Chapter 21 Austin
austin
I shouldn’t have let it go that far, even after I said I wouldn’t.
I crossed a line with her, and I knew it.
Last night, I couldn’t get her out of my mind—the feel of her body, the taste of her lips, the way she looked in her wedding dress.
I wanted to do this the way we’d agreed upon, to hold back, which was why I’d gone for a run.
It didn’t matter that it was the dead of night; I thought fresh air might clear my head.
And it did—to a point. But then I saw her in the kitchen, and all control went out the window.
I needed her as much as I needed air, but I also needed this marriage to work.
This morning, I decided it was better to keep things simple, to be her friend, her roommate, because that’s all I was really capable of.
I wasn’t good at relationships, at holding onto things.
I glanced down at my coffee, realizing my hands were trembling. With a sigh, I turned, grabbed the medicine I’d stored in the cabinet above her fridge, and popped a pill.
“This is what I’m worth,” I muttered, swallowing it dry.
“Are you feeling sick?” a soft voice asked from across the room.
I turned, finding Charlie standing in the doorway wearing jeans and a cropped white top. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, with a few loose strands framing her face.
“What?” I stammered, holding up the bottle. “No. It’s just . . .” I glanced at the label, chuckling dryly. “This is the reason we’re married.”
Charlie stepped closer, her eyes flickering over the bottle in my hand.
“It helps with the physical symptoms,” I explained, “the shakes . . .” I lifted my hand to show her the tremors. “And it quiets the cravings. I also take an antidepressant, but usually at night.”
“Oh,” she said flatly, turning away. “Cool.”
She grabbed her purse from the counter, then pointed to a jar nearby. “I baked some cookies from last night’s dough. They turned out pretty well.”
I glanced in the direction she’d pointed, and by the time I looked, she was already by the door.
“Charlie,” I called out.
She stopped, hesitated, and then turned around. “Yeah?”
“I think we should—”
She held up a hand. “No. We don’t need to.”
I nodded and gave her a sympathetic smile, but the mood felt heavy today. It was awkward . . .
“Stop,” she laughed. “We’re both adults. I can practically see your mind reeling.”
She walked toward me, and when she was close, she lifted her hand and rested it on my arm. “Are you feeling okay?”
I swallowed hard, feeling as if the ground beneath me might open up and swallow me whole.
Five years ago, I could have counted on one hand the people who bothered to ask if I was okay.
And back then, I would have lied—wouldn’t have cared if I was okay, because the only thing that mattered was chasing a high I could never reach.
The truth was complicated. No, I wasn’t okay.
I was living a life that felt borrowed, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
It felt like reading a story where the villain somehow ended up with the girl—the person he didn’t deserve, the one who saw light in him that he’d never found in himself.
The villain never really changed; he just kept dragging his past with him, too scarred and broken to see himself as worthy of redemption.
I didn’t deserve this chance at a life that felt real and whole. Maybe that was part of the journey—to face the darkness and fight, to want redemption enough to carve it out of the ashes of my past. To learn that even villains, if they’re willing to change, can be worth saving.
“I wanted to make sure we were okay,” I said, the half-truth spilling out easily.
Charlie narrowed her eyes at me. “Thank you for checking on me.” She looked down, but kept her arm on mine. “I was . . . It’ll be okay.”
“It’ll be okay,” I repeated. Because it might not be okay in the moment, but it would be in the future.
“We just need to focus on our friendship. You were right and last night . . . I think it shouldn’t happen again.”
I furrowed my brows. “You didn’t like it? Did I do something wrong?”
She traced gentle circles on my shoulder as she shook her head, letting out a soft giggle. “No. I . . . I loved it, but I didn’t love being alone . . . afterward.”
A thousand words ran through my mind—stay with me, or I’m scared of what will happen. But my past, my trauma, screamed at me to leave. Staying would mean I hadn’t changed, that I was still the person I used to be, still an addict using her for my own needs.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. That was fucked up of me. I don’t know why I did that. I think I freaked out that we’d crossed this boundary and—”
“I think I freaked out too, but when I get scared, I run to get comfort . . .”
“And when I get scared, I run away from it.” I sighed.
“We just have to work on communicating better then, I guess.”
I grabbed her hand and felt her fingers flex beneath mine. “Where are you headed?”
“It’s Sunday.” She took a step away from me like that was somehow the answer to the question I’d asked.
“Yes. It is Sunday.”
