by Cole Lepley
Charlie is sitting on the front porch swing when I pull into her driveway. Just the sight of her makes my heart clench. It’s hard to believe that after all I’ve put her through, she still doesn’t turn me away. She has every right to tell me to leave and never come back.
But she doesn’t. Sure, she has voiced concerns about being around me, and maybe I’ve caught some vibes of hesitation more often than I would like, but I’ve never been one to accept defeat. It’s not in my nature. Winning has been drilled into me since birth, and up until now, I didn’t realize how truly lost I’ve been without her.
She smiles at me when I get out of my truck, but it’s still guarded. It’s not the easy, sexy smile I used to get. I’d be an idiot to expect that, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.
I hold up the pizza box triumphantly as I step onto the porch. “You hungry?”
She nods and gives a knowing smile when she sees where it came from. I used to drag her down to the small Italian restaurant in town at least twice a week. I’m pretty sure she got sick of eating pizza so much, but I’m also positive it didn’t matter. She always did things she knew I liked because it made me happy. I wish I offered her the same in return.
She stands up from the swing and takes the box from me. I take a moment to admire the way her dark jeans hug the curves of that perfect ass even better now than they used to. Her body was always flawless, but I appreciate the way it’s filled out a bit more since the last time I saw it.
“I’m starving,” she says, and walks toward the front door.
I hold it open for her, and she thanks me before stepping inside. The dining room table is still in the same spot I remember it, but that’s about the only furniture still left in the house. All the pictures that used to line the walls are gone, and a handful of boxes are still scattered around the empty rooms.
It hits me harder than I expect. A part of me feels like this was my house, too. So many memories from my childhood were formed here, and it will be a shame when someone else moves in.
Charlie sets the box down on the table and nods to the kitchen. “I still have some plates out. What do you want to drink? I made some sweet tea earlier.”
I flash her a smile. “That sounds perfect.”
The one I get in return is polite and subdued. When she disappears into the kitchen, I decide I need to kick this up a notch. She’s not turning me away, but also not really saying anything at all. Nothing important, anyway.
I’m not gonna lie, it took some convincing on my part to even get her to have dinner with me. I think she would have been fine with leaving tomorrow without even telling me.
I push those thoughts aside when she returns with two glasses and a stack of paper plates tucked under her arm. “I guess I did pack them after all,” she says, and hands me one of the glasses.
“Paper plates are classy.” I lean down and wink at her. “I think they make the pizza taste better.”
She sputters a laugh and those grey eyes finally light up enough to make my pulse race. “You say that when it’s square, too.”
“Hey, now.” I point my finger at her with a serious expression. “Don’t make me order the big pizza so I can prove you wrong again.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile remains. “Just eat. I know you probably wanted to steal a piece on the way over.”
I laugh because she knows me so well. I’d hate to see what would happen to my body if my metabolism ever slowed down.
We both grab a slice and sit down at the table. Silence fills the air around us and although I’m busy shoving cheesy deliciousness in my mouth, my mind is spinning. It feels like there’s too much to say, and I’m running out of time.
But I’m afraid to ruin the evening by pushing her, so I take the easy way out. My eyes drift to one of the few remaining photos stacked on the edge of the side table by the window. The toe-headed little girl in the purple tutu makes me smile.
“You still dance?”
Her shoulders stiffen for a moment and then she nods. When she finishes chewing the food in her mouth I expect her to elaborate, but she doesn’t.
I take a breath. “I’m really glad to hear that.”
Something flashes in her eyes and she reaches for her glass. They remain locked on mine while she takes a drink. If I’m not mistaken, she looks mad.
She sets her glass back down and sits up straighter in her chair. “Listen, Ollie—”
I sense the brush-off in her posture before she even opens her mouth, so I hold my hand up to interrupt. “Stop it.”
Her brows furrow. “Stop what?”
“Stop trying to keep me from saying what I need to say.”
She scoffs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She shakes her head, but then meets my eyes again. “What do you want to say, Oliver? Tell me.” When I hesitate, she motions forward with her hand. “Come on. I’ll give you a free pass. Say whatever you want, and I won’t try to stop you.”
This feels like a test. Like I need to pick the exact thing she wants me to say or she’ll never speak to me again. I say a small prayer and take a breath.
“I’m sorry.”
She laughs and then her eyes abruptly narrow. “Get out.”
Okay, wrong answer, I guess. I stand up from my chair, but don’t move in the direction of the front door. I move closer to her.
With each step I take, she poises herself more to bail. I hate to break it to her—but I’m still faster. I’m fully prepared to chase her anywhere she tries to run.
“It’s true,” I say, my voice surprisingly strong. I stop in front of her. “But that’s just one thing I wanted to say. You didn’t say I could only say one thing.” I cock my head at her. “You said I could say whatever I want.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she whispers.
I want to be pissed right now and demand she listens to me, but now she rips my heart out all over again and starts to cry. I curse under my breath, pull her up from her chair, and into my chest.
