“That’s amazing, Char. Send lots of photos when you’ve finished decorating it.”
“You got it.”
“Made any friends yet? What about your neighbors?”
Jacob had pushed for me to get an apartment, saying it’d force me to meet people and build a sense of community. Instead, I chose a house a few minutes from the lake. It was a bit lonely, but I’d never admit that since that would mean telling Jacob he was right all along.
“I just moved in. Once school starts, I’ll meet people.”
“Mhmm. I’m looking out for you, Char.”
“I know.”
“Let me talk to Charlotte,” my mother’s voice cut in from the background.
My mom was the only one who still called me Charlotte. After Dad died when I was a teenager, I’d stopped correcting her. It was a small battle to fight in the grand scheme of things.
“Charlotte, honey, I miss your pecan pie. You know it’s never quite the same without you.”
I loved my mom, I really did, but she always had a way of making me feel like I was supposed to be back there, filling the spaces I’d left behind.
“I know, Mama,” I said, forcing a smile, though she couldn’t see it. “I’ll make it for you this Thanksgiving. I promise.”
It was easier to say what she needed to hear, even if it meant another piece of me stayed tied to the life I’d been trying to move on from.
“Alright then, I’ll let you go, Charlotte. Don’t wait too long to come home.”
“I won’t, Mama.”
I hung up and let the silence settle in. The house suddenly felt emptier than before. I glanced around, taking in the barewalls, the still-packed boxes in the corner, the echo of my own thoughts bouncing off the empty space.
I needed something—someone—to fill this place, something that wasn’t tied to expectations or the weight of my family’s dreams.
“Maybe I should get a dog,” I muttered to myself, half joking, half serious.
It wouldn’t solve everything, but it might help fill some of the loneliness creeping in.
This was my life, one I’d chosen, far away from the demands and the suffocating legacy that had always tried to define me. It wasn’t perfect, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy, but it was mine. Whatever came next, I’d face it head-on. I was building something that belonged to Charlie, not the Astor family. That was a story worth writing.
3
austin
“I cannot believe it,” Dirks said as he pulled off his helmet. His blonde hair was stuck to his forehead, and he was glistening with sweat. “I’d thought I’d be able to block every shot.”
I chuckled and gestured to my clothes. “Could you imagine how I’d kick your ass if I were in gear?”
“Fuck,” Dirks groaned. We skated toward the benches, and I pulled out two water bottles from my bag and tossed him one. “Thanks.”
Propping up against the boards, we looked out onto the ice.
“So, you’re home for good, then?”
“With my mom’s café opening, she asked if I’d consider coming back to help out, and I agreed. But... I also wanted to be closer to my family again. I’ve realized they were really trying to help me, even when I couldn’t see it, and I want to work on those relationships.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Eh. I’d created a little life out in Cali for myself. It was nice. It was safe and away from any of my triggers here. My therapist agreed it would be a good thing to come back as long as I stayed on top of my meds and therapy.”