A smile spread across her cheeks. “I always go to the farmers’ market on Sunday.”
“You do?”
“Always.” She looked at her tote and then back up to me. “Wanna come?”
“Yeah. I’d love to.”
Red flushed her cheeks. “Alright then. Let’s go to the farmers’ market.”
“There is no fucking way.” I grabbed an eggplant from one of the stands. “This shit is so phallic.”
“Austin.” Charlie playfully slapped me and turned to the guy who was manning the counter. “So sorry. He’s got his mind in the gutter.”
The guy laughed. “I love a young couple in love.”
Charlie looked at me, and I grabbed her hand. “We’re newlyweds.”
“Ah, that explains it. When I got married to my wife, we were inseparable.”
I looked down at Charlie, her amber eyes glowing in the early morning sun. “Yeah,” I said, letting out a small sigh. “I think she’s pretty special.”
Charlie shook her head like I’d told a joke, but what she didn’t know was that I meant every word I’d said. She was special. She was solid. She was safe in so many ways that I needed.
I was broken—so broken that she’d walk away from me like everyone in my life had, but this time I knew it would come. I would be prepared for it.
“Come on, husband.” She emphasized the last word loudly so the man could hear. Grabbing her fruit from the table, she kept her other hand linked with mine.
“You’re going to get it.” I laughed.
“Oh, look, it’s the newlyweds.”
My eyes shot up at the familiar voice, and there was Dirks in the flesh with a basket of sunflowers in his hand. I quickly peeled my fingers away from Charlie’s, not wanting him to go back to Ledger that we were caught holding hands.
“Hey, Dirks,” Charlie said with a smile as she leaned in to give him a hug. “What’re you doing here? Buying flowers for a special someone?”
Dirks shook his head. “No. I like having flowers at my place. It brightens everything up.”
“You’re not at practice?”
He shook his head. “Surprisingly. We had our game Friday, but then Coach needed today as a day off. Most of the guys are meeting at the rink for a pickup game.”
Dirks looked between Charlie and me. “Are you busy?”
“Me?” I pointed to myself, then looked down at Charlie. “We just got here, so I’ll be here—”
“No, he’s not, and neither am I.”
I turned toward Charlie and raised a brow.
She shrugged. “Dirks is about to invite you to play, and selfishly, I wanna see what a superstar my husband is.”
Dirks burst out laughing, nearly dropping his bags. “This. This is gold.”
Charlie turned back to Dirks. “We’ll be there. What time are you meeting?”
“Three.”
I checked my phone and realized I had plenty of time to get ready—no excuse to say no.
“Ugh,” I sighed. “Fine. I’ll see you at three.”
Dirks clapped me on the back as Charlie got distracted by another phallic-looking vegetable in the stand next to us. She excused herself, so it was Dirks and me.
“You hooked up with her, didn’t you?”
“Not in the way you think,” I said, not wanting to lie.
Dirks groaned, “Dude.”
“It was a one-time thing.” I held up my hands like I’d been caught. “I swear.”
Dirks shook his head. “Don’t let your feelings get involved.
It’ll be hard to navigate out once you have your insurance shit figured out.
Speaking of, did you hear they’re hiring at the stadium to bring a hockey influencer in for broadcasting?
You’d get to be on air, giving your opinion, sharing stats, and then participate on the ice during the summer, doing community stuff for kids. ”
“My public persona is trash.” My ex-wife had been involved in the newsroom. It was the last place I wanted to be . . . because I didn’t think I was strong enough to handle the pressures. “I’m good.”
“It would be a full-time gig, which means you’d have your insurance, and then you could get a divorce quicker than you thought.”
I don’t want to get divorced.
Not yet. It was too soon, and I wasn’t ready to pull that from under us at the moment. “I’ll look into it. Honestly, with the way the media hated me, not sure if they’d consider me for that position.”
Dirks shrugged. “Heard there’s also an assistant coaching gig.”
I laughed. “No. I never played long enough for that.” I looked at Dirks, whose face fell. “Thanks though. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
That was earnest. I genuinely was grateful Dirks was still looking out for me, and that I had a friend after all this.
“No problem.” He turned to go and called over his shoulder, “See you later. Can’t wait to kick your ass.”
I chuckled and walked over to where Charlie was holding up a carrot.
“Don’t you dare.” She preemptively scolded me, and I laughed again as she guided me through a few different stalls before we turned to walk toward the house.
My entire life, I’d wanted something like this. I wanted to feel normal and safe and . . .