Page 96 of Fractured Fate

“I still don’t like you hurt. I’m sorry I was rough.” His fingers traced her jaw, running down the side of her neck over the bruising. “I should have taken my time.”

Wait. He called worshiping her body and making her feel like the most cherished living being alive before he dickmatized her not taking his time? She wondered what taking his time looked like… No. Stop that.

She cleared her throat. “I should-I should go clean up. I have to meet my advisor today and tell her my decision. She has open office for consultations on Saturdays. It’s the best day to get in.”

Scurrying out of the room like he could see the doubts hanging over her like a black cloud, she locked herself in the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Last night made her feel things. Things she didn’t want to feel. It made the emotions she pushed down to avoid admitting the truth rise to the surface and threaten to drown her.

She wanted to be with Aiden.

Swiping the tear from her cheek, she stepped into the shower.

Wanting something and being good enough to have it were two very different things; it was a gap she couldn’t close.

The breeze made the sage green floral maxi dress flutter around her ankles and the wind chimes on the porch tinkle and sway.

It took a week to take care of everything in Athens, but it felt good to finally be back in Rosebrook Valley. Back home, where the smell of magnolias carried on the breeze and Spanish moss swayed from live oaks all around town. It settled something restless inside her that hadn’t relaxed in three months since she’d been away.

Aiden stood with her outside the small three-bedroom, two-bathroom house she called home sweet home her entire life.

Vertical white siding made up most of the exterior walls of her childhood home, with board and batten gray shutters. Brick and thick wooden columns accented the covered porch.

Simple shrubs and lilyturf that required little upkeep lined the front of the house. Her mothers weren’t home often enough to look after elaborate flowerbeds like other houses on the street, so this was their way of having something nice with minimal effort. The lilyturf plants added a pop of color amid a sea of green.

They walked up the paved walkway to her porch. Aiden carried a large box of her necessities, like her bathroom products and gaming consoles, while she rolled a suitcase full of clothes and carried a backpack with her books on her shoulder.

He set down the box, then returned to the car for more. She knocked on the glass of the exterior door. The inner wooden door stood wide open, offering her a dim glimpse into the home’s interior.

Moments later, her mom came into view. Her smile brightened, crow’s feet wrinkling the corners of her eyes when she opened the door. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she said, pulling Charlotte forward in a warm embrace, making her drop her backpack.

Her mom’s bangle bracelets clinked together as she pulled back and held Charlotte at arm’s length, looking her over. The way her mom’s lips pressed together in a disapproving way made Charlotte’s shoulders tense.

Her mom’s bronze skin looked radiant under the sunlight. She didn’t look a day over thirty, despite pushing fifty.

Dark eyes settled on Charlotte’s face, and a soft sigh escaped. “You’re not well.”

She never knew how her mothers did it, but they had an uncanny ability of knowing when she wasn’t at her best. Maybe it came from being together for years, or maybe it was a mother’s intuition—if that were possible without blood relations.

“Good to see you too, Mom.”

“I didn’t mean that as an insult, sweetheart. You don’t look sick or unsightly, just… a hunch. Come in, let’s talk.” She motioned with her hand to the open door, silver rings catching in the sunlight. “Hurry inside before Molly gets out.”

“Molly? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Charlotte turned as Aiden approached with another box. “Molly is Ma’s cat. The owner abandoned her at the clinic, and they fell in love with each other.”

Her mom’s warm laughter made her smile. “It was love at first sight, that’s for sure.” She looked at Aiden, a soft smile lighting up her face. “Little fire. It’s good to see you.”

Her mom once told them the name Aiden meant “little fire” and held roots in Irish mythology.

“Mrs. Walsh,” Aiden said with a confident smile.

It warmed something inside of Charlotte to see him so relaxed. When he first met her mom, Aiden acted cagey. Skittish. Nervous. When she asked him why, his anxiety grew until he finally admitted he felt like her mom could see through him.

She didn’t mock him or even say it wasn’t believable, because like earlier, her mom picked up on things others didn’t and had a knack for reading people.

“I’ve told you time and time again to call me Sara. It gets confusing when Liz is around and you’re calling us both Mrs. Walsh.”