Chapter 31
COLTON
Two years later…
A popular tune played over the car radio as I drove down the main street of town. When I came to a halt at the red light, my humming cut off mid-note.
The innocuous action took me off guard. I couldn’t remember the last time my mind was clear enough to enjoy a mere song, let alone hum alongside it.
I smiled at the new revelation, pushing down on the accelerator as the traffic light turned green.
Two years had passed since I’d inevitably let go of my vendetta against William. Of course, I had to leave one final parting gift, but that was for my mother’s benefit, not mine.
Since then, I had made great changes. I blocked all forms of contact with William, including the toxic kind, via private investigators and deep diving on the internet.
When I left him behind, he was still working part-time in the mechanic shop I’d taken, then sold to another.
There was no news that he had passed, so I could only assume he remained alive and kicking.
I had come a long way in regard to him. Previously, the mere thought of William would send me spinning into an endless vortex of pent-up aggression. Now, I was an apathetic shell, with no energy to spare for someone of so little worth.
It also helped that the two people responsible for my fucked-up issues had been dealt their fair retribution.
Nikita was locked in a prison cell for the rest of her scumbag existence, her daughter left struggling to make ends meet without a rich sugar daddy or mummy dearest to save her.
And William? He had nothing, living out the rest of his years alone, with no true friend in sight.
Sure, I was a reformed bad boy. Yet, I couldn’t lie and say that the knowledge of their downfall didn’t comfort me at night.
Old habits die hard, I guess.
I was at the stage where I didn’t wish him any further ill will. I just didn’t want to waste more of my life on him.
The adjustment wasn’t sudden. If anything, I was still on the path of recovery and would probably never get off.
Some days, those old feelings of hopelessness would resurface to the point I was drowning in past trauma.
Yet, as I continued to chip away and work on myself, those episodes became few and far between.
I wished I could say my healing journey was straightforward, that with professional therapy and mind-numbing medications, I was miraculously cured, but my brain wasn’t wired that way.
All of those options were a great resource for the right person, as proven by my best friend, Avery. However, I wasn’t the right person.
I genuinely gave those methods a shot. However, I soon got sick of the mumbo jumbo bullshit. I didn’t want to share my pain. For some fucked-up reason, my experience was mine, and I didn’t take kindly to someone taking my vulnerability and telling me how I was supposed to deal with my past.
Instead, I turned to my support system. And let me tell you, no one was more surprised than me. After being plagued with paranoia for years, I had failed to identify how my trust issues impacted the people who cared for me the most.
Avery, Annette, Eloise, Thomas and my new friend, Noah, had all stepped up and proven repeatedly that I could trust in them. Once I let down that shield and accepted them close, it felt as if I was given a refreshing restart on how to live.
I soon thrived under their guidance and jumped back into work with renewed gusto, though I made a conscious effort to carve out personal time for myself, something I had never done before.
I tried new things, found new hobbies and even fell in love with some—I could now proudly bake a delicious lemon meringue pie, which had become my signature dish.
That beauty sat pretty on my passenger seat, strapped up tight, arriving fully intact as I pulled into the restaurant car park for Annette’s fifty-fifth birthday lunch.
I continued to mindlessly hum the catchy tune as I pushed through the front doors with my backside, hands full of pie that I did not want to ruin at the last minute.
“Colton!” Annette cheered from the back of the room. I turned in her direction, a wide grin pulling on my lips, when I caught sight of the woman at her side.
My breath stuttered as my gaze roamed over Charlotte’s bright smile. She was the same, yet so damn different. I catalogued every minute difference; her hair was cut short to her shoulders, a light dusting of freckles sprinkled over her nose, and her eyebrows were slightly more curved than before.
I was immediately obsessed with the changes, wanting to find more, when a sharp ache shot up my leg.
My attention swung to Annette, who had obnoxiously run over my foot with her big-ass wheel. “How many drinks have you had, love? You shouldn’t be operating machinery under the influence.”
Annette rolled her eyes, snatching the pie from my hands. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
I scoffed. “So you just invited me for my world-famous dessert? You wound me.”
“It’s my birthday.”
I inclined my head before dropping a peck to her cheek. “So it is. Happy birthday, old girl.”
She chuckled, then I straightened, and that’s when a potent wisp of jasmine floated through the air, causing me to inhale like an addict.
Annette chuckled. “Keep your cool, amateur.”
Before I could reprimand her, she was already rolling away in her wheelchair, proving she had run over me on purpose.
That thought process was soon totalled as Charlotte looked up from across the room, caught me staring, and before I could die of shame, was already beelining for me.
I went with the motions of basic etiquette. As she moved in for a hug, I held on gently, gentlemanly. Although I didn’t want to.
Despite her period away, my feelings hadn’t diminished. Not one bit—as proven by my teen-boy reactions that I couldn’t control.
“Colt?” she asked.
“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” Shit, dude, get a grip.
“I said thank you for looking out for Mum. When I extended my travels for another year, I felt so damn guilty. But she reassured me that she wasn’t alone. I’m beyond grateful to you for being here for her.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “No need to thank me. I enjoy her company just as much. And you shouldn’t feel guilty about travelling, Charlotte. We’re both glad you’re living your best life.”
Her gaze locked on mine when I said, “We’re.” Shit. Abort.
“Umm, has Gareth returned with you?” I asked.
Yes, I learnt the name of her doctor fiancé. Yes, I could now say it without a scowl—barely. And yes, that was a reasonable, normal, non-weird question to ask, thank you very much.
Charlotte’s expression flashed with surprise before her head cocked to the side. “Gareth and I broke up in Europe, about a year ago. Mum didn’t tell you?”
“Ah, no.” That bloody old swindler.
I awkwardly cleared my throat to distract from my pulse that had picked up in rhythm. “So, where are you travelling to next?”
“I’m going to stick around for a while. Nothing like home, you know? Every time I spoke with Mum, I got homesick.”
“You must have missed her.”
Charlotte gave me a shy smile, her brown eyes shining with something special. “She’s not the only one.”