Chapter 31 I Don’t Think We’ve Been Introduced
I Don't Think We've Been Introduced
Charlie | The Past
Alek, Amelia, and I spill out of the Uber, nerves buzzing as we head for the bar’s glowing entrance. I tell myself I won’t drink much, but we all know plans can change in a heartbeat.
Better safe than sorry.
Every time the door swings open, music spills out, wrapping around the comings and goings.
Friends tumble into waiting cars, couples share secret smiles on their way out, and new arrivals clutch hands as they step inside.
Outside, a smoky circle of laughter and conversation grows as people wait for their night to begin.
I lose track of time, letting waves of emotion crash over me as I take it all in. Amelia stands steady on one side, Alek on the other, both patient and silent. Their quiet support makes my love for them swell until it aches.
My heart thunders, wild and unpredictable, threatening to break free from my chest. It’s been pounding ever since I spotted Keaton’s truck parked right by the entrance.
“Charlie?” Amelia says softly, reaching out to tangle her fingers with mine. “We can walk away now. Go back home. We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and hold it for a few seconds before blowing it out slowly, repeating the steps a couple more times, like Rebecca showed me. Once my anxiety has worked its way back under the surface, I open my eyes.
My thoughts sharpen, the storm inside me settling into a quiet calm.
I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “No. It’s time.” I squeeze Amelia’s hand, offering them both a brave smile. “I’m ready, really. This won’t be easy, but I think the hardest part is already behind me. Don’t you think?”
Amelia drops my hand and lifts both of hers to cup my face.
She drops her face toward mine and presses our foreheads together.
“You never fail to astound me with how fucking strong you are, Char. You’re the best fucking friend a girl could ask for, and I’d go to damn war for you.
I don’t know what the future holds for you and Keaton, but I’m going to be right here with you every step of the way.
” She pulls away, and her eyes are fierce while her mouth draws tight.
“But I will promise you this. If he ever fucking hurts you like this again, I will not hesitate to make his intestines my new jewelry. It’ll go well with the orange jumpsuit I’ll be wearing in my motherfucking mugshot.
” Amelia squeezes my cheeks together, drops a quick kiss to the tip of my nose, and steps back. “Ride or die, babycakes.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I widen them in a hurry while fanning them with my hand to keep them from falling. “Fuck. Now, look at what you did.”
“Feeling totally inadequate over here, ladies,” Alek grumbles, his hand brushing against my back.
We laugh, and the moment breaks.
“All right. Let’s do this,” I say, taking the first step toward the door.
Each step toward the door feels lighter. Alek and Amelia trail behind, letting me lead the way, and I’m grateful for it. Part of me wants to shrink back, to hide, but I know it’s time to stop running. Time to drop the mask and face the world, and the man who almost shattered mine.
The music gets louder as I pull open the doors, and I’m hit with the overwhelming scent of barley, whiskey, body sweat, and terrible decisions.
Two people are up on a stage singing an off-tune rendition of Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond while the crowd joins in drunken joy.
The carefreeness of it all makes me smile as I make my way through the wave of bodies strewn about the area.
Smiling comes easier with each passing day. I’m rediscovering the little joys that once made me happy. The road ahead is still long, but every morning I wake up and Keaton’s betrayal isn’t the first thing I think of, it feels like a small victory. It gives me hope.
Alek grabs my hand, tangling our fingers together and taking over the lead when I seem to get pushed around more than I make progress moving through people.
With him at my front and Amelia at my back, the crowd gives us room until we’re finally through the thick of it and standing in front of a group of people.
My body betrays me, flickering between heat and chills as we stop in front of Keaton. He sits beside another guy, who looks trapped in his own misery, eyes fixed on the drink he turns restlessly in his hand.
David spins on his barstool, his eyes sparking when they spot Amelia. His lips curve flirtatiously. “Hey, there, sugar. Around you, I’m like a complex word. Hard and long,” he says to her with a wink.
I wrinkle my nose, barely containing my laughter at how awful that line was. I brace myself, knowing Amelia is about to verbally devour him.
Amelia moves past me and squeezes between David and Keaton.
She rolls her eyes over David’s body with a hint of disdain that, only from years of being friends with her, I know is fake.