To my utter amazement, she doesn’t push me away. She wraps her arms around my waist and I squeeze her tighter. I press my lips to the side of her head. “Please don’t cry, baby. I can’t fucking stand it when I make you cry.”
She sniffs once and then lifts her head to wipe under her eyes with her finger tips. This time, she does shove me away. “Just go, okay?”
I shake my head firmly. “No. Not until you tell me why you’re so upset?”
With a bitter laugh she faces me with anger again. “You know why.”
I take a tentative step forward and gauge her reaction the entire time. She doesn’t step back, so I decide it’s okay to speak. I’m so fucking confused right now.
“Charlie, I swear to you I don’t.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls it back. I let mine drop with a sigh. “Please talk to me. Hear me out and then you can leave knowing that you know everything.” I take an unsteady breath. “And then maybe I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing that you do.”
Her body remains rigid and her eyes search mine. She’s looking for an excuse to say no. For some reason she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. It’s almost insulting that she clearly doesn’t remember me very well.
I’m still stubborn as fuck.
And I’m not leaving until she listens.
Chapter 8
Bruises
Charlotte - Now
Ollie’s right. I won’t say those words out loud, though. It wouldn’t do me any good to give him the satisfaction.
I don’t want to hear what he has to say. No matter what it is, it won’t change anything. It will only make a difficult situation harder, and I’ve spent years trying to distance myself from feeling that way.
It didn’t work obviously. My failed engagement is a prime example. I’m still trying to clean up that mess as well.
The silence continues to cling to every bit of air between us and I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating. Without an explanation, I turn away from him and head straigh
t for the front door. My lungs inhale the cool, fall air as soon as I step outside and walk over to the railing. I grip the edge and take another deep breath.
Ollie’s footsteps echo on the wooden boards of the porch behind me and the screen door squeaks closed. I brace myself for what’s about to come out of his mouth.
But I bet it won’t be what he should say.
“I didn’t come here to upset you.”
His voice is soft, and I close my eyes at the sound. It used to be so calming to me. Now it makes my stomach twist in knots to the point I might throw up.
God, why does everything about him have to be the same? The way he smells, the way he speaks to me. All of it makes me want to turn around and jump into his arms and tell him that I’ve missed him every second I’ve been gone. That I’ve never let myself love another person the way I loved him.
Because damn it if I didn’t try. I tried so hard to replace his memory with someone else. But when I finally turn around to face him, I remember exactly why I never did.
Ollie has his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans, and his threadbare grey T-shirt clings to his sculpted biceps. But his face is sad. He looks as wrecked as my heart feels, and it makes me so angry. It also makes me sad, but anger seems to be overtaking everything else at the moment.
I pull my thin, tan sweater around me and lean back against the railing. “It’s not entirely you,” I say finally. “All of this is a lot to deal with without adding more heavy shit on top of it.”
He nods. “I get that.” He takes a breath. “But I just want to know you again. It doesn’t make sense that I’ve gone this long without you in my life.”
“You seem to be doing just fine.”
“How do you know?” he asks, anger tinging his voice. “How do you know how I feel if you won’t let me talk to you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t need you to.”
“What about what I need? Maybe I need to say it.”
A bitter laugh escapes me, but I can’t seem to formulate a response. I’ve always put his needs ahead of mine. He may have promised to always be there for me, but when it came down to it, when I needed him the most—he wasn’t.
He’s still waiting for my answer and I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m leaving soon. What good would it do to dredge up everything when none of it would matter anyway?”
“It matters to me.”
“It should have mattered before now.” I laugh once. “Because if it had, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”
A dark cloud swirls through his eyes and it catches me off guard. Is he seriously getting mad?
When he takes a step closer, I don’t try to move away. “It did matter. I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t.” He laughs bitterly. “You’re the one who ran away without giving me a chance to explain.”
I throw my arms up in frustration. “Explain what? You made yourself perfectly clear.” I narrow my eyes. “Many times.”
He shakes his head, still unwilling to accept responsibility. “That’s not fair. I had no idea it was some kind of ultimatum that night if I didn’t say exactly what you wanted to hear.”
It’s my turn to laugh. The threat of impending tears is fading with his words. He hasn’t changed one bit, and I don’t think he ever will.
“If you think that’s what this is about, then you really are clueless.”
His jaw ticks, and he looks away from me for a moment. It’s strange to see him hesitate with his responses. He always used to say the first thing to come to mind without a second thought. Because he didn’t care if anyone liked his answer or not.
Now I think he does. When he locks eyes on me again, they’re different. They blaze back, with an intensity he seldom shows.
“I have no idea what that was about.” He takes a step closer, invading my personal space again. “Because you fucking left. You left without giving me a chance to explain myself properly. You can’t spring shit like that on someone and not give them a chance to process it.”
A scoff bursts out of me. “Like you didn’t know.”
