Chapter 35 No Contact
No Contact
Charlie | The Past
No one tells you about the pitfalls waiting after betrayal.
No one warns you about the floods of pain and anger, or the wild swings between hope and despair.
One day, hope fills your lungs, and you think you’re finally recovering.
Next, you’re unraveling, yelling at the mirror because you’re nowhere near as restored as you believed.
Suddenly, you’re grieving the life you lost all over again.
I didn’t know any of this until therapy.
Naively, I believed that just showing up would cure me, that the pain, the rage, the sadness would simply disappear.
Rebecca warned me that healing wasn't linear. She said I should expect to suddenly feel not okay when everything seemed to be falling into place. She warned me to watch for the unknown triggers—the ones that would sneak up on you without warning.
I still can’t fathom why I ignored Rebecca’s warnings. I convinced myself I was healing. I forced smiles, chased laughter, clung to tiny sparks of joy. Deep down, I knew her advice was right, but I refused to let it in.
If Keaton hadn’t walked through the doors of Grinders today, maybe I wouldn’t have been hit so brutally with the truth. I’m nowhere near healed.
I’m dealing with a customer when he strolls in, and I don’t have time to do much more than shoot him a smile.
Some days, seeing him is effortless. Other days, just a glance fills me with sadness and anger. On those days, nausea rises and memories claw their way back, refusing to let me move forward.
That alone should have been a red flag that I was forcing myself to be fine with his presence.
Warning signs are not my thing, it seems.
Keaton waits quietly at the edge of the counter, his tattooed hands buried in his pockets. When I finally face him, he greets me with a warmth I can’t quite trust.
“Hey. Do you think you could give me a few minutes of your time?” he asks in a serious voice.
My gaze drifts over him, tracing the new ink winding across his muscles as he shifts restlessly.
He’s definitely added more since the last time I saw him around.
A flicker of something volatile sparks inside me, chased quickly by a shiver of fear.
Nope. No way. No freaking way.
I step back, arms hugging my ribs. "I don’t know."
“Please? I promise this won’t take long.”
His eyes beg me for something I’m not sure I can give. I bite my lip, curiosity winning out. I sigh. "Fine. Go sit down. I’ll grab a coffee."
His shoulders sag as he walks away. I turn, putting my back to him and everything he brings with him.
I don’t care that something weighs heavily on him.
I don’t.
My hand trembles as I slam the cup down. I stab the scooper into the ice, cursing under my breath, and pile on the chips. White chocolate mocha in hand, I stride out from behind the counter, every step fueled by adrenaline.
"You’ve got a few minutes," I say, dropping into the booth with a heavy thud.
Keaton fidgets, picking at anything on the table to avoid my eyes. To a stranger, he might look guilty. But I know him. Or at least, I used to.
Or at least, I did.
This is what Keaton is like when he’s nervous.
It doesn’t comfort me. If anything, it makes my nerves prickle.
“Would you just tell me whatever you came to say? You can’t break me any more than I already am.”
His head jerks up at my cracked words, his eyes wide and filled with regret at the pain he hears in them.
“God. Fuck no, Charlie. I’m so sorry that’s your first thought.” He sits back and rubs his hands over his ashen face. “I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know what made me think this was a good idea.”
“What wasn’t a good idea?”
“Coming here to see if you’d come have dinner with me.”
“Like a date?” I ask incredulously.
He nods. “But you’re not ready for that.”
“And I don’t know if I ever will be, Keaton.
You cheated on me. But more than that, I have to live with the visuals.
Every day. One minute, I’m sure they’re finally gone, and the next, they’re popping up like a fucking Jack in the Box to show me what a fool I am.
Do you know what that’s like? Having to go to sleep every night, and that being the thing you see when you close your eyes?
I hate it, and in those moments, I hate you, too.
And here you are. I have to see you. I have to hear from you.
How am I supposed to have the chance to heal properly when you’re still fucking everywhere?
My head. My heart. My damn life. How do I do that, Keaton?
Because I want to do that. I want to look at you without hurting.
I’d love to hear your voice without cringing.
I’d love, I’d absolutely freaking love, to have one conversation with you without me being so angry.
I’m tired of my emotions being all over the place because I’m not as healed as I thought I was. ”
I swipe at my tears, frustration burning in my chest, and keep going.
“But more than being angry at you, I’m angry with myself because I haven’t been able to tell you I need space.
Space where you don’t call, where you don’t write.
Where you don’t come to my workplace. I need time when I don’t hear you, see you, or fucking think of you.
You broke me, Keaton, but I keep hurting myself because I can’t bring myself to be cold and to turn my back on you when I know you’re hurting, too.
But I have to, don’t I? I have to put myself first. I have to actually do what I said I was going to when I found you fucking Rihanna.
I have to say no. I have to go no contact with you.
I have to put myself first. I can’t think about your pain.
Pain that you caused us both. Because I don’t want to hate you for the rest of my life, Keaton.
I didn’t just lose the person I loved when you cheated on me.
I lost my best friend too, and sometimes I think that hurts the most.”
Watching our tears fall, my heart twists painfully.
“How did we get here? How did I let us get here?” he whispers brokenly.
Reaching over, I capture his hand with mine and marvel at the differences that weren’t there nine months ago.
“Somewhere along the way, our love stopped being enough.” I shake my head when he opens his mouth to refute it.
“No. Just stop and listen. It did, Keaton. Our love stopped being enough for you. I don’t know why, but I know that it did.
Because if it didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.
You’re going to run into people you’re attracted to throughout your life.
We all do. Every single person. It doesn’t mean we act on it.
We acknowledge it, then ignore it, and move on.
The person you love, the person you promise to spend your life with, has to be enough for you to want to walk away from that attraction.
Not run towards it. And no matter what you say, Keaton, you did.
Every time you walked out our door to go spend time with her as “friends”, you were running towards it.
There had to be a part of you that knew where it would eventually lead.
You have to come to terms with that. More than that, you need to admit it, even if it’s to yourself.
To do anything less would be doing the love we had a disservice.
The love we had? It’s owed that. Hell, I’m owed that.
I don’t know what’s going to happen when you walk out of here, but I know that I won’t be seeing you for a while.
I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want to see you.
I need time to heal, Keaton. I thought the time I asked for in the beginning was enough, but it’s not. ”
“I’m sorry. If you struggle to believe anything I say, please don’t struggle to believe that.” He climbs from the booth, pulling me up with him.
I stand before him, both of us blinking through tears, knowing this is the end.
Our real goodbye. It should have come after he cheated, but I was too afraid to cut him out completely.
I couldn’t face the truth that we were finished, that he had shattered us.
Now, I am ready. Ready to heal. Ready to discover who I am without Keaton.
For real this time.