Chapter 24 Charlotte
TWENTY-FOUR
CHARLOTTE
“Can you make it up the stairs?” I ask, steadying Koda as we reach the front door of our cabin.
“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth, but his weight leans heavily against my shoulder.
“You’re not fine.” I fumble with the keys, my hands still shaking from everything that’s happened. “And we both know it.”
Koda winces as we step inside. His free hand presses against his ribs.
“Just need to clean up. Then I’ll be good as new.”
“Right.” I guide him toward the bathroom, noting how carefully he moves, how he favors his left side. “Because that’s exactly how injuries work.”
“Are you being sarcastic with me right now?”
Despite his pain, there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Maybe a little.”
I flip on the bathroom light, immediately wishing I hadn’t when the harsh fluorescent bulb reveals the full extent of the damage.
The bathroom light casts harsh shadows across Koda’s battered face as I help him onto the closed toilet lid.
Blood has dried in dark streaks down his chin and neck. The stains mar the collar of his shirt. His right eye is swollen nearly shut, and a nasty cut above it still oozes.
My hands tremble as I wet a washcloth with warm water.
This is my fault. All of it.
My father’s fists connecting with Koda’s body. The friendship shattered in that hallway. The impossible choice hanging over us like a storm cloud.
“Hold still,” I whisper, gently pressing the cloth to his split lip.
Koda winces but remains motionless. His good eye follows my movements.
I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. Can’t bear to see the pain I’ve caused reflected there.
“We should go to the hospital.” I rinse the cloth and watch pink water swirl down the drain. “That cut needs stitches. And your ribs—”
“I’m fine.” His voice comes out rough. Each word is clearly painful. “Better here with you than in some ER.”
I open the first aid kit with shaking fingers.
“This will sting,” I warn, dabbing antiseptic on the cut above his eye.
Koda doesn’t flinch.
His massive body, usually so powerful and invincible, looks vulnerable under the harsh bathroom light. Purple bruises bloom across his jaw and cheekbone.
His knuckles remain unmarked.
The most damning evidence that he never once defended himself against my father’s rage.
“Please reconsider the hospital.” I apply a butterfly bandage to the worst cut. “What if something’s broken inside? What if—”
“Charlotte.” He catches my wrist as I reach for another antiseptic wipe. His grip is gentle despite his battered hands. “Stop.”
The simple command breaks something inside me.
Tears flood my eyes and spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. I bite my lip hard and try to hold back the sob building in my chest.
“I’m so sorry.” The words come out choked, inadequate. “This is all my fault. If I had just told him sooner, or if we’d—”
Koda’s hand releases my wrist to cup my cheek. His thumb catches a falling tear.
“Baby, look at me.”
I shake my head and still avoid his gaze.
“Charlotte.” His voice softens. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I raise my eyes to his.
Koda shifts and winces slightly. He pulls me between his legs where he sits. His hands frame my face and hold me so I can’t look away.
“This isn’t on you,” he says firmly. “I knew what I was getting into. We both did.”
“But he was your best friend.” My voice breaks on the words. “And now he—”
“I love you.” Koda’s thumbs stroke my cheeks and wipe away tears. “I love our baby. Nothing changes that. Not even this.”
Fresh tears blur my vision.
How can he be so calm? So certain? His body is a map of pain. Each bruise and cut is a landmark of my father’s betrayal.
Yet he sits here comforting me as if I’m the injured one.
“I don’t regret anything,” he tells me, his voice dropping to that deep rumble that vibrates through my chest. “Not one second with you. If this is the price, I’d pay it again.”
Something flickers across Koda’s battered face.
Relief. Gratitude. Love so intense it steals my breath.
I lean forward and rest my forehead against his. I’m careful to avoid his injuries.
“I don’t deserve you.”
His arms encircle me and pull me closer despite what must be agonizing pain in his ribs.
“You deserve everything. And I’m going to spend my life making sure you get it.”
We stay like that for long minutes. My tears gradually subside. Eventually, I pull back and finish tending his wounds in silence. When I help him remove his ruined shirt, the bruises mapping his torso make me wince.
But Koda never complains. He just endures every touch without complaint.
