“Everywhere I go, there you are. On the radio, in magazines, on talk shows. But that’s not the version of you I want. I want the man who held me during the storm.”
By the fourth letter, her voice has dropped to a whisper. She's blinking fast, mouth tightening.
She reads the one about Broken Heart Creek, about Sherry saying Sam hadn’t been sleeping. She reads the one about the job offer and how Charlie wanted to turn it down because it felt like giving up on him.
She reads the letter where Charlie says I love you like it’s the only truth she has left.
By the time she reaches the last one, she can barely speak.
Her voice cracks on the words. “I’m fading without you, Sam. I love you. Love, Charlie.”
Phern folds the letter with trembling fingers and just stands there, silent. Crushed. Like she finally gets it.
“She wasn’t lying,” I say quietly. “She never was.”
Phern nods once, a quick jerk of her head. Her jaw trembles, and then she turns to me.
“I fucked up.”
“Yeah,” I say, not to be cruel, but because we’re past the point of pretending otherwise.
“What do I do?”
I pause, then reach for the whole stack of letters and tuck them under my arm.
“You don’t do anything. I do.”
“But I need to fix this.”
“Phern, he’s not going to be happy to see you.”
She squares her shoulder. “I understand. But I need to make this right.”
I stare at her, nodding.
“Then let’s get to L.A.”
29
It’s strange being back in L.A. after my whirlwind tour of the places I used to live and places that are important to Sam. Each city carried its own ghosts, but none of them haunt me like this one. This might become the city where all my dreams end.
I drop my bag on the floor of the hotel room and turn to Tish, who’s already rifling through her suitcase with purpose.
“I don’t know if I should go,” I whisper.
She freezes, then straightens, her brow furrowed. “What? Babe, you’ve come this far.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands knotting in my lap. “If I couldn’t see him at the smallest venue, then there’s no hope that I’ll see him tonight. Not with thousands of people packed into that arena.”
Saying it out loud feels like setting fire to the last thread of hope I’ve been clinging to.
Tish moves to sit beside me, taking my hand. “Charlotte, the girl I know would’ve snuck onto a crime scene in stilettos to get the truth. Don’t give up now. Not when you’rethis close. Not when everything you’ve been through has led you here.”
I manage a shaky smile. “Yeah.”
“Think about it,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’m going to get ready.”
Even though we weren’t able to get her a seat close to mine, she still found one on the floor. It’s not the front row, but at least we’ll both be there.
