Chapter Forty-Three
CHARLIE
Magnolia handed the letter back to me with both hands, like it was sacred. Or dangerous. Maybe both.
“Wow,” was all she said. Her voice barely carried above the rustle of the trees.
“Exactly,” Sutton muttered, beginning her fifth lap around the bench like a caged animal. “And exactly why we are still sitting on this bench in this damn square in Savannah and not jetting down the highway on our way to Newnan is beyond me.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The letter sat in my lap, my thumb rubbing across the spot where Tally had signed her name. Always waving.
“You’re gonna need to do something eventually, Charlie,” Sutton said, spinning on her heel and pointing at me. “Because sitting here looking like a heartbroken Labrador isn’t a strategy.”
“I’m thinking,” I said, though it sounded like a lie even to me.
Magnolia let out a quiet sigh, her eyes still fixed on the little fountain in the center of the square.
“Do you really think she wants to hear from me?” I asked. “That she meant any of that?”
Sutton threw her hands up. “God, men are exhausting. That letter was practically a love song and a GPS coordinate.”
“She’s not wrong,” Magnolia said, finally looking at me. “Tally doesn’t throw words around like that unless she means them. You know that.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” Magnolia said gently. “But hard doesn’t mean wrong.”
Sutton flopped down onto the bench beside me, exasperated. “You love her. She clearly loves you. There’s a baby involved. What the hell are you waiting for?”
I stared down at the letter again, trying to make sense of the mess in my chest. I wanted to go. I did. But what if I’d already missed my chance?
“She’s not waving because she’s lonely,” Magnolia said, her voice soft. “She’s waving because she believes you’ll see her. Don’t prove her wrong.”
I turned toward my sister. Quiet, sad eyes and a crumpled frame sat next to me. She was destroyed, too. Our lives were upended. The romances, the fire, the bar, gone forever. She needed me.
I needed her, too.
“You need me here, Magnolia, I…”
She shook her head, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “I don’t need you, Charlie. I like having you around because you’re not only my brother, but you’re my best friend, too. But I do not need you to fix me.”
Looking back out over the square, Magnolia took another deep breath, arms crossed tight over her chest like she was holding something in. Or maybe keeping something safe.
“Tally doesn’t need you to fix her, either, you know,” she said, voice steady. “She just needs you to stand beside her. Not in front of her. Not behind. Beside. Do you get the difference?”
Sutton and I groaned in unison.
“You two are insufferable,” Sutton muttered, pushing off the bench. “We should be in the truck speeding down I-75. But yes, please, continue being wise and poetic, Magnolia.”
Magnolia smirked but didn’t take her eyes off the fountain. “The point is, Charlie… you’ve spent your whole life trying to hold things together. Me. Uncle Cole. The bar. Everyone but yourself. And maybe it’s time to stop.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she beat me to it.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, finally turning back to me.
“Really. I’ve got Sutton. Our friends. This wild, ridiculous life I somehow still love—even though a big part of it just went up in flames.
I want you to go live yours. Find your family.
Build it. Be in it. And one day, when we’ve both got the love we deserve, we can come back together.
Not to fix what broke. But to celebrate what we built. ”
A knot lodged in my throat. I swallowed hard, trying to push it down, but it stayed right there—grit and hope all mixed together.
“We’ll still be us,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Just… bigger.”