“You aren’t a runner-up. You’re never in second place, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you were. You mean more to me than anything, and I want you there with me for this journey. I couldn’t—can’t—imagine doing it without you.”
His words felt sincere, but I wasn’t sure how to feel. Part of me wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope that I wasn’t just the backup plan in his life. But another part, hardened by years of feeling second best to everyone who claimed they loved me, hesitated.
“Thank you for saying that,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together beneath the weight of emotions pressing against my chest.
I wanted to sound strong, assured, but the battle between hope and doubt was unraveling me from the inside out.
There was a pause so heavy it felt like the air itself had stilled.
“I’m going to meet Scarlette tomorrow,” he finally said.
“That’s good,” I managed, and I meant it. I truly did.
“Are you going to be home for the holiday?” he asked.
“No.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll be here with my brother, then I’ll come back when I’m ready.”
“But . . . you’ll be back?”
“Yes.” I let out a breathy sigh. “I have a job I have to go back to. I just... need a break.”
“Okay, Char.”
“I gotta go.”
“I-I miss you,” he whispered so softly that I thought maybe I’d imagined it.
I sighed again. It wasn’t that I didn’t miss him; I just wasn’t ready to say it back.
“Talk to you soon.”
I hung up and closed my eyes, not ready to face any of this. I knew Austin cared. I knew none of this was his fault. I knew I was being immature by running away from the situation, but I still felt like I was in second place.
41
charlie
I was rushing to get dressed after oversleeping from what was supposed to be a quick nap. I quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater, thankful the chill wasn’t as biting as it had been in Chicago.
“Charlie?”
There was a knock at the door, and I went over to answer it.
My brother stood on the other side, much more casual than when I saw him earlier. “Sorry, I had to work late. I made some pasta and wanted to see if you wanted to eat?”
My stomach growled. “Oh, yes. Please.”
I smiled and followed him down the hall to where he’d already set two plates at the small glass table by the window.
“Thank you.” I pulled out a chair as he poured us two glasses of my favorite red.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here early, or am I going to have to wait until you finally decide to share?”
I stuffed a forkful of noodles and sauce into my mouth, hoping to dodge the question, but he only sipped from his glass, unbothered. The resemblance between us was uncanny, though the Jacob sitting across from me was far more laid-back thanthe polished version most people knew. He’d never be caught in public wearing anything but a suit.
“Really, Charlie? Shoving food in your face? I thought we left that trick behind when we were kids.”
I laughed, shrugging. “It worked then, figured it might still work now.”
