After putting on his running shoes, Dawson left the lawn for later and headed through a path in the grass and weeds toward the steps at the back of the property. Down twenty-two of them sat the beach, and once on the sand Dawson stretched using the bottom stair.
The scent of the morning sea air drove away any cares he had, and that was Charlotte. He hadn’t quite known what to do when she didn’t text him last night. But all of his belongings were in the house, and he deserved to at least get those. At least that was what he’d told himself.
Charlotte hadn’t been anywhere to be found when he’d finally landed his bird and returned to the house. She’d obviously taken a room upstairs, and when he heard her heels coming down the staircase, he’d come out of his room.
He’d taken a bite or two of
