Page 95 of The Charm of You

“Nothing to be sorry about. We all do what we have to do,” I state simply. What else is there to say?

She peppers kisses along my unkempt jaw, showering me with affection that I feel deep in my chest. This is new to me too. I’ve never been the center of someone’s unwavering attention like this, and it’s… nice.

It’s real fucking nice to be comforted like this—by her.

“You, Austin Kyle, are not merely a cactus,” she says into my mouth. “You’re so much more.”

Weaving my hands into her hair, I slip my tongue into her mouth and savor her taste.

I bask in the warmth she offers and let myself feel it all, even though it’s temporary.

As I sink into her, she tears away, and I blink, practically detached from my body. “What is it?” I whisper with enough emotion clogging my throat to fill the back of my truck.

It all makes sense when she presses her forehead to mine again and breathlessly asks, “Who’s been there for you all these years?”

But I don’t say anything.

Because I don’t have an answer. Not one that would appease her almost tangible concern and agony.

So, I just kiss her.

chapter

thirty

CAROLINE

I return to the house with the vibrations of Austin’s kisses on my lips, my mind racing with the confessions he shared with such vulnerability. It shocked me. He reached so far into the recesses of his mind and soul, and I was lucky enough to be the one he opened up to.

It was harrowing and breathtaking.

Each excruciating detail pierced my freaking heart with a magnitude of sadness I hadn’t felt in a long time. The last time I was overcome with darkness like that was when I’d heard of Daddy’s fatal accident.

When I asked Austin who’s been there for him all these years, I’d hoped he’d give me a clear answer. Something to ease the pain of my breaking heart.

But I’d known the answer before I asked the question.

No one.

I just wish I’d been wrong.

Tonight got me thinking about Mama.

Austin has always stayed by his mother’s side. He’s sacrificed a lot for her, and it’s admirable. Some might claim it’s a fault. He’s always put her first, even though he also lost so much when his father passed.

I know the crushing weight of such a figure suddenly missing from my life. I know the heartbreak and fear, and I’ve held my mother responsible for this belief I’ve carried around for years like excess baggage—the belief that I’ve needed to bottle all of my emotions inside.

I never stopped to think that I haven’t let her lean on me, either. When she didn’t unleash her grief in the open, I thought it meant she was okay. I mistook it for unyielding strength, and I dedicated myself to being strong too.

But I abandoned her. I allowed the overwhelming urge of self-preservation fuel my actions, and I moved halfway across the country—away from her.

I’ve always been close with Mama. Even before Daddy passed, she and I were like best friends. We often shopped together, went to the movies, and dished about my teenage drama.

She helped me be a good cheerleader. It’s thanks to her that I won pageant after pageant. Mama taught me how to do my makeup and how to fix my hair. She led by example in every aspect of my maturity, and I followed.

After Daddy was gone, and it was just the two of us, we grew closer, but since then, a confusing distance has separated us too. I’ve never faced it head-on, but it’s been staring right at me ever since I arrived.

She never wants to talk about Daddy, and it’s left a painful, terrifying void in my life. What’s worse is that she inadvertently pushes me to sweep all these feelings under the rug, but it’s been over ten years of that.

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