“Keaton,” I call, but he doesn’t hear me, continuing on toward the door.
Shit.
Stopping in place, I lean down and remove the heels, dangling them from my fingers as I rush after him. He shoves through the door without looking back.
“Move,” I snap at a guy blocking my path. His eyes go wide, and he scrambles aside.
I slam my hands against the exit bar and shove the door open.
“Keaton,” I call out again, rushing toward where he’s about to climb into his truck.
His face goes slack as his eyes widen when he sees me hurrying to him. “Charlie? Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”
I stop when there are a few feet between us, not ready to get closer than that. Tonight has been emotional enough. There’s no way in hell I'll be able to handle close physical proximity with him.
“I just wanted to tell you it was nice meeting you, Keaton. Maybe we’ll see each other around.”
His lips part, and he rubs his hand over his heart as he stares at me, speechless. I give him a little smile and turn to go back in.
But something tugs at my soul, words my heart refuses to leave unsaid. I turn back to face him.
“Hey, Keaton.” He glances over the frame of the truck door. “That girl you spoke so beautifully about. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t hate you. At least not anymore. And I’m pretty sure you probably gave her a lot of happy years. Years that she wouldn't trade, not even after the pain she went through. And I’m confident that she would tell you that even though you made a lot of really terrible decisions that broke her, she would want you to know that she doesn’t think you’re a bad guy. You mentioned having an ugly side to yourself that you didn’t know about. I’ll tell you, she does too. She’s just fantastic at accepting it. And in doing that, she’s able to balance so that it doesn’t destroy her life. Have a good night, Keaton.”
This time, I don't look back as I walk away. I can feel it building inside of me, the pain, the love, the heartbreak, and the fucking memories. So, instead of going back to my group of friends, I stand inside the door until I know Keaton is gone, and then I go back outside.
I order an Uber and lean against the building as the first sob tears free. The pain is sharp, but it feels like healing, and that terrifies me. I clutch my shoes to my chest, as if a pair of red-soled heels could somehow hold all the hurt inside.
Alek and Amelia rush out the door just as the Uber is pulling up.
“What the fuck, Char? Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t I have to get a phone call from that fuck hat telling me to come check on you?” Amelia snarks as she wraps me in her arms and guides me to our ride.
“Keaton called you?” I ask, my voice cracking from the tears.
She snorts, and Alek chuckles. “Of course he did. As much as I hate to admit it, that man knows you. He knew what you were going to pull.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper, voice barely holding together.
“I know you are. And I’m scared with you because I can’t see you broken like that again, Charlie. It destroyed me to know that you had so much agony going on inside of you, and I couldn’t do anything to fix it. You’re my best friend, and I had to sit and watch you break.” She brushes the hair from my eyes and gives me that lopsided smile of hers that she rarely lets anyone else see. “But as you always tell me…live in the now, Charlie. You control your life. Always remember that.”
I lean into my two best friends, their hands tangled with mine, grounding me in the present as I try not to think about what comes next.
Because honestly, the future is terrifying, and maybe it’s better to stumble into it blind, no matter how foolish that sounds.
Live in the now.
Maybe that’s wise, because for the first time since that day in the pool house, I can be near Keaton without being triggered. Even when he spoke about it, the flashbacks stayed away. I remember the words I gave him before he left.
It doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive, but it does mean I’m healing, just as I should be.
And honestly, that’s the most I could ask for right now.
I’m healing, moment by moment, day by day.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat as a genuine smile paints my face.
I’m not broken anymore. With my friends’ help, I’ve reshaped myself into someone who’s just a little bit bent, and that’s okay.
And I think I’m okay with that.
