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I flip through the book until I get to my last entry from the day I left Sunnyside. Next to it on the opposing page is another entry—one I didn’t write.
September 7th
Dear Charly’s Mom,
Hi. It’s Bryce. Your daughter has written about me in this journal, so I feel like I don’t need to introduce myself, or give you too much background information. You’ve probably watched everything unfold from where you are, so you already know everything you need to know up until this point.
I definitely don’t need to tell you that you raised an incredible daughter. She’s kind, and caring, and compassionate, and she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. I wasn’t ready for her when she arrived at my grandmother’s inn. I was stuck in my own head. I was moving through life like a piece of driftwood floating down a river with no sense of purpose or direction.
My Nana talks a lot about purpose. She says everyone has a purpose in life, something they’re driven to do. And it’s more than a career, more than catching a football, or making a tackle, or winning a Super Bowl. I’ve done all of those things, and at the time, it felt like I’d found my purpose. But I confused ability with purpose. When that was taken away from me, I lost myself. I didn’t know who I was without football, and people treated me like I wasn’t worthy of anything without it, so how could I think any different? I stopped trusting people because I stopped trusting myself. If I could make such a monumental mistake, like getting into a fight with a stranger over something so meaningless, then what kind of person was I? I was ashamed of myself, and in turn, I punished myself for it.
I fell in love with your daughter. I couldn’t stop myself. My heart became hers, and I wanted to believe that I could be someone worthy of her love. I tried. I did things for her without even thinking twice about it, because I needed to see her smile. Because she deserves to be happy. Because someone as amazing as her should feel cared for every single day. But after six years of telling myself that I’m not good enough, how could I convince myself that I could be the man she deserves in only a couple of months? My fear and insecurity crept back in as the reality of her leaving got closer. I got scared, and I did what I always do. I retreated.
I let Charly go because I thought I was doing the right thing for her. I thought you’re supposed to set the beautiful butterfly free instead of holding it captive, and stifling it. But Charly isn’t a butterfly. She is a human with the capability to think for herself, and make decisions to go after the things she wants. And if she wants me, then how could I deny her of that? I’d give her the world if I could. Why would I break her heart, and force her to do something she doesn’t want to do? I spent the summer helping her live her life to the fullest, and part of living your life to the fullest means feeling everything to the fullest too. It means diving head-first into experiences and emotions, living in the moment, and taking what you want. That’s what Charly tried to do. But I was so used to being let down, to letting myself down, that I let her down in the end because it was familiar and safe. It was the easy way out.
But I don’t want easy. I want Charly. I want it all with her.
These past few weeks without her have been pure agony. It feels as if my heart has been ripped from my chest. Yet that’s not why I want to try to get her back.
I want to be the one who makes her smile.
I want to be the one who holds her when she needs comfort.
I want to be the one she lets herself fall apart in front of.
I want to be the one who pushes her to grow and learn and try new things.
Most of all, I want to be the one she trusts her heart with.
That’s why I’m writing to you, Ms. Johnson. I want you to know that I’m going back to therapy, and I’m going to work on my trust issues, and work on forgiving myself for the mistakes in my past. I want to be the person Charly deserves. I want to be better, for me and for her. I want to work at it every single day—together.
You might not be here for her, and for that I am truly sorry. I know how much she misses you. But I promise, I’m going to be everything you’d want me to be for your daughter. I’m going to be the man you’d be proud to see her with. I’m going to take care of her for you.
I just hope she lets me.
Love,
B.
I blink down at the page, tears streaming down my face and blurring my vision.
He loves me?
He wants to be with me?
Questions swarm my mind, but I don’t have time to sit with any of them because a finger tucks under my chin, and tips my head, tearing my eyes off the paper.
Anthony’s blue eyes sparkle as he gives me a soft smile. A genuine one, for the first time. “He’s waiting for you up on the roof. If you love him, if you can forgive him, then go to him. And Charly, be sure this is what you want, because that man can’t take any more heartache. If you go up there, you’re going all in.”
I drop my journal onto my chair as I fly out of my seat.
I bunch my dress in my fists as I dash out of the ballroom, weaving in and out of the crowd, and make my way to the lobby.
A security guard stops me. “Can I help you, Miss?”
“The rooftop. How do I get to the roof?”
He lifts his finger to the hallway. “Take the elevator to—”
