The sun had just set, coating the world in a purplish twilight glow. The cold bit through her black sweater, wrapped a hand around her neck. It was snowing lightly, giving the lavender air an ethereal quality. She buttoned her coat as she walked, no clue where she was going. The Berry property was pretty expansive—she could see another house to the right, but it was at least two hundred yards away. To the left, there was nothing but snowy woods.
She turned left, her boots crunching through the snow, moving her quickly away from the house. She didn’t slow down until she was deep into the shelter of the trees, the pines closing like a curtain around her. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, her heavy breaths curling into white wisps in front of her. Tipping her head to the sky, she blinked at the snow-covered canopy above her, then closed her eyes.
There.
Quiet.
Sweet, blessed quiet.
Too quiet.
Her mind wandered, nothing to grab on to but thoughts of Brighton, the way they used to play together at coffee shops inhigh school and when home from Berklee, sitting on stools while the patrons glanced at them skeptically, unsure anything decent would come out of these two girls holding their instruments.
And then…that first note. The first word Brighton sang into the mic. The first moment Charlotte joined her in harmony. Eyes would widen, brows lifted as a delighted shock settled on people’s faces, an experience that usually pissed Charlotte off and made her feel proud all at once. The kind of music they’d made together had always been good. Even before it wasgreat, it was theirs—new and real and theirs.
“December Light” was theirs.
As she watched the sky grow darker, her throat thickened with memory, with music. Tiny snowflakes fell on her face, and she closed her eyes and breathed in the frigid air, let it numb her lungs, her heart. Let it push out the song, Brighton, everything that—
“Lola.”
She flipped her eyes open. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she said without turning around.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Brighton said.
Charlotte laughed, a bitter sound. “So you’re not fucking kidding me.”
“Lola.”
She whirled around, her anger finally reaching its limit and spilling over. “Don’t you dare call me that. Stop fucking calling me that!”
Her yell echoed through the trees, reverberating like a warning.
Brighton’s mouth dropped open, that ridiculous red plaid coat hanging unbuttoned around her frame. She didn’t have a hat on, no scarf or gloves. Typical Brighton. She stepped forward slowly,as though trying not to spook a wounded animal, and pressed her hands together. “Just let me explain.”
Charlotte shook her head and turned around, then took off through the trees without another thought, walking fast enough that she hoped Brighton would give up. She walked and walked and walked, but she heard her ex behind her, footsteps keeping up, tracking her like a hunter.
“Goddammit,” she said, finally slowing to catch her breath. She didn’t turn around, but she knew Brighton was there, a damn leech sucking at her blood.
“Lo—Charlotte,” Brighton said through her own gasps for air. “Please. Just let me—”
“You gave them our song,” Charlotte said. “You gave it away like it was nothing.”
She kept her back to Brighton. Couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t let Brighton see how her eyes were filling, her cheeks trembling with the effort of holding everything in, keeping everything together. But she couldn’t stop the words, the accusation. It flowed out of her mouth on its own, needing freedom.
“I…I didn’t,” Brighton said, her voice small, thick with tears. “I promise, I didn’t.”
Charlotte didn’t respond. She didn’t care how the song got to the Katies—at least, she told herself she didn’t care. Couldn’t right at that moment, because it was all rushing back.
The day they got engaged.
Their wedding day.
All the times in between when Brighton had played that song for her, just for her, whenever she was stressed or feeling lonely.
“Do you have any idea,” Charlotte said after a few moments, “what it felt like to stand there by myself, waiting for you?” Tears crawled up her throat. She tried to swallow them down, butgoddammit, they were relentless, five years of words she’d never said finally tired of being held inside. “What it felt like to stand there and smile andwaitfor the love of my life to come and join me, and seeing your mother instead? Yourmother, with pity in her eyes as she walked toward me, a fake smile on her face for all the guests.”
“Charlotte,” Brighton said, and Charlotte knew she was crying.
