7

Ben Matheson sat on the couch of the small home he an Rachel bought. Not that Rachel was here. She had gotten on a plane, irritated at the amount of time Miles was here, he wanted to spend with Bass. She was hardly here. They had bought it to give Danny fresh air and a change to connect with people they had moved away from at the promise of city life and ambitions. Those ambitions had led them far, projects about energy and organizing well fare, but also far from their loved ones. He was drinking. Remembering him, not thinking much of Rachel as he found himself do less and less so. Their marriage was crap. Almost done. They were holding on, because frankly, he could not put Charlie through much more.

Charlie, his eldest daughter. She had run into the house this morning. Asking for him, asking for Miles.

'Dad!' she had yelled, a strong voice with urgency.

She had looked shaken through when she had walked in.

'Charlie,' his voice a slow timbre, striding towards her.

She had stood before him.

He tilted his head towards her. 'Take a deep breath honey.'

'I...I think Emma is hiding something from Bass.'

'What are you talking about sweetheart?' He looked with his dark eyes towards his girl.

He had felt a timbre in the air roll towards them, a shift in air pressure around them.

'I think there is a kid.'

He had looked at her, tried to comfort her, hug her, but she would not allow. She was looking around for Miles, and he could see the little radars in her head tune into how this could be true and how they could Bass the truth.

There was a kid.

Ben and Miles had talked to Emma. They had to be sure.

Miles was with Emma. Charlie was with Bass. As he sat on the couch, needing a moment.

His little brother, big funny, strong, kind-hearted Sebastian, he had looked at him, when they brought him the news, when they had to tell his little brother the truth.

The little tip of her nose cold from the air outside, or maybe from the tears she has cried. The idea of Charlie crying eats at him, he can and could never see her cry. Not her. His arms wants to touch her. Hold her.

'I am so sorry Charlie.'

The scent that is Charlie encircles him, as he encircles her with his large strong arms.

'There is nothing to forgive.'

Charlie feels him, the shocks of his hurt and feeling of what he has gained as well. Connor, as she thinks about what he has lost, about the magnitude of love that is there waiting for him. To give. To receive.

And then she feels the grieve too, as his shocking turns into her own shocks. She tries to stop them. She really does. The first tears start to fall too within his embrace as the screeching of the chair legs go over the wood and he is one force as stands up and holds on to her.

Lifting her in his arms as he stands before her. Holding her. Holding him. In a dark kitchen.

'I am a father.' He mumbles in her hair. He tries the word.

He turns her so he can see her, and pushes some hair out of her face that has gotten caught in tears on her cheeks. Her eyelashes wet, her eyes so intense on him.

She meets him.

'Yeah, you are.' Her words are sure and with the fact that he can do this, and sweet and soft and with so much trust that he can do this, fulfil this task before him that he can only look at her.

'I'm so sorry, Charlie, after everything you did for me, you...' he presses his lips together in the gesture she knows belongs to him, his way to feel.

'I told you there is nothing to forgive.' Charlie says again, her face serious. Eyes she saves only for him. The look that makes him feel warm, like he has a place, always, to walk with her, by her side, with trust and someone willing to look at him.

'I had no right to talk to you like that, Charlie. I know I can never make it up but I have to try.'

'Shhh, don't.' Charlie says to him with firing calm eyes. Her hands now rubbing slowly over his side, liking the strength that lies in his muscles. She has always done so. The natural tone in his body. The way he can match her. Still be him, let her still be her, but compliment her with his strength to get out more of her softness.

Charlie understands. She has walked and walked after Danny died. Angry, lashing out. Hurting with words she wished she could take back.

She choose the people that she cared for most, because she felt safe with them.

'Stay with me,'

She hears the almost embarrassed tone in his voice, but also the tone that suggest that there is where she should be.

She answers with her eyes.

They make a fire in the garden, after he had slid into that jacket, black and strong leather, sit around it as he passes her another log of wood. As the night grows darker, they share the fire, sitting together, looking into the fire.

Miles sees the contours of his niece and best friend. It has been a long day. With Pete, with Emma. Connor not there, because that little kid does not need to take all this shit they had created. He has talked. And talked. Knowing he would not leave until he had gotten through. Because hell, his best friend, his brother, would not go without his kid any day longer. He knows now that it has been a decision with anger from parents who wanted another future for their kid, that turned into the truth, the lie living on. They would fix this shit. And not by running away, not with hiding the kid.

He sees her again. He sees Bass again. Charlie when she walked in with a devastated face that almost made him stop in his tracks, right before she would tell him and he would listen endlessly. Bass' face when they told him. Him and Ben. Charlie.