“Maybe I did, but it doesn’t mean I knew what to say back when you finally said it.”
“Why?” My voice breaks when I ask the question, but I swallow it back and push through it. “Because you didn’t?”
“No,” he says harshly. “Because I didn’t know how to live up to what it meant.”
I laugh and take a step back. I arch an eyebrow in warning when he tries to move with me. He takes the hint and angrily shoves his hands in his pockets.
I take a breath. “What does that even mean?”
He throws his hand out in exasperation. “I was a piece of shit, Charlie. I did every terrible thing you could possibly imagine, and still—you never left me. How could you love someone like that?”
It’s typical for him to say something like this. Every time he ever screwed up—which was a lot—it was never actually his fault. That’s just the way he is, right?
“So, you’re saying that instead of trying to be better, you just decided to keep being an asshole because it’s what you were good at?”
Ollie’s eyes widen a little and he lets out a low whistle. He’s clearly taken aback by my hostility. I used to forgive him rather easily.
“You think I was always an asshole, then?”
“No, but I think you didn’t try very hard because everyone accepted that was who you were.” I lower my voice. “I knew a different version of you, and that’s the person I loved.”
He stays quiet for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. “So, you don’t anymore?”
“Don’t what?”
“Love me.”
He says the words simply, like there’s an easy answer. He can’t see the way my heart is pounding in my chest, begging me to give in to him. When I don’t answer quick enough, he presses further.
“It’s a yes or no question, Charlotte.”
I don’t have enough time to think about what I really want to say. Of all the times I envisioned this conversation between us, none of them compares to what it feels like to be standing in front of him now.
“No.”
He laughs, but not out of amusement. His eyes harden. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I have to say after all.”
The lump in my throat keeps growing, but I refuse to cry again. Not in front of him, at least.
“I guess not.”
My voice is barely above a whisper and he visibly flinches. It’s also not like him to accept defeat, but the wounded look on his face says it all. With Ollie, if something is hard, he tends to take the easy way out. He makes light of serious situations when he should face them head-on, or even worse—he avoids them altogether.
He nods once and then starts to walk toward the stairs but stops beside me. “I meant what I said.” His eyes shift down to mine and I force myself to look at him. “I really am sorry.” He takes a shaky breath. “For everything.”
I don’t offer a response and I don’t try to stop him when he walks away from me. Instead, I close my eyes until his truck roars to life and pray that I never have to hear that sound again.
Even though I try to fight it, my tears start to fall anyway.
I wish I could go back to the day everything changed. The day I lost my best friend and fell in love with the only guy that’s ever been capable of breaking my heart. It’s inevitable when you only give it to one person and never get it back. You carry that hurt with you through every single relationship, no matter how hard you try not to.
The mistakes I made with Jared are a direct reflection of that. He didn’t deserve to be compared to a man who never put me first. He didn’t deserve to feel like I didn’t love him back when I tried so desperately to allow myself to.
One more day. One more day, and I’ll never have to see him again. I can go back to New York and start to rebuild the life I’m supposed to have.
Chapter 9
Headspace
Oliver - Then
Charlie watches me from her seat on the grass while I school Hunter in the art of basketball. She’s wearing a rather short pair of distressed denim shorts as she sits cross-legged next to Daisy Decker.
I can tell she’s somewhat annoyed by her, but hasn’t said anything about it. Even though I’ve been busy dunking all over my best friend, I still found time to watch her out of the corner of my eye.
It’s always so obvious to me when she’s acting sweet for the sake of being nice. The smile on her face is forced and her causal laughter is fake as fuck. I know when she thinks something is funny. She gives me that melodic giggle that plays in my head long after the sound is gone. It’s weird that I like it so much, but I do.
There’s another reason I’m trying so hard today to defend my masculinity. Liam is also on Hunter’s team. Normally Hunter and I team up, but Judah Holloway came to the job site with his dad today and he’s an incredible athlete. The kid’s only fourteen, but he’s got five inches on me and is already dominating on the JV football team. Clearly we’re going to be good friends.
The way Judah’s been looking at my sister isn’t lost on me, though. Elliot never hangs around when we’re down at the courts, but lately she’s been showing up dressed like Taylor Swift after a break-up.
I’ll have to keep my eye on her, but right now she’s not my biggest problem. Liam. Charlie’s been dating that sneaky motherfucker for almost seven months. Because I’m such a nice fucking guy, I allow her to talk me into hanging out with him more often than I’d like.
And by often, I mean never. I hate everything about the kid—but she likes him. I think she likes him a lot, actually. This is the longest she’s dated someone and I’m pretty sure it’s about to take a big step forward. I don’t know why, but it’s a feeling I have.
A part of her is distant from me. We still hang out almost every day, but I don’t feel as close to her as I did before. She even looks at me differently. That’s why Daisy is here. Is it petty to try and make her jealous? Yeah, but it’s the card I like to play. If you think you can do better, let me show you that you can’t—or something like that.
