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I hold on to that last thought, so tempting and seductive, as I drift into my slumber.

Pine Falls, November 24, 2017

My dear Charlee,

Words can’t express how sad your last letter made me. My heart aches for you and for what you’re going through. I’m so, so sorry to hear about your mom. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you and Riley, trying to be there for her and handle all of this yourselves too, while also trying to continue to live your lives as if everything were normal. I don’t blame you for having lost it. I would have too.

I wish I could be there with you too, holding your hand and helping you through this awful time. I wouldn’t be able to do much, but I’d never leave your side, just in case you needed me for a hug or to help you navigate what’s coming your way. So if you ever feel down again, just imagine it. Close your eyes and imagine that I’m right there with you. That you can lay your head on my shoulder like you wanted, while we sit in silence, just content in each other’s company.

Would it be crazy if I answered that I’m dying to see you already? I’d love to meet in person, but with all you have going on now, and with it being the end of the semester, I don’t think now is the right time. Trust me, it pains me to write this. I’d fly to see you in a heartbeat. How about we plan on meeting before next summer, after we’re done with college? The restaurant season really picks up in July, so I won’t be free after that. But June would be perfect. Does that sound good to you? God, just thinking of having you in the flesh in front of me is sending my mind into a frenzy of delirious thoughts.

Maybe after that, if you’re free and feeling up to it, you could come back to Pine Falls and spend the summer here with me. No pressure, but I’m still offering.

I’m sending you something unusual in this week’s letter. I hope this small gift will bring you a bit of light in moments of darkness, and if I’m lucky enough, a little smile on your face. I’ve been working on it for a while, but now seems like a good time to send it to you. See, in BC, we have what we call the Great Bear Rainforest. It’s paradise, one of the planet’s most beautiful jewels. There is so much wildlife in this rainforest, but there’s one I love the most: the spirit bear. What makes the spirit bear so special is the fact that its fur is white, despite it not being either an albino or a polar bear. It’s, in fact, a black bear with a recessive gene that causes its fur to turn white. They’re beautiful creatures, rare and unique. They make me think of you. My very own spirit bear.

I hope you like the pendant.

Sending you my love and hugs from a distance I wish I could make disappear.

Xx,

Oliver

Attached article

The spirit bears of the Great Bear Rainforest: One of nature’s most beautiful mysteries

Chapter Fourteen

THE ALCOTT

Oliver

“What happened?” I say when I barge into the bar and my eyes land on Charlee dozing on the counter.

“She punched Oscar,” Tom replies from behind the bar. “He must have said something inappropriate, as usual. You know how he gets when he’s had a few drinks.”

I take a long inhale through my nose. The fucking bastard.

“How is she?” I cross the distance separating us and rest my hand between her shoulder blades. She doesn’t flinch like I feared she would, which tells me she must really be out of it.

Tom wipes the counter around Charlee. “Pretty drunk.”

I brush a few copper locks away from her face and tuck them behind her ear. She groans, but her eyes stay closed. “Can you give me a glass of water, please?”

“Sure thing.” He grabs a glass and fills it up, then hands it to me. “I gave her one already, but she hasn’t touched it.”

“Thanks.” I massage Charlee’s neck. “Char, come on, it’s time to go home.” She lifts her head and opens her eyes, and I slide the water to her, dropping my other hand from her sweaty skin. “Drink.”

She takes it, mumbling something I can’t understand. I stay next to her while she downs the glass and regains a bit of consciousness. It takes a couple of minutes for her eyes to change from the glazed-over state they were in moments ago.

I try again. “Let me drive you home. Come on.”

“Home. Your house isn’t home,” she mumbles.

Oh yeah, she’s better, all right.

“Let’s go.” I help her up, and she grabs my arm to stabilize herself. “Thanks, Tom,” I say over my shoulder before we head outside.