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She sniffles, and I hear a muffled sob escape her. “Oh, thank God.”
“Where are you? Do you need me to come pick you up?”
“No. I’m heading home ... I mean, I’m heading back to your place now.”
Then she ends the call.
I push to my feet, and pat my thighs. Edward makes a clumsy exit from the tub, his paws sliding out from under him as he climbs out, and we wait for Charly outside on the porch swing.
As soon as she rounds the corner of the inn, she spots Edward and takes off running. Edward bolts down the ramp, meeting her halfway across the yard, and dives into her arms. She kisses the top of his head over and over again, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks and she cradles his huge body.
“You scared me, you crazy dog. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I stand, and shove my hands in my pockets. “He must’ve heard us fighting, and it probably triggered something in his memory from his last owner. Poor thing was shaking when I walked into the bathroom.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, but only holds my gaze for a moment before she looks away. “Do you want me to transfer my things to the empty room at the inn?”
“What? No. You don’t have to—”
“I’m going to bed then. I’m tired.” She brushes past me without a second glance, and Edward follows her into the house.
How easy it would be to go after her, and tell her what she wants to hear, tell her what I feel in my heart.
I want to be with you.
We’ll make the distance work.
I don’t want to lose you.
You’re everything to me.
But following my heart will only lead to heartache in the end. And that’s just not something I’m willing to go through.
After my bath, I count the hours as I lie awake in bed.
Alone.
Like I did before Charly walked into my life.
And like I’ll continue to do after she’s gone.
Charly
August 23rd
Dear Mom,
This is not how I imagined my last day in Maine. Bryce and I have passed like ships in the night all week. Or it’s more like he walks into the room, and I leave because I just can’t bear to look at him and not touch him or kiss him the way I want to. I knew it’d hurt at the end of the summer, but I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t expect Bryce to break my heart.
But what else can I do, Mom? He’s convinced himself we won’t last, and I can’t prove we will. I wish he could see how scared I am—just as much as he is—but that I’m willing to take the risk because being happy with him right now is worth whatever pain might come later. I know he’s been hurt, but so have I. We’ve both lost important people, and we’ve both been betrayed by the ones we loved. That’s what bonded us. That’s what helped us get each other. We had a connection deeper than I’ve ever felt. Now ... we have nothing.
And it’s tearing me apart.
Is this how you felt when Dad left? Did it twist up your insides when you watched him pack his things, and walk out the door forever?
A tear slips down my cheek, and splats onto the paper, blurring the ink on the last line. I close my journal, and shove it back under my pillow.
I roll over, and glance at Mom’s bucket list on the nightstand.