“Funny. The last I recall, around me, you were like my last phone call with that fucking unwanted telemarketer. Lackluster and barely lasted ten seconds.” She turns to the bartender. “Vodka on the rocks.”
David’s expression is too much, and I can’t hold back anymore. Laughter bursts out of me, so sudden and fierce I nearly lose my balance. Alek steadies me, but my laughter fades when I see Keaton watching me, pain etched deep in his eyes. It’s as if my laughter revives him, but every breath hurts.
I give him a shy smile, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "Hi."
Keaton climbs slowly to his feet, watching to make sure his movements don't startle me. It doesn't, but my breathing picks up as it moves him closer to me.
Alek drops my hand and steps away toward David.
Panic prickles along my skin as I glance at him. He meets my gaze, nodding encouragement, his eyes promising he’ll stay close if I need him. That silent reassurance soothes the storm inside me, and I manage a grateful smile.
When I peer back over at Keaton, he's watching the interaction between Alek and me with tormented, but understanding, eyes. There used to be a time in our lives when he would be the one I'd seek for comfort and reassurance. He's no longer my safety net, and he knows that.
I watch him take a deep breath before he smiles gently at me and holds out his hand. "Hello, there. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Keaton Carr."
After he cheated, I used to wonder what it would feel like to meet Keaton for the first time as adults, not as childhood sweethearts. This moment is the closest I’ll ever get. There’s a sadness in that, but also a flicker of curiosity about the stranger he’s become.
And that's what he is.
A new person.
He still looks like the boy I once loved, but seven months apart have changed him. He moves with a new heaviness, more cautious and aware. His smiles come slower, his eyes shadowed by pain he can’t quite hide.
I reach out, our hands meeting in a hesitant clasp. Electricity zings up my arm, and I have to resist the urge to pull away. His gaze locks onto mine, unsurprised, as if he always knew the current between us was still alive.
Keaton tightens his fingers around mine, and I spot the flash of fear that passes through his eyes before he blinks, erasing it.
I hate that my mind immediately wonders what secrets he’s keeping. He must read it in my expression, because he exhales quietly and lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.
The sadness in his laugh squeezes my heart.
“Sorry. I was scared you were going to pull away.”
My brows lift in surprise. This vulnerable side of him differs from what I was used to with him. Keaton’s never been huge on vulnerability, but he’d open up to me if he knew I needed that from him. At least, he used to until Rihanna came into our lives.
I lift one shoulder, then let it drop. “I thought about it.”
“Don’t blame you,” he says, removing his hand from mine and shoving it into his pockets.
He nods his head towards the bartender. “Can I get you something to drink?”
At his question, my eyes fall behind him to his drink on the counter. It’s a clear liquid over ice.
What is it? Vodka?
My muscles tense as I battle memories of the last time I saw him drinking. I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings, and he must see them written all over my face. Remorse flickers in his eyes as he reaches for his glass.
“It’s just water, Charlie. I’ve barely touched alcohol since that night.”
A violent shudder racks me, and I clench my teeth, willing myself not to bolt. I know healing won’t come if I keep running from pain. The resolve I brought with me starts to crumble as old wounds surface.
One look into my eyes and he can spot the fight going on inside of me. His posture sags and he lowers his chin to his chest for a minute, as if he’s gathering his thoughts. When he peers back up at me, his eyes are red and vacant.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” he says in a thickened voice. “The last thing I want to do is cause you more pain. I’m going to grab Brock here and we’re going to get out of here, okay?”
There’s a brutal beauty in seeing someone you love break open in front of you. It means they trust you enough to show you the rawest, most fragile parts of themselves.
As he turns away, shoulders slumped in defeat, I draw a deep breath, steeling myself.
For the first time in seven months, I’m ready to offer Keaton a sliver of grace, even if I’m not sure he’s earned it.
The raw pain in his face, the broken posture of someone I once thought unbreakable, and the ache in his voice make it impossible to keep my distance.
It’s the one unfortunate side effect of my empathetic nature.
Tiny pinpricks sting my palm as I uncurl my fist, nail marks etched into my skin.
I act before I can think, afraid that if I hesitate, I’ll turn away, no matter how much his pain tugs at me.