18. Chapter 18
Charlotte
“Right, come on, lazy bones. Wake up!” Wren shouts as she jostles me over the covers.
“Ok, ok. I’m awake. What time is it?” I say over a yawn as I stretch too hard and wince at the pull in my ribs.
“Ten thirty, don’t you think you’re milking this injury thing a bit too much now?” she smirks at me as I roll my eyes at her. I’m going to miss her when I go home.
“Are you sure you can’t come home with me?” I plead, my hands in a praying motion.
“Babe, trust me. If I could, I would, but you’re in great hands with Jake.” She takes a seat next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
Jake, the guy who rushed to me when he heard my nightmare and stayed with me all through the night. It felt so comfortable to be in his embrace, it felt right, like we've done it before.
Guilt hits me again like a smack in the face. I’m one giant burden to this man. I’m upheaving his life having him look after me, and now I’m upheaving his sleep too? I must keep my distance to protect him from the storm that’s brewing inside me.
I’ve made my choice. Once we’ve been to my parents’ and I’m back home in San Diego, I’ll retreat to my safe space and hopefully Jake will have had enough of me and will leave, then I will no longer be his problem.
My chest constricts and my breathing falters just at the thought of him leaving, but I see the pain in his eyes every day I prolong this torture, and I can’t do it to him anymore.
Pushing my pity party to the back of my mind for now, I get dressed, gently throw my hair up in a haphazard bun—careful not to disturb my ribs again—and get ready to leave the suite. Our bags are all packed, so we can go straight to the airport as soon as we’re done at my parents’.
The car journey is silent on our way to the house, my mind a jumble of thoughts; my head is not in the right space to go through everything today.
I’m just going to grab some sentimental items and deal with the rest another time.
Maybe once I’ve healed a bit more, both mentally and physically.
When the grief of losing them doesn’t feel like a dagger through the heart every time I hear their names or see my childhood home.
To be honest, right now, it doesn’t feel like I’ll ever reach that stage.
The eerie silence of my parents’ house echoes all around me. Yesterday, there was noise and chaos and rooms packed with mourners; today, there’s just me, Wren, and Jake. Luckily, Wren had the foresight to bring some boxes for me to take anything I need with me.
I collect some photos, my mom’s jewelry and perfume, along with my dad’s cologne, and right now that’s all I really need.
The rest can wait. My eyes water as I trail my fingers over Mom and Dad’s wedding photo; they were so happy and in love.
Wiping my eyes on my sleeve, I look up at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and Jake appears with a massive box.
“What have you got there?” I ask, trying to mask that I’m crying…again.
“It’s a box full of journals and letters I wrote to you. I thought maybe it could be helpful,” he shrugs, and the tips of his ears turn pink.
Wow, he wrote me letters? There are a lot of them. He doesn't strike me as the type, but I guess I shouldn’t judge a book by its gorgeous cover. I need to ask him about these.
“We wrote a lot of letters by the size of that box.” I dip my head, pointing to the colossal box he’s holding.
“Yeah, well we’ve been best friends since we were 10, and we wrote to each other every week until senior year in high school when we thought it was time to move to texts and calls.”
That’s some serious commitment on our part. I can’t help but feel awed by this man. He wants me to remember him as desperately as I want to, and I’ll definitely read them when I’m in a better headspace. For now, I just want to go home and curl up in bed with my dog, watch trash TV, and never leave.
Deciding I have everything I need for now, I hand the keys over to Wren. Her parents are going to be overseeing the maintenance of the grounds and things while I decide what to do with the property. They really are the best.
“Are you sure you have everything?” she asks.
“Yep,” I nod my head and blow out a breath. “I’m ready to go home now.”
Wren squeezes my shoulder. “Ok babe, let’s get you on that plane.”
An hour and a half later, I’m sitting on Wren’s private jet back to San Diego. I can feel Jake’s eyes on me; I turn to meet his gaze and offer him a weak smile. It’s the best I can do at the moment.
Hannah’s waiting for us at the private airfield to take us back to mine, and I just know Bella is waiting for me in the back of that car. I think this is probably the most animated I’ve been in a long time.
As soon as I’m settled in the car, Bella is all over me, jumping up and down, licking my face.
I don’t even care if she hurts me, I just need cuddles from my fur baby.
Once Jake’s got our luggage and my wheelchair in the back, we set off for my sanctuary.
I almost urge Hannah to break the speed limit to get me home quicker.
The drive is fueled with questions from Hannah about how the funeral went, and I manage to answer without crying again.
She took care of Bella, so she was unable to come herself, something that made me more sad than I thought it would.
I guess I’ve been craving the motherly support she offers me so freely.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. Literally four weeks ago, everything was fine and I was happy. Or at least I think I was. I can’t remember the days leading up to the accident, but I know it was around my birthday, and my parents were here, so I had to have been happy. Right?
When we pull up at my beach house, I instantly relax, glad to be in my own space where I can shut out the rest of the world and grieve in peace.
Honestly, if I could use my leg right now, I would be running up those steps and flopping down face first onto my bed.
Instead, Jake has to carry me up the steps and into my waiting wheelchair. Back in my four-wheeled prison.
I need to retreat, to relieve this wonderful man from his duties.
“I think I’m going to head to bed, it’s been a long day.”
I look up at him, taking in his beautiful dark eyes and hair, and the way he looks at me like he loves me. I shake my head, ridding myself of that thought because I am clearly delusional. If we had been best friends since we were 10 and he liked me as more than a friend, he would have made a move.
“Sure, Lotts, let’s go,” he says as Hannah bends down to hug me goodbye. I thank her for looking after Bella for me, who dutifully trots alongside the wheelchair—also clearly ready for bed.
Once I’m tucked up under the covers, Jake whispers, “Goodnight, Lottie. I’ll be back in the morning, ok?”
He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering just a fraction too long before he closes the door and leaves.
I go to switch my lamp off and notice the dual photo frame on my bedside table.
Picking it up, I see one side has me and my parents in it, all together on my 21st birthday.
The other side is me and Jake. We’re in New York standing in front of the Statue of Liberty with both of our faces squeezed in the frame—we look like we’re freezing cold but having the time of our lives. I don’t remember this trip at all.
Bella nuzzles up under my chin as I hold the frame to my chest and let the tears fall again.