Silence stretches so long I check my phone to see if we’re still connected. Just as I’m about to tell her to take her time, she lets out a low, reluctant growl.
“Fine. We can meet at Grinders. Two o’clock. Don’t be late, ass pucker.”
“Ass pucker?” I mutter, smirking as I toss my phone onto the counter.
A sharp meow sounds at my feet as Jinx weaves around my ankles.
I scoop her up, tucking her against my chest. She purrs like a tiny engine, nuzzling my shirt and demanding attention.
I laugh, ruffling her fur. “You’re a needy one, huh? What do you think, Jinx? Am I about to get my ass handed to me?”
Jinx meows again and swats at my face playfully.
“You’re right. Mel’s probably going to wreck my feelings. I deserve it.” Jinx squirms as I lift her to eye level. “Never forget what matters most, Jinx. Losing sight of it can destroy everything.”
She trots off when I set her down, only to race back the second she hears kibble clattering into her bowl.
There’s no telling how this meeting with Amelia will play out. Mel’s always been wild, unpredictable, and brutally honest. She’s never bothered with a filter, not once.
I just hope she can feel how genuine my apology is. She doesn’t owe me forgiveness, and I know that, but I can’t help wishing she’ll give it anyway.
With an hour to kill before meeting Amelia, I grab a water, my sketchbook, and my phone, then head out to the patio.
Before I start sketching the tattoo idea swirling in my head, I fire off a quick text to Charlie.
Keaton:
Hey, my beautiful butterfly. I hope you’re having a great day. Can’t wait to see you soon.
I set my alarm for thirty minutes, dim my screen, and reach for my sketch pad and charcoal pencils. There’s a blank stretch of skin on my side, waiting for something new. Ever since I wrecked things with Charlie, I’ve become obsessed with butterflies. Most are hidden under my shirt, but if she looked closely, she’d spot the ones on my arms, legs, and neck. Some are vivid and bright, others dark and gothic. A few have broken wings, mid-flight, simple reminders of how I shattered my own butterfly.
Time slips by as I sketch, blend, and shade, breathing life into the vision in my mind. Butterflies burst through torn skin, snakes coiling around them, their bodies half-hidden beneath the surface.
Sometimes the darkness inside us chases the light, trying to snuff it out.
Capturing that feeling in this piece is harder than I thought. Even as it nears completion, it doesn’t feel right.
By the time my alarm blares, charcoal stains my fingers and smudges my jeans.
Fuck.
There’s always a mess when I finish sketching. Art is my escape, my lifeline when I’m drowning. It’s saved me more times than I can count. My room is packed with sketchbooks filled with drawings of Charlie. If anyone ever found them, they’d probably think I was obsessed.
I toss my sketchbook and pencils onto the counter, wash the charcoal from my hands, grab my keys, and head out.
Time to face the other person I let down.
***
The smell of pastries and coffee beans swirls around me as I walk into Grinders. That scent always reminds me of Charlie. She spends so much time here, it’s practically part of her now.
Amelia sits at the bar, a plate of fries and a club sandwich in front of her.
Charlie’s expansions to Grinders have paid off. The café and bookshop buzz with life every time I stop by.
I can’t help but feel proud watching Charlie bounce from table to table, grinning as she chats with customers. She’s completely in her element here. For all the dreams we shared, this is where she truly belongs, surrounded by coffee, books, and good food. Ifwe’d opened a tattoo shop together, something vital would have been missing for her.
She really is incredible.
