Chapter 21 Austin #2
“I know this morning probably felt boring, and I’m sorry for saying yes to Dirks. I thought I’d make it up to you by doing something you enjoy later.”
I stopped and turned to face her. We were on a quiet side street, surrounded by grand houses and shaded by towering oak trees, making it feel like we were in our own little world.
“Hey, don’t say that.”
“Say what?” Charlie asked as I took the bag she insisted on carrying from her hand.
“I don’t think this was boring at all,” I said, holding her gaze.
“This . . . this is exactly what I’ve always craved and wished for, even if I didn’t always know it.
There was a time when all I wanted was to get high—it was the only way I could escape everything around me.
Back then, I would have thought this was boring and mundane, but life, therapy, and growing up have taught me that there’s so much beauty in the small things. ”
I paused, searching her eyes to make sure she understood. “I’m trying, Charlie. I really am. I still have so much work to do to prove to myself—and maybe everyone else—that I’m not the villain of my own story. I’m not the same person I was back then, but I am trying.”
Charlie’s expression softened, and she reached out, brushing her fingertips across my cheek. “You don’t have to convince me,” she said, her voice gentle. “I see it, Austin. I see how hard you’re trying to better yourself.”
There was more to me than my past, and in front of me was someone willing to believe in that—even when I struggled to believe it myself.
“Tell me what you loved about your ex.”
I blinked a few times, and she gestured for us to keep walking.
“Why?”
“Because if I’m married to you and if we go out and share this to the world to make it believable, then I want to know about her. Anyone who Googles you will see you were married, and I’m sure my brother’s going to snoop into your background the moment I break the news to him.”
“What do you want to know?”
Thinking about Nova reminded me of how deeply I’d failed myself and how badly I’d let down someone I’d cared about. There had been so many open doors, so many chances to turn things around, and I had shut every single one.
“I know you got divorced because of your addiction, but what was the last straw?”
I sighed, closing my eyes as I walked beside Charlie in silence, searching for the words.
“It was my fault. Nova’s mom was sick, and when she passed, I was on a bender. I didn’t show up for her, not even when her mom was in the hospital. I wasn’t there when she needed me most.”
“Oh, Austin,” Charlie said softly, her voice filled with compassion.
“I know.” Tears clouded my vision, but I just kept walking, focusing on my feet and keeping up with Charlie, letting her anchor me. “I was high and thought her funeral was the next day. I never looked at my phone. She came after the funeral and caught me doing coke off a girl’s . . . chest.”
I didn’t dare look at Charlie in the face, ashamed of my actions. “I threw a bottle at her, thinking there was an intruder at the door, but glass broke all around her.”
“Y-you hit her?”
“No. I never hit her intentionally. I was scared someone was robbing me. I was paranoid as fuck. It doesn’t make it right, but when I saw it was Nova, I ran over to her, and she left me that day.
” I sighed. “The next day, movers came, I held a press conference that night, and then I headed to Malibu. I spent about a year in an inpatient facility before transitioning to a sober living community.”
“And you never heard from her?”
“Nope. I gave her a significant portion of my salary in the divorce, which is why I can’t afford my medication out of pocket now.”
“She was fighting you for it?”
I glanced at Charlie and saw curiosity in her eyes, but no judgment. “No. I gave it to her willingly. I asked Ledger to handle it, since I hadn’t been in contact with her.”
Charlie nodded, and we continued walking in silence.
When we reached the house, I moved to unlock the door, but Charlie asked, “Are you still in love with her?”
Which made me pull up short.
“No,” I answered without hesitation. “I’m not in love with her.
She’s engaged now and seems happy. I won’t deny that I once was, because I think I was.
” I paused, searching for the right words.
“I promised her the world once, but how can you promise someone something that you barely understand? At that time, I was a broken boy trying to convince myself I could be whole by making someone else happy.”
There was a long pause. Charlie searched my eyes, but I couldn’t quite meet her gaze.
A low chuckle slipped out of me as I thought about the question that haunted me more than I’d ever admit.
“I think about this a lot, actually. I wondered if I’d ever be able to fall in love again.
I think we carry pieces of all our past loves; each one teaches us something, changes us in some way.
It wasn’t bad timing. I would never have gotten better if I hadn’t realized how horrible I had become.
And I don’t know if she’d have ever left me if it hadn’t been for how much of an asshole I was. ”
I finally looked up, meeting Charlie’s eyes. “It would’ve been toxic—just two people holding onto something that was crumbling. That was years ago. It’s a chapter that I’ll always carry, but it’s no longer my story.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love,” she whispered. “And I don’t think I ever will be.”
Before I could say anything, she moved past me and into the house. I trailed her to the kitchen, where she unpacked groceries, pulling out the fruits with casual disinterest.
“Why would you say that?”
She let out a sigh, eyes trained on the countertop.
“Because it’s true, Austin. I’m never good enough for someone.
Not fully.” She finally turned to look at me.
“Look at me. I’m your second wife, and we didn’t even marry for love.
How could I not feel like second best? Like a placeholder?
” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.
“I could never be someone’s first choice, their everything. ”
A pang of guilt and empathy twisted in my chest. I reached out, but she took a step backward, pressing her palms against the edge of the counter as if to hold herself up.
I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that the way she saw herself was skewed by years of hurt and disappointment.
I knew words weren’t enough to erase the scars carved deep inside her.
“Charlie,” I whispered, trying to bridge the space between us with just her name.
She shook her head, forcing a tight smile.
“It’s okay, Austin. I’ve learned to live with it.
You don’t have to fix me.” She chuckled, but it was dry and lifeless.
She turned to open the fridge and put the food inside.
“That’s why I was okay with this marriage.
Because I knew I would be second. I knew we could help each other out and maybe I’d give it a go so that I could know how to live with a guy and whatnot later on .
. .” She looked over at the large clock over the dining room table across from us.
“You should get your stuff together. I think we’re going to head out soon. ”
“Charlie.” I took a hesitant step toward her. “We should talk about this.”
“No. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“You’re not second to me.”
“I am. I’m your second marriage.”
The truth of that statement hung heavy between us, undeniable.
She couldn’t see the deeper reality. “Yes, on paper, you are my second marriage. But, Charlie, you’re the first person who looked at me, truly saw me, and didn’t turn away.
You didn’t whisper behind my back or tell me I’d made a huge mistake.
You’re the first person who stood by me and said you’d help. ”
I took another step closer, and her wide, golden eyes locked with mine.
We were a hair’s breadth away from each other.
I wanted desperately to close the distance and kiss her—it felt like the only natural thing to do.
Just as I leaned in, she stepped back, turning her attention back to the fridge and placing the rest of the food inside, pointedly avoiding my gaze.
“I’m not done with this, Charlie, but I am going to respect that you don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Charlie turned toward me, pulling her hair out of the ponytail and letting it fall in waves down her back. Despite the carefully constructed wall she built around herself, there was still an undeniable warmth that radiated from her.
“Thank you,” she murmured as I nodded and headed upstairs to grab my hockey gear.
I paused once I reached the landing and listened to see if I heard anything downstairs.
Nothing but silence filled the hallway. I would find a way, no matter how hard I had to try, to make her feel cherished, to make her know she was never a second choice.
I understood that ache too well—the hollow, relentless feeling of not being enough. Charlie deserved none of that.