Joanne barely had a moment to respond before Charlotte pivoted, marching toward JD with all the authority of a seasoned interrogator. "Are you?"
JD held up his hands in surrender, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "I come in peace."
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, studying him like a warrior princess sizing up a foe. JD had to admit, there must be something in the water here—because this town was producing an unusual number of them.
Joanne was about to dismiss the absurdity of it all when something caught her eye. The humor drained from her face.
"Wait… Charlie…" She stepped closer, gently grasping the girl's shoulder. "Did you spill juice on yourself?"
Charlotte turned, puzzled by the sudden shift in Jo's tone. Joanne's eyes flicked toward JD, who was watching the exchange with growing concern.
"Ask Veronica in my cabin," Charlotte muttered.
JD didn't have the slightest clue what that meant, but he didn't question it. Instead, he turned and headed off to do as instructed.
Meanwhile, Joanne quickly checked Charlotte's shorts. Her stomach clenched. It wasn't juice.
Blood.
Her expression softened as she looked at the girl, who still hadn't realized. But when Charlotte finally noticed, her face twisted in confusion, then panic.
"Why is this happening now?" she whispered, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I need to participate in the league…"
Joanne pulled her into a hug. "Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. It's a good thing." She kissed Charlotte's temple. "And who said you can't participate?"
Charlotte swallowed, her voice small. "Billy won't—" She hesitated, her words catching in her throat. "What do I tell him if I—"
Ah. Joanne bit back a smile. She knew exactly who Billy was—the boy from the junior league who had been Charlotte's shadow since childhood. He also was her first crush. Charlotte had adopted this boyish persona mainly because she wanted to be close with Billy. Poor girl was now probably mortified at the thought of him finding out.
It was… adorable.
Just then, Veronica arrived.
"Ver, could you grab Charlotte a fresh pair of underwear and a dress?" Joanne asked warmly.
Veronica, a meticulous accountant with an eye for detail, immediately took stock of the situation. Her fingers twitched slightly, avoiding direct eye contact. Joanne knew this wasn't easy for her—Veronica was brilliant with numbers but struggled with social interaction.
"You can bring Jason with you to do the talking," Joanne added with an encouraging smile.
Veronica nodded, visibly relieved at the suggestion, and hurried off.
Charlotte crossed her arms, pouting. "I don't want to wear a dress."
"Just for today," Joanne coaxed. It wasn't often she got to see Charlotte in anything but shorts and t-shirts.
To Joanne's surprise, Charlotte didn't argue. She simply stood there, arms still folded, lips pursed in reluctant acceptance. Joanne smiled but let her be—she needed time to come to terms with this new reality.
When Veronica returned with the dress, Joanne thanked her before closing the door. She rummaged through her drawer and pulled out a fresh pack of panty liners, holding them out.
"Go change in my restroom," she said, motioning toward the private bathroom—one of the perks of being the boss.
Charlotte stared at the pack as if it might explode in her hands.
"Do you prefer tampons?" Joanne asked gently.
Charlotte's cheeks flamed. "I… I don't know how to…" She hesitated, her eyes dropping back to the liners.
"I'll teach you," Joanne assured her, leading her toward the bathroom. "Didn't they teach you this in school?" They taught her when she was in school. That's how she learned everything.
Charlotte scowled. "I wasn't listening."
Joanne chuckled. Of course she hadn't.
"Don't laugh! I didn't think I'd become a girl," Charlotte muttered, still sulking.
Joanne laughed harder. "You were born a girl."
Charlotte huffed, turning her face away. Of course, she knew that. It just… felt different now.
Joanne took her through everything she needed to know—how to clean up, how to change, how to handle it all. When Charlotte emerged, dressed and visibly subdued, Joanne packed up her soiled clothes.
"I'll drive you home," Joanne said as she guided her out of the office. Charlotte only nodded, still unusually quiet.
Joanne knew what the girl was feeling—uncertainty, embarrassment, even a strange sense of loss. Joanne had felt it too, all those years ago. But in time, it would become just another part of life.
"Want some ice cream?" she asked casually.
Charlotte hesitated, then her face lit up—just a little. "Okay. Chocolate chip."
As they sat in the truck, Charlotte happily devouring her ice cream, Joanne loaded her bike in the back. But as she climbed into the driver's seat, she caught something she hadn't expected—silent tears slipping down Charlotte's cheeks.
Joanne's heart twisted. "Are you crying?" she asked softly.
Charlotte quickly wiped at her face, but the next words fell from her lips before she could stop them. "I miss my mom."
Joanne's breath hitched.
She reached over, pulling Charlotte into a hug, holding her as she cried.
Charlotte's mother passed away in a terrible accident when she was in kindergarten. Joanne knew that pain all too well. She'd grown up without a mother, too. And no matter how strong you became, no matter how many years passed, that absence never truly left you.
She let Charlotte cry, rubbing slow circles on her back until the storm passed. When Charlotte finally pulled away, sniffling, Joanne started the car. She called Jonathan, Charlotte's father, letting him know she was on the way.
"Sorry for the trouble," Jonathan said, sounding exasperated but grateful. "I know my daughter can be a handful."
"She's not a trouble at all," Joanne said sincerely.
As Joanne set her phone down, a fragile voice broke the quiet.
"Why can't you be my mother?" Charlotte asked, her words barely above a whisper. She stared down at her lap, small hands twisting in the fabric of her dress. "Do you hate me? I'll be a good girl—I'll do whatever you say…"
Joanne's chest tightened, a dull ache blooming beneath her ribs.
Oh, Charlie…
She swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel as if it could anchor her. Then, she reached over and gently took Charlotte's hand, giving it a squeeze.
"Never," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Not for a second."
Charlotte hesitated, then lifted her watery blue eyes.
"Then marry my dad."
Joanne exhaled, the weight of the request settling deep in her bones. She turned to Charlotte, meeting the quiet hope in her gaze, and sighed.
"Do you not like my dad?" Charlotte asked next.