When Miles walks towards them, he sees his niece asleep against Bass' leather clad arm.

He will join them, pull an all nighter. It a small hand on Bass' shoulder before he sits down next to him.

But first, he walks over as he grabs a blanket from a chair for Charlie.

Two weeks move on. Two weeks were they realise they need to take this slow. For Connor. That kid has nothing to do with this endless mess, and how much Bass wants to see him, he knows the kid needs a time to adjust.

Grieves, the ropes entangled, untangle, slowly. He starts to get out of his bed. Eat. He is a dad now. It is a force, a magnitude that propels him forwards. The people in town are there. Charlie is. Oh Charlie. Always her..Ben, always here. Miles. Always there

Miss Cohen on the street, a wink she gave him since they were two. A warm smile with courage to move on for another minute.

And now, he sits here as tomorrow a part of his family comes back.

It is a late night, and he sits on the porch with Charlie. Not on the chairs, but on the wooden steps with a couple of blankets and pillows she dragged with her. She has always these nice ideas, although he would never see her care about things like too much make up or whine like other girls are so good at. Where it is him and Miles and Ben that always don't give a shit, as they just crash on the ground or steps or whatever.

It is late. Miles is at home, so is Ben. The garden covers them, as the flowers and shrubs, his mother has taken care of, are standing in the dark. The sounds of a small town lingering in the air. Beer in hands, some bullshit stories they exchange.

He closes his eyes. Remembering the moment with Miles, where he had been like hell, felt like hell, and she had been there. The embarrassing moment coming back when his body had responded to hers upstairs in Miles' spare room. And the thing was, she had stopped him, but with his ego intact. Charlie knew how to take care, instead of smothering too much.

'Hey, everything okay?'

'Never better.' He sais, as he places the beer bottle and takes another gulp.

He looks away and then at her face.

Charlie heard his tone. Bullshit, she knows it is.

'All right...out with it...'

He looks to his hands, beer in hand, beer against his lips, beer seeping in his throat.

'It's just...you have been so amazing Charlie.'

He does not know what to say.

Instead. Charlie answers him with the great strong no bullshit Charlie she is.

Her eyes are jewels of blue when he meets them.

'You would do the same for me. You have done the same for me.'

Remembering some moments where she had been sobbing into the night as Jason had broken up with her, and she had called him. Remembering some night at a bar, where they had gotten into a stupid fight, and she left to get some more beers and men had started to harass her, and he had come back for her, to get her out. Understanding in silence how it had shaken her up, sitting there next to her at his fireplace. Her sleeping, him watching over. That day in an empty school hall, where she had to do a presentation and he had been irritated and left early, but then, at the moment nerves were turning into unbearable moments, he had come back. She had told him so, and he had looked at her. Oh he did.

'So many times.'

They lock eyes. The night stands still, as the late hours between late and early are there.

He moves his hand towards her jaw.

They look. They feel they wait.

And then Charlie kisses him as Bass kisses Charlie.

The beers in hand, the plaid around them on the porch. The air silent, the fire still going.

It a slow explorative kiss, something that feels natural and exciting .

Charlie feels a surge of admiration for him, as his hand is still in her hair, he does not stop kissing her but at the same time, he puts his beer down as he gets her beer. He turns into the lover he know is, next to the friend and family he is already. He is skilled, and it is natural and oh so good. It is also the right moment, where he is more of Bass again, moved out of that first shattering moments of grieve and his strength matches her, day by day now.

He tastes like leather, and his slow scent, his mouth a taste she has always wanted to know. He is everywhere.

From that day they argued about directions, on that day she took a hike and he went with her, it was there. That heated angry surge in her belly. Leaves above them. A silent path. The connection. Knowing that one day they would get here.

His hands move over and under her shirt. His fingertips digging into her soft flesh. She is mindblowing, Bass wants more. She asks for more. She feels the side of his pants, the fabric of his jeans roughly against his hand. He kisses her as he holds her and caresses her all at one.

Pillows and plaids are there to meet them in that shielded moment.

When he slides into her, and he needs to be still for a second and look at her, beautiful Charlie, his arms around her and next to her arms with strong muscles, and she looks at him and caresses the skin under his collarbones and above his chest, it is a gasp of familiar and new and stimulating at the same time, as his body is pressing on her, her legs are everywhere and they start the play of trusting and moving as he covers her completely, being carefully it's not too much, when passion builds and it a slow lovemaking between people that were always heading to this porch. Charlie wants to disappear into the hollow of his arm, as she encircles around him and she lets Bass take them, as she takes him, where they want to go.

One star up in the sky high above them.