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“Don’t make the same mistake you did before.” Her gaze was firm but warm. “If you two spoke to each other instead of thinking you know best, you might fare a little better.”
I swallowed, then bobbed my head the tiniest bit.
“Let me know if you run out of cottage pie.”
I smiled at her parting words, and the door clicked shut behind her.
I adjusted my position in the bed and picked up the note she’d left on the little table. A part of me suspected it was all a scheme on Gwen’s part to make us talk, but Noah had been the first person there.
He was the one who’d pulled me from the car. He was the one who’d comforted me, who’d held me tight, who’d reassured me that it was over and that I was safe.
That part of the ordeal was a blur to me, but him, I remembered. I remembered the warmth of his arms around me and how good it felt when he pressed his lips to my forehead. I remembered looking into his eyes the whole time and seeing his fear and worry through my own, and as I closed my eyes now, it all rushed back into me.
“Bloody hell, Gwen,” I muttered, reaching for my phone.
ME: Your gran gave me your number. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay.
I tapped his number in on the bar and sent the message. I didn’t know if I wanted to save it. I didn’t know if I should save it.
Gwen was right. We did need to talk. All our issues stemmed from the fact we hadn’t done that, and it was understandable back then. We were only eighteen—we didn’t know how to communicate properly, and if we’d just spoken to one another instead of keeping everything inside, things would have ended differently.
We didn’t have age as an excuse this time. Immaturity wasn’t something we could use to explain our behaviour. We were adults, and that meant we had to act like it.
If that meant a difficult conversation, then so be it.
My screen lit up with a new message, and I picked up my phone again.
NOAH: Charlotte???
ME: Apparently, you’re eating all her food, and she’d like you to stop.
NOAH: For God’s sake.
NOAH: I’m not eating it all.
NOAH: She’s the one who cooked five cottage pies to make sure you had the best one.
My lips curled up. That was the most Gwen thing ever.
ME: What were you doing? Taste testing?
NOAH: I wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Have you tasted it? She makes the best cottage pie.
ME: I can’t disagree. She practically shoved it down my throat while ranting about you driving up her grocery bill.
NOAH: Are you sure you’re all right? The hospital won’t let me in.
ME: I know. I asked them not to. I don’t think it’s a good idea to see you right now. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were so worried.
NOAH: Don’t apologise. I understand.
ME: You do?
NOAH: I don’t like it, but I understand.
I smiled again. Goddamn it.
ME: I need some time, that’s all. Although we do need to talk soon.