His jaw is set in that familiar expression of stoic determination I’ve come to know so well.
He doesn’t wince when I press too hard on a tender spot.
Doesn’t curse when I accidentally catch the edge of a cut with the washcloth.
He just breathes through it. His chest rises and falls in measured rhythm like he’s meditating through the pain.
The silence stretches between us as I work. Only the soft drip of water from the faucet and his controlled breathing break the quiet. This is Koda at his most vulnerable and somehow his strongest. Accepting care without complaint and bearing pain without self-pity.
When I’m done, I shake two ibuprofen tablets into my palm and hand them to him along with a glass of water. “Here. This should help with the swelling.”
He swallows them without argument and slowly pushes himself up from the toilet seat. I hover beside him and am ready to catch him if he stumbles, but he moves carefully on his own toward the door.
The journey to the living room takes twice as long as usual.
“Should I call Dana?” I ask as Koda finally lowers himself onto the couch with visible effort. “She should probably know what happened.”
“No.” His response is immediate and firm. “I’ll deal with her in the morning.”
I want to argue, but something in his tone stops me. He’s already handling more than any person should have to. Adding his sister to tonight’s burden seems cruel.
Hours later, I lie in our bed and listen to Koda’s steady breathing beside me.
Sleep claimed him quickly. His body finally surrendered to exhaustion and pain. But my mind won’t quiet and won’t stop replaying the events of the day.
This morning feels like a lifetime ago. The showcase victory that seemed so important now feels hollow.
I think about Dad and how close we used to be. After Mom died, it was just the two of us. He taught me to change a tire and balance a checkbook. I taught him to braid hair and fold fitted sheets. We had our own language of inside jokes and shared memories.
I thought nothing could break that.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I press my hand to my belly. I feel the gentle flutter of our daughter’s movements. She’s so active tonight, like she can sense something’s wrong.
My baby girl.
“Me and your daddy are going to fix this,” I whisper to my belly. “I promise.”
I don’t know how. Don’t even know if it’s possible. But I have to try. For her. For all of us.
This little girl deserves to know her grandfather. She deserves better than the mess we’ve made of things.
My hand traces circles on my stomach as her movements gradually settle. The house creaks around us and mountain wind whistles through the pines outside. Koda’s breathing remains deep and even. His body is finally getting the rest it needs to heal.
I close my eyes and try to follow him into sleep, but my mind keeps spinning. Ways to reach Dad. Words that might bridge the gap between us. Some path back to the family we used to be.
It won’t be easy. Might not even be possible.
But as I finally drift off, one thought keeps me going. Love this deep doesn’t just disappear. It has to go somewhere.
And maybe it can find its way back to us.
I wake up the next morning and reach for Koda, only to find cold emptiness where his warmth should be.
Instantly, my eyes snap open.
Momentary panic grips me until I hear the rhythmic thud from outside.
Thwack. Pause. Thwack. Pause.
The familiar sound of the axe splitting wood pulls me from bed despite my exhaustion from a nearly sleepless night.
I push aside the curtain and squint against the brightness.
Koda is standing outside in the clearing beside our woodpile, shirtless despite the cool mountain air. His back ripples with muscle as he lifts the axe overhead and brings it down in one powerful stroke.
The log splits cleanly and halves fall to either side.
I sigh.
What is he doing? He can barely breathe without wincing, yet here he is, chopping wood like it’s any normal morning.
I throw on Koda’s flannel shirt over my sleep shorts and step onto the porch.
The crisp air raises goosebumps on my bare legs. From here, I can see the full extent of what my father did.
Purple-black bruises map Koda’s torso, stark against his tan skin. The bandage above his eye is spotted with fresh blood. His split lip has reopened, and a thin line of crimson is visible even from where I stand.
Thwack.
Another log falls.
Koda pauses and presses one hand against his ribs. A flash of pain crosses his face before determination replaces it.
My voice carries across the yard. “Koda, you should be resting.”
Koda turns with the axe balanced in his hand. Even with his battered face, he manages a small smile when he sees me.
“Morning, beautiful.”
