Where One Goes(74)

In this fantasy, I kiss her temple, closing my eyes and praying she will have this one day. And I pray it’s with George. She loves him just as she loves me; fiercely. She’s crying quietly, tears softly seeping down her beautiful face. Leaning toward her, I say, “When you miss me, come here and talk to me. This will always be our place.”

“Will you be here?” she weeps.

“A part of me will always live here . . .” Looking back at the tree behind us, I sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t carve that I & C in the tree for you.”

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, Ike,” she whimpers as she attempts to stifle a soft cry. The moment feels tragically painful, reaching in the deepest part of my soul. And although I hate to leave her, I need a few minutes to sort myself out before I unravel.

“Charlotte,” I say, and squeeze her hand tightly. “I need a bit of time alone. I’m sorry, I just . . . Will you be okay here?”

“Sure,” she says, quietly. “I’ll go back to the motel. You will come back and see me, won’t you?” Her gray eyes linger on mine, hope and sadness etched across her face.

Brushing my knuckles against her cheek, I reply, “I promise, baby girl.” Then I morph away.





When I open my eyes, Ike is gone, so I remain still, lying on the blanket and staring at the sky. Everything we just imagined together felt so real; so content. But real or not, he’s leaving soon. There are no words to describe the pain I feel inside right now. The ache is endless, reaching from my toes to the tips of my hair. It is a relentless, gaping hole of torture. When he goes, he will take a part of me with him; a part that can never be replaced because it is his—he owns it. He was the first person in a long time that offered me comfort and friendship. And I realize the agonizing pain of letting him go is exactly how George has felt for a long time.

The other half of my heart belongs to George. And that pain is altogether different. Against my initial better judgment, I fell for him. And boy, did I fall hard. George could own his part of me, take it and love it, treasure it even, but he’s choosing not to. And in that, I feel hopeless and lost. How do I move on without a complete heart? How do I navigate through life with nothing but an empty chest of what-ifs? It bothers me to go back into that dark place, but the pain is becoming too much to bear. I had a plan. To end it, and as sad as it may sound, a part of me believes that would’ve been better than this. Losing the McDermott brothers will be my undoing. Ike saved me, but what for? To go back to the life I’ve lived for the last five years, but this time carrying the pain of having loved and lost? I have no idea if George will ever speak to me again, and I don’t want to say good-bye to my best friend. I did it once with Axel, and I almost didn’t survive. How can I possibly do it again? Am I really destined to be all alone?

I shake my head at my darker thoughts. I could never regret it; not one moment of it. Meeting and loving each of them has been my life’s greatest accomplishment. I didn’t know what life was until death came to my door. And I had no clue what love was until Ike forced me to live. He gave me a second chance at life when he brought me to this town and showed me the beauty of it. ‘Where one goes to rejuvenate,’ he had joked. I lived in a consuming darkness—barely getting by—and he brought me to the light. And although the pain is unyielding, I won’t forget my brief time in the warmth, and I refuse to let it go.

I let out a snort when the magnitude of how f*cked up our situation is hits me. I just imagined a lifetime of love with Ike. We laughed and loved and fought, and it was beautiful. Our situation is so complex. I love them both, equally and for very different reasons. And while a tiny little voice inside of me whispers that it was wrong to share that with Ike—even though it was a dream—when my hopes are for George to come to his senses and make me his, I’ll never regret it. If George had been the soul that found me on the bridge that night instead if Ike, I would have imagined that beautiful life with him. But he didn’t. It was Ike that found me. And it is Ike who loves me enough to understand that he shares my heart with his brother.

Hopping up, I shake the blanket off and I make my way back to Sniper’s truck. Once inside, I pop open the large toolbox in the backseat and remove a large hunting knife.

Walking back down toward the shore and gripping the knife tightly, I decide there’s only one thing left to do where Ike is concerned; show him what he means to me.



By the time Ike appears back at the motel, I’ve already showered and put on my pajamas. I’m lying in bed when suddenly he’s there beside me. He rolls on his side so his eyes are level with mine. “Hey, beautiful,” he whispers.

“Hi,” I reply and muster up the best smile I can. “Did you go see George?”

“This morning before you woke up.”

“How is he?”


“He’s going to be okay. He said good-bye to me.”

My eyes widen. “So he believes you were there?”

“I think so,” he answers and nods. “I don’t feel that weight anymore.”

I want to cry—because I’m not at all ready for him to go—but I feel like that’s all I’ve done for days and days. “When, Ike? When will you go?”

Ike closes his eyes and swallows hard. He doesn’t have to say it; I know it will be soon. “We should say our good-byes now, Charlotte.”