There’s a pause. Then, lower.
“I love you, Charlotte. Being with you…” A breath, then unsteadily, “It was the best time of my life.”
And like the cold-hearted monster he is, the line clicks.
No goodbye.
Chapter 40
Charlotte
Six months.
That’s how long it’s been since the phone call from hell — the one that shattered my heart and ripped Grayson out of my life.
He’s in prison. I can’t call. Can’t write. Can’t visit. Brax made it clear: if I reach out, there will be consequences behind bars. Apparently, my brother runs a full-blown trafficking ring from a dang cell, and I had no clue he was moving drugs through my own house.
I’m such a fool. Dumb Charlotte.
And God, do I miss Grayson calling me that. I miss his voice. His arms. His rage. I’d let him do whatever he wanted — slap, choke, use — if it meant being close to him again. That’s how deeply I miss him.
At least Atticus is home finally. He gives me purpose. He likes Wilbur, too, who isnota potbelly pig. He’s 280 pounds of sunbathing, bush-eating chaos who now lives outside andhogs the yard like he owns it. But when I am not taking care of Atticus, I make time to put sunscreen on my portly friend. He loves me, too.
Just for a moment, life feels manageable.
Knock, knock!
My neck snaps to the front door, yanking me from my thoughts. Through the peephole...
I gasp.
Meghan.
Standing on my porch in barely there shorts and a black strappy top, showing off her ink-covered arms like a trophy. Her sleek bob looks freshly cut, her pale skin flawless, and her red lipstick is like blood smeared on porcelain.
She’s beautiful... unnervingly so. But her energy? Rotten.
I open the door a crack, my hand still clenching the knob. “Uh. Hello?”
She gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Hi, Charlotte.”
Even her tone crawls under my skin.
“I need to talk to you.”
She shifts like she’s going to step inside, but I brace the door, blocking her. She doesn’t flinch. Just narrows her eyes and corrects herself.
“Let me rephrase. We’re going to talk.”
And then—
Bam!
A man barrels out, having hid off to the side, and rams the door open. I’m thrown back. Slammed onto the carpet, my breath knocked out of me. My head throbs.
When I look up —
Him.
