Keaton | The Past
Neitherofusknowswhat to say to each other after the deep conversation we just had.
“How are you doing, Charlie?” I wince, scrubbing my hands over my face. “Fuck. Sorry. That’s a stupid question.”
Her fingers, warm and gentle, curl around my wrists, coaxing my hands from my face. Instead of letting go, she glides her touch down to my palms, holding on when I least expect it.
Charlie squeezes and smiles at me. “Not a stupid question. Despite our conversation, I’m surprisingly doing great. This place is doing amazing. I’ve been going to therapy. I don’t know if you know that or not.”
“I didn’t. Is it helping?”
She pulls her gaze from mine, her eyes drifting somewhere far away, clouded with the kind of distance that comes when someone is lost in thought.
Charlie blinks before turning her beautiful eyes back to me. “It really is. I’m healing. It’s slow, but I’m finding peace, Keaton.What about you? You said you were doing therapy. Do you think you'll continue long-term?”
“Absolutely. I think it’s something I’m always going to do, you know. It’s helping me uncover a lot of shit I didn’t even know needed uncovering.”
She drags her hand out of mine after giving it another light squeeze. “That’s really great, Keaton. I’m proud you’re trying to be a better person.”
I pick up my coffee and drain it. “How are your parents?”
After I cheated on Charlie, I tried to keep in contact with her parents, hoping that, despite their anger, I could still communicate with them. That was selfish of me. I loved them, and they loved me, but after I broke their daughter's heart, things couldn't stay the same. They couldn't avoid me completely—they’re best friends with my parents—but whenever we were in the same room, they acted like I didn't exist. I don't blame them. I never could. I respect the hell out of their decision.
Charlie laughs softly. “Still the same. Ridiculously in love and not afraid to show it to the world.”
“They’re still acting like horny teenagers then?” I ask, chuckling.
“And I doubt they’ll ever stop.”
We share a smile, and for the first time since I shattered everything, it feels effortless—untainted by old bitterness or the weight of past mistakes.
It feels right.
It feels fucking perfect.
Before we can say anything else, my phone rings and Kayla’s name flashes over the screen.
Charlie’s silence says everything. The tension in her posture and the flicker of worry in her eyes reveal her unease at seeing another woman’s name light up my phone.
I give her a gentle smile, pushing the phone across the table to her. “Answer it.” Reaching over to hit the green phone icon and placing it on speaker.
“Hello?” Charlie answers through clenched teeth.
“Oh! You’re not Keaton.” She laughs sadly. “Hi, Charlie.”
“What makes you think I’m Charlie?”
“Because you’re all Keaton talks about. He wouldn’t let anyone else answer his phone.”
The surprise on Charlie’s face stings, as if she never expected I’d speak of her to anyone but my therapist.
That’s another thing I have to blame myself for.
“So, I was calling to ask a favor,” Kayla says.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Do you mind keeping Ryder for a bit? Brock and I need to talk, and I don’t want to do it with him around. I’m afraid we might get heated, and I refuse to let him see us like that.”