He makes no move to stop and just positions another log on the chopping block. The muscles in his arms flex as he raises the axe again. His strength both impresses and terrifies me. This man absorbed my father’s rage without fighting back, yet could fell a forest with these same powerful hands.
I step off the porch, and the dew-soaked grass is cold against my bare feet.
“Koda, please. Your body needs to heal.”
“I’m fine.” He brings the axe down, and another log surrenders to his force. “We need firewood before winter hits.”
“Winter is months away.” I cross my arms and try to project authority despite being barefoot and wrapped in his oversized flannel.
Koda doesn’t pause in his rhythm.
“Better to be prepared.”
I watch him position another log and note how he favors his left side. The stubborn man is going to work himself into the ground before admitting he’s hurt.
I give up on reasoning with him for now. “Well, at least let me bring you some coffee.”
“That sounds perfect.” His smile is genuine this time, though it pulls at his split lip.
I pad back into the cabin and head into the kitchen. I fill the coffee maker with water, add grounds, and hit the brew button. The familiar gurgling sound fills the silence.
While I wait, my phone lights up on the counter with an incoming call.
Adrian’s face stares back at me from the display.
I frown, immediately annoyed. I probably shouldn’t even answer it. Koda told me to stay away from him.
I let it go to voicemail.
The phone immediately starts ringing again.
My irritation spikes. What could he possibly want that’s so urgent he can’t wait for me to call back?
Against my better judgment, I swipe to answer.
“What do you want, Adrian?” I snap.
“Hey, Charlotte.” His voice is overly cheerful, like we’re old friends catching up. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Reach me for what?”
“You left your trophy behind at the school. I found it backstage after everyone cleared out.” He pauses, and I can practically hear his smile through the phone. “I figured you’d want it back, considering you worked so hard for it.”
My heart sinks.
In all the chaos with my Dad, I’d completely forgotten about the trophy. Sarah and I had earned first place, and I’d just abandoned it on the hallway floor.
“Do you want me to leave it at the front desk for you?” Adrian asks.
I hesitate. Something about this feels off.
But I do want my trophy back.
“Sure. Just leave it on Ms. Patterson’s desk.”
“Perfect. It’ll be there whenever you want to swing by and grab it.”
I hang up without saying goodbye and immediately feel uneasy about the whole conversation. But the coffee maker finishes brewing and pulls my attention back to the present.
I pour two cups and add cream to mine while leaving Koda’s black the way he prefers. The mugs warm my hands as I carry them outside.
Koda has stopped chopping and leans against the axe handle. Sweat beads on his forehead despite the cool air.
“Here.” I hand him his coffee and note how carefully he moves to accept it.
“Thank you.” He takes a long sip and his eyes close briefly in appreciation.
“I need to run down to the school and pick up my trophy,” I tell him. “I left it behind yesterday in all the chaos.”
Koda’s expression immediately becomes alert.
“You want me to come with you?”
“No.” I shake my head and think maybe some time alone will help him clear his head and process everything that happened with my Dad. “It’ll just take a few minutes. You should rest.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but something in my expression must convince him not to push.
“All right. Drive safe. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek and am careful to avoid his injuries.
Back inside, I change quickly into jeans and a sweater, then grab my keys and purse.
The drive down the mountain feels different today. Heavier somehow. Everything looks the same, the winding roads, the pine trees, the valley spreading out below. But it all feels altered by yesterday’s revelations.
The beauty school parking lot is nearly empty when I arrive. Just one other car is parked near the far end.
My footsteps echo as I walk across the asphalt toward the main entrance.
The front doors are locked, as expected on a Sunday. I use my student key card to get inside and the hallway lights flicker on automatically as I enter.
The building feels strange when it’s empty.
My footsteps sound unnaturally loud on the polished floors as I make my way toward classroom three.
I push open the door and scan Ms. Patterson’s desk.
Nothing.
No trophy, no note, nothing that indicates Adrian was ever here.
Confusion prickles at the back of my neck. Maybe he put it somewhere else?
I check the other desks, the supply cabinets, even the floor around the instructor’s station.
Nothing.
A voice behind me makes me freeze.
“Hello, Charlotte.”