Free Lines We Forget by J.E. Warren Page B

informs him when they settle on a rickety wooden bench. “He’s into music too, but he can’t play anything, not like you.”
    “I’m sure I’ll meet him one day,” Charlie says, hoping she won’t start to ask about his family because he doesn’t have the patience to divulge details.
    She teases him, with a glint in her eye that lets him know she’s maybe only half-serious. “Joe, my brother, is dead protective of me so you’d better not mess me around.”
    “Why would I ever do that?” He grins, nudging her shoulder.
    “So what are your plans for Christmas?” she asks, which is a question he really doesn’t want to give any thought to because he’s never liked it or found it to be an important, joyful time of year.
    From the way Anna talks about her own family’s celebrations—the big turkey lunch, the presents, and the old festive films—Charlie realises that she, in contrast, really, really likes it.
    He says, “I’m heading to my parents’ house for the day. The usual and then I’m coming back here as soon as I can.”
    “You don’t get on with your folks, do you?” She gives him a pitying look as her fingers weaved into his.
    “Not amazingly well, but it’s fine.” The energy to explain his complex family issues escapes. He doesn’t want to get bogged down again in the complex drama. Because Anna doesn’t need to know how he’d packed up his belongings at age eighteen and hightailed it away to pursue a music career. Eager to escape the feeling of being the black sheep of the family, which he knows he still is some six years later.
    “That’s a shame,” Anna sighs. “What about your siblings, what are they like? Do you talk to them much?”
    Again he feels like her rapid-fire questions are better suited to another time and place, but he understands she’s one of those people who like to know all the nitty, gritty details. She doesn’t mean to pry but can’t help herself.
    “I don’t speak to my older brother really, and my little sister’s busy doing her own thing at University, so no, we don’t talk that much.”
    “Do you all look alike?”
    “What?”
    She strokes his jaw. “I mean, are they both just as blessed with good genes as you are?”
    “My jeans aren’t that good, you know this.”
    “No, like genes , your parents must have great ones because you’ve turned out beautifully.”
    Charlie shakes his head but smiles. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”
    “You’re too modest.”
    “I’m too much of a realist.”
    “No, you’re a hopeless romantic, I’m the realist, remember? I took that quiz in the back of that magazine we found on the Tube last week.”
    “I remember. Wait, why are you laughing?”
    Anna chuckles. “I’m just imagining this trio of good-looking kids, all fair-haired, blue eyes. Though I’m sure you’re the real stunner of the family.”
    “I think you’ll find you’re quite wrong there.” He doesn’t want to go into detail, or picture his older brother—notorious Casanova—or how if she ever were to meet him she’d likely buckle at the knees just as so many women did in his company. Still, if there were a contest as to which was the most honest, kind, and loyal, his brother would fail spectacularly.
    With a defiant shrug, she leans forward and brushes off the stray breadcrumbs that cling to her woolly tights. “I’m never wrong, Charlie.”
    “That’s true.”
    “Don’t you ever miss home, though?”
    Taking a deep breath and Anna’s hand again as they trace the path away from the pond, he sighs. “It never really felt like home. Can’t miss what you never had.”
    She pulls his hand and they both come to a stop. “That really breaks my heart. To hear you say that, you know.”
    “Don’t feel bad. I don’t.”
    “I just forget that not everyone has a home or a family that they love or can miss. I miss my parents every day even if they are annoying and right royal pains in the backside. It’s so selfish of me to