Chapter 4
COLTON
The day had been a long and arduous one, but the ceremony was coming to a close, my mother lowered into her resting place.
I’d ignored my father since I turned my back on him and had no intention of acknowledging his existence. I had bulldozed past disappointment and straight into resentment.
I missed the numbness, the sense of nothingness. He’s even managed to steal that, the selfish prick.
My thoughts and emotions worked overtime as the most recent revelations literally rewired my brain. I was trying to correlate the loving father I knew with the cowardly man standing in his place.
Despite knowing him all my life, William had become someone I did not recognise. A stranger, a nobody, an insignificant entity now banished to the periphery of my existence. Although he physically stood beside me, a gaping chasm was all that remained in the space between us.
I didn’t care how it looked when he silently sobbed alone. I didn’t care how his body shook with uncontrollable tremors. I didn’t care how he begged for a hug, a touch, a kind word—anything. I didn’t care.
Knowing his pleas were futile, William soon departed like the rest, the temperature cooling with the rising of the moon.
I stared at my mother’s gravestone, my vision catching on her name and the inscription.
Bethany Richards
Beloved Wife a hint of jasmine coated the air.
“I’m sorry I missed the service. I heard it was beautiful.”
You’re beautiful, I thought, my gaze catching on Charlotte’s unblemished skin. She had come straight from work, as shown by her wrinkled scrubs and the loose plait of light brown hair.
Despite experiencing one of the worst days ever, something seemed to settle inside me. Barely there, but present all the same, and for the first time since my mother’s death, I felt safe… Because of Charlotte.
“You didn’t have to come,” I said. But I’m glad you did.
“You hear that, Beth? I just got here, and your son wants to get rid of me already.” She clucked. “As if I could resist coming to see my favourite patient.”
If she were anyone else, I would have called bullshit. But over those final weeks, I had gotten to know Charlotte. She was genuine, a true carer, and Mum absolutely adored her—which she never let me forget.
A recent memory took over. One of the last times I’d heard Mum truly laugh.
“I’m going to match you up with my nurse, son. She’s beautiful, smart and—”
“Let me guess,” I drawled. “She’s old?”
I’d clocked the staff who worked on the palliative ward. All a bunch of old-timers who were pushing retirement.
“Colt, don’t be rude.”
“Is it rude if it’s the truth?” Her expression soured, unimpressed with my sound reasoning. I smirked. “Fine. Just answer this one question. Is she older than me?”
Mum pursed her lips. “Technically…”
“What does that mean?” I asked, not able to hold in my chuckle. “Give it to me straight, Mum. Is she older than twenty?”
“Now, son, age is nothing but a number…”
I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, keep saying that. Until I shake her elderly hand and catch Alzheimer’s.”
“Colt!”
Oh, hell. Here we go. But just as I was about to respond, a light knock sounded from the doorway. “I’ve got your lunchtime medications here, Beth.”
“Thanks, Charlotte.”
My eyes widened at the gorgeous nurse who entered the room. Charlotte was petite, with soft features and a dazzling smile. The complete opposite of what I had envisioned.
I stood quietly in the corner, watching them banter back and forth as Mum swallowed her pain relief.
Once finished, Charlotte veered for the exit, which immediately filled me with urgency. I hadn’t spoken a word to her. I should at least introduce myself, right?
Stepping forward, I blurted, “I’m Colton… Um, Beth’s son.”
Mum’s grin turned smug, expression gleaming with knowing. “Yes, sorry. Charlotte, this is my twenty-year-old son, Colton.”
Did she have to mention my age?
Charlotte looked me over with staged politeness, and when I offered her a handshake, she left me hanging, intentionally blanking me.
My smile faltered from the rejection—in front of my own mother, no less. Just when I thought I’d hit the peak of my embarrassment, Charlotte raised those creamy brown eyes to mine.
“Unfortunately, I can’t shake your hand, Colton. You see, I’m twenty-four years old. Borderline geriatric. I wouldn’t want to give you Alzheimer’s.”
She’d heard every last humiliating word. With that parting blow, Charlotte winked, then walked out, leaving me stupefied. Mum had no such qualms, raucous laughter rattling from her chest.
To hear that sound from my sick mum filled me with so much joy that the awkward interaction was worth everything.
A light breeze swept through the cemetery, catching on a stray hair that had come loose from Charlotte’s braid.
I caught the flyaway between my fingers, tenderly tucking it behind her ear.
“I’m leaving,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I was telling her. I guessed because I had no one else to tell.
“When?”
“Now.”
“Don’t you have things to sort out? Your mum’s will? Estate? Belongings?”
I shrugged. “Mum didn’t have much. And whatever she did have will go to my dad anyway. I want to make a clean break.”
“Beth always knew you were destined for great things. Even told me about that fancy scholarship.”
“She’s my mother. Of course she’d say that.” I gave a half-smile for the sentimentality. “Thank you, Charlotte. For everything.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You were there when no one else was… You’re here now.” I flexed the hand that wanted to reach out and touch her. “Can I hug you goodbye?”
She swallowed, then gave a nod. Accepting her approval, I enveloped her in a crushing hug, the scent of jasmine layering over my skin like a comforting blanket.
When we eventually pulled out of our embrace, Charlotte looked up at me with shining eyes, awareness catching on to my pain. She could see it all. Empathy soon morphed her features. For me.
“Ahh, looks like I contaminated you with my old person’s disease. Side effects may include memory loss,” she said, fake concern coating her voice. “Maybe you’ll leave and forget this place… and not be able to find your way back.”
“Maybe that’s my intention.”
Charlotte raised a finger to catch the single tear running down my cheek—one I didn’t realise had fallen. The first of the day.
“Do what you must to survive, Colton. Healing is not linear or straightforward. If leaving here… If leaving your father is what you need to heal, then I wish you well on your journey.”
Why did talking to that woman, who was a legitimate stranger, feel so pivotal? Why did I sense she had given me the permission I needed to take that first step? To follow the path I was thrust upon?
“I’ll keep her company, Colton. She won’t be alone.”
Who is this magnificent creature who has given me everything I want without asking for anything in return? In a world submerged in grief and darkness, she was my single spark of light.
Using her words to push myself into action, I said my final goodbyes to my mum, kissed her headstone and turned away.
My eyes remained on my parked car in the distance—my escape. I took one step, then another, until I paused, refusing to even glance in her direction.
“Goodbye, Charlotte.” Please don’t reply. I don’t think I’ll leave if you say a single word.
As if she could sense my desperation, Charlotte followed through with my silent request.
It gave me one final burst of power to get in the car and leave my life behind.