Hell on Heels(59)

My throat started to burn.

“It’s been a long time since we talked, just you and me.” His shoulders shook a little. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to say goodbye.”

I hiccupped.

“I should have been here for her that day. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

My chest broke open, some of the pressure escaping.

“I just wanted to say I’ve missed you too, Henry.”

A sob tore through him, and my knees threatened to buckle.

“I know you’re looking after our girl from up there, but just in case you were wondering, I’m keeping that promise I made you.” He choked. “Ten years too late, but I’m here now.”

I gripped the back of the bench as I watched him fall apart.

“She will… she will feel loved… H-Henry…” He cried, “I promise.”

Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled towards him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

We sunk into the grass and held each other as we cried.

I lost a brother.

He lost a friend.

We both had lost each other.

He unwound himself from me, cupping my wet face in his hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Charlie.”

I placed my hands on his face in the same fashion he’d done to me, resting my forehead on his. “I forgive you, Dean.”

He leaned forward, pressing our lips together.

I tasted his tears and he tasted mine as we kissed.

Our lips held so many memories, so much heartache.

He needed me in a way that broke his own heart.

He loved me in a way that put it back together again.

He taught me that you didn’t need to be whole to forgive.

You just needed to be brave.

He trusted me to forgive him, and in my own time, I’d found the courage to do just that.

We lay in the grass under Henry’s tree for hours.

Old memories found their way back into the cherished parts of my heart.

Forgiveness was a powerful thing.

And on that day, under that tree, lying next to my first love, I forgave myself too.





May



“What are you working on?”

I looked up from my notebook. “Just a letter.”

His beautiful face pinched together in a frown.

He stood from the wooden Adirondack chair next to mine and kneeled down in front of me.

“It feels like you’ve been distant.” He put both his hands on my thighs.

I had been.

Today was Henry’s birthday.

Putting my pen down on my notebook, I ran a hand through his brilliant blond hair. “I’m sorry.”

He ran one hand up my thigh and settled it on my hip. “You never have to apologize to me, Charleston.”

I heard the waves crash along the shoreline and I smiled.

That was this man, so perfect.

We’d driven to Oregon for the weekend. Beau had rented us a small cottage on Cannon Beach.

“I just wish you’d talk to me.” He sighed. “Let me in.

I’d spent a decade keeping people, mostly men, at arm’s length, keeping genuine connection at bay. To be capable of that, you learned how to shut people out, you learned how not to ask for help.

“Do you want to feel me?” I asked, leaning forward to brush my lips over his.

It was a beautiful day in May. The sun was shining and you could feel the first bit of heat behind its rays.

“Always.” Beau kissed my lips.

My jaw.

My collarbone.

The inside of my left wrist, and the bare knee exposed by my sundress.

“Really?” I cupped his cheek with one of my hands and he leaned into my affection. “Be sure, Beau,” I whispered. “Because the entirety of my mind, it could suffocate you.”

“I’m sure, Charleston.”

I took my notepad, rested it on the wide arm of the chair, and motioned towards the beach. “Let’s take a walk then?”

He stood and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

I smiled.

He knew I loved that.

Taking his hand, I let him lead us onto the beach, feeling our toes in the sand.

I watched him as we walked.

He was so beautiful.

Today, he was wearing white shorts with a buttoned down pink dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and a pair of black Ray-Bans.

“It’s Henry’s birthday today,” I told him, feeling the sun on my face. “He would have been thirty-four today.”

Beau squeezed my hand. “I bet you miss him.”

“I do.” I smiled as we passed children making castles in the wet sand.

Our hands swung in that natural way that people in sync with each other did.

I liked that, too.

“He sounded like a wonderful person.” Beau’s smooth voice took over the air.

“It’s my birthday, Charlie bear. You have to play with me.”

“I’ll get my dress dirty, Henry,” I whined.

He laughed. “You’re such girl, Charlie bear.”

“He was the best,” I whispered, as we bumped shoulders.

It felt nice to talk about Henry this way.

We had so many happy moments that became overshadowed with our loss.