Page 63 of What are the Chances

I’m staring at my childhood tree, following the cracks in the bark. Charlotte was right. I had put the secrets before her. I didn’t choose her, and somehow, I realize, I’ve done it again. She’s gone because I chose my own selfish jealousies and anger toward a man who doesn’t even matter. I chose a fight with Kyle over her.

“You’re right, Kyle.”

“You’re damn straight I am.”

Breaking my eyes away from the tree, I find Kyle standing with his hands on his hips. He doesn’t even look concerned or worried. A look of satisfaction clouds his eyes.

“But you’re also wrong.” I swallow, watching his face contort into one of confusion. “You’re right, this is all my fault. It’s my fault she’s gone. But you’re wrong on one thing. She’s not alone, and she’s not wandering a place she doesn’t know.” As soon as the last word slips from my mouth, I turn and head toward the house. I need to find Charlotte. I need to go after her. A hand wraps around my arm, stopping me.

“Mason, wait.” Sam looks at me, his widened eyes filled with worry. “Let me go with you. We’ll search for her together.”

“It’s okay, Sam.” I pull my arm away, releasing myself from his grip. “I know where she is. I know how to find her.”

I run straight though the house, swiping my father’s keys from the end table on my way. When I start the car, I press on the gas as hard as I can, racing to Alma’s house. As the rolling hills and houses pass me by, I can’t help feeling this drive is taking longer than any other time I’ve made it.

By the time I pull in front of Alma’s house, I feel like I’ve been driving for an hour. Stepping out of the car, onto the soaking wet lawn, I’m terrified. What once was a sunny, clear day, as I sat beneath the tree in my mother’s garden with Charlotte’s hand resting on my chest, is now a dark, overcast one. I’m drenched in rain. Through wet eyelashes, I stare at Alma’s front door.

I’m terrified. I’m terrified I’ve taken Charlotte past the point of forgiveness, past the point of her willingness to work on this with me. She came to me this morning, willing to work on our relationship past this crazy ass trip we’ve been on. And now, with not even a whole day left before I have to go back to California, back to my life in L.A., I might lose her.

My heart races as I jog up the cobblestone path leading to Alma’s door. Water streams from the baskets of flowers hanging above her windows, the constant tapping ringing through my ears. Raising my fist, I pound on the door, the sound barely audible over the pouring rain. I’m amazed. It hasn’t rained this bad since I’ve been back. I find the irony of this moment to be ridiculous. Thunder rolls behind me, the vibrations shooting straight though me to my pounding heart. I bang on the door again.

My fist is still pounding on the door when it suddenly swings open.

“Mason?”

“Alma, hi. Is, um, is Char—”

I’m interrupted when Charlotte appears from behind Alma. Her eyes are soft and bloodshot from crying.

“It’s okay Alma, I can talk to him.” Alma moves, and Charlotte emerges, wrapped in an oversized sweater.

“Are you okay?” I rasp, praying she’ll let me tug her into my arms. I’m nervous and cautious though, so I wait.

“Mason, this isn’t easy for me,” she mutters, just loud enough to hear over the rain. I can’t figure out why she isn’t leading me into the house, near the fire. Why she isn’t taking me to her room. Then it hits me—she’s ending us.

“No,” I say on a breath. “Please, just hear me out.”

She crosses her arms and blinks against the harsh rain, shaking her head.

“Mason, it’s nothing that you did… I’m not mad you fought. I’m not mad at you at all. I just… realized something today.”

Her words make my stomach churn.

“What was that?” I ask, praying it’s something good. Something that ends in us kissing.

“I realized I have never chosen myself first. I have never put my feelings, my wants, my needs before anyone else’s. I don’t have a career I love. I don’t have friends or hobbies… fuck, I don’t even know what kind of ice cream I like.” She looks down and adjusts her feet. Her lips are chattering a bit, and it’s taking everything in me not to pull her toward me.

“So, let’s figure that out together,” I offer and step forward.

“I can’t hold things like you choosing to fight Kyle against you.” She shakes her head, “It’s not fair Mason. I love you, but I don’t love me. Not yet.”

“Ilove you.” I step forward and crowd her against the door. “I will show you how to love yourself. Be mad at me, I can take it. Hit me, kick me, whatever you have to do, just do it, then let’s be done. You belong with me Charlotte,” I mutter, bringing my hands to cup her face. Because of the rain, I can’t tell if she’s crying, but it feels like she is, which guts me open.

“Mason, please. This is already so hard for me. I can’t do this right now.”

“Okay.” I caress her ears and tit her face up. “I can come back tomorrow. I’ll drive us to the airport. We can talk then.” I’m about to kiss her when she places her delicate hand on my chest… stopping me.

“No. I can’t do us right now. I’m flying back to L.A. as a single woman, Mason. I’m staying that way until I can figure out what it is I need in my life, for me. I need to choose me for once.” She barely gets through each word, choking back a small sob, and once she’s finished, she brings her hands up to cover her eyes.

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