Page 11

Charlie surprised me, pulling me into a hug—a gesture I never would have expected from him. I went rigid in his arms, not used to physical affection from him. When I met him, he was a stone wall.

“We’re here for you.”

I pulled back slightly, blinking in disbelief. “You’re hugging me.”

“You looked like you needed one. So shut up and accept the offering.”

His words shattered the fragile hold I had left, and the waterworks came rushing back. I buried my face into his shirt, the tears pouring out uncontrollably as I sobbed, clinging to him for some kind of comfort.

“Blythe!” Charlie called down the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Help!” Charlie capitulated.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rose is getting snot all over my shirt.”

I heard Blythe set whatever she had in her hands down and hurry up the stairs. By the time she reached us, she was breathless, but the concern in her eyes was clear.

I pulled my head from Charlie’s chest and turned to face her.

“Oh, sweetie,” Blythe whispered, pulling me into her arms. “Do you want to go outside?”

I nodded, the sadness too heavy to put into words.

Blythe poked Charlie’s chest. “You’re in charge of making sure the pasta sauce doesn’t burn. Don’t get distracted like you did last time.”

She turned towards me and rolled her eyes, “Last time I asked him to do that, he nearly burnt the kitchen down.”

We made our way down the stairs to the covered front porch. The rain had started to let up to a pour, so we were thankful for the roof. Blythe sat down on the rocking chair closest to the door, and I took the one next to her.

“How are you feeling?” I collected myself enough to ask.

“No, ma’am. We’re not talking about me right now. Stop deflecting.”

I sat there in silence, my mind racing, unsure how to even begin explaining why Thad wasn’t here. My anxiety started to claw at me, and I found myself nervously picking at the cuticle on my left thumb.

It was as if Blythe could sense my struggle, because, without missing a beat, she broke the stillness.

“We don’t need to talk. You just needed some fresh air.”

“I don’t even understand what happened.” My eyes fell to my hands in my lap. “Where I went wrong…”

I struggled to find the right words. No words to describe the heartbreak. No words to capture the gut-wrenching feeling of being told the person you love doesn’t love you back. No words for the sheer agony of continuing with my move, pretending like my entire world hadn’t just imploded twelve hours ago.

Blythe shifted beside me. “Is there anything you want to do tomorrow? It’s supposed to be nice out.”

“No,” I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. Then, finally, I let the words fall out. “Thad’s not coming… at all.”

She nodded slowly, “Okay.”

I could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to piece together what had happened. But true to who she was, she didn’t push. She just sat there, offering quiet support, and I appreciated that more than I could put into words.

A sob slipped out.

Blythe let out a sharp breath. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. Anyone close to me would say I’m not a crier. I get angry. I shut down. But I rarely, rarely, cry.