Page 78 of Stick Break
“It was given to me by a very good friend,” she says, voice gentle now. “After I lost William all those years ago, I never thought I’d find happiness again. Never thought I’d hear music.” Charley goes still beside me, the way you do when you sense someone’s about to hand you a story they don’t share often.
“But Carl,” Betsy goes on, her eyes getting distant, “He brought the song back. He made me laugh again. We never got the chance to get married. Life had other plans. But the ring…” She trails off, staring at the little circle in her hand. “This ring reminded me I could still feel joy.”
And then she looks right at Charley.
“You brought music back to me too, Charley,” she says, her voice cracking. “Now you’re teaching Emma the joy of song. Soon she’ll be playing around the fire, singing like you do. You gave us that.”
Charley’s eyes are wide. She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Yes, but I can’t—” she tries.
“This would make him so happy,” Betsy says. “It would make me happy.”
She blinks hard, trying to chase away the tears, but they shimmer anyway.
Then she holds the ring out... to me.
Oh, boy.
Charley turns to me, her eyes damp, wide, unsure. I stare at the ring. It’s just a tiny loop of gold, but somehow it weighs a thousand pounds. The thought of disappointing Betsy—and Carl, God rest is soul—sits in my gut like a brick. So I take it. I reach for Charley’s hand, my fingers brushing hers. They’re trembling. Or maybe mine are.
“It’s just temporary,” I say, and try to read her face, to understand if she’s hearing what I’m saying, or what I’m not saying…or asking.
“Right,” she says softly, and her lashes fall like curtains over a storm of emotion. I slide the ring onto her finger. And my heart punches so hard against my ribs, I swear something cracks.
What the hell is happening?
Why does this feel so...right?
It’s a borrowed ring. A borrowed story. A borrowed identity.
A fairy tale that neither of us believed in.
But in this moment, it feels like the beginning of everything real.
20
Charley
As we follow the winding path into town, the faint sounds of music and laughter drift toward us from the festival ahead. It smells like kettle corn and everything fried. Emma slips her small hand into mine, her palm warm and trusting. I glance down at her, and there she is, beaming up at me with that wide, unguarded smile that could melt stone.
My chest tightens. Honestly, I thought life would look a lot different by now. I imagined a career I was proud of, a little house with a garden out front, maybe even a dog. A family. Laughter in the kitchen. Light in the windows. Instead, I’m somewhere in between what I had and what I lost, trying to pretend it doesn’t ache.
I take a moment, and look where I am now, look at who I’m with and that ache subsides. Maybe the universe had other plans. And maybe, just maybe, I’m not mad about it.
Beside me, Rip brushes his knuckles against mine. That subtle touch trickles through my body and eases the last of the aches.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low and unreadable.
I nod. “I’m good.” While I am good, better than good, I can’t deny that I’m terrified. Being with him feels too easy. Too right. And it makes me wonder if I could really go back to Boston with him, slip into his world like I belong there. What happens if I fall deeper?
Girl, you’ve already fallen.
But then there’s his ex. The way he still tries to fix things for her. To earn back her love with quiet sacrifices and false starts. He gives her everything she asks for. In return, he gets the scraps of affection he craves. It’s a vicious cycle, one I see him stuck in. I wish I could be the one to pull him out. Honestly, it really sucks that love makes fools of us all.
Emma wiggles between us and grabs Rip’s hand, her joy effortless and contagious. His eyes flicker down to her, and something in his expression shifts, like he’s seeing a future he once wanted, a future that slipped out of his hand.
“Swing me,” she squeals, her voice high and delighted.
Rip laughs and checks in with me. I give and nod and he says, “Okay, on the count of three.”
