Free Afterthoughts: A Charity McAdams Novella (The Charity McAdams Novellas) by Elizabeth Storme Page B

ever happened.”
    I don’t know what to say. Brandon’s eyes are dark and intense. I have to break away from his gaze because I can’t think straight with him looking at me like that. I look down at our intertwined hands and try to calm my racing mind.
    In the months, even years following his disappearing act, I would sometimes let my mind wander through different scenarios and what I would say to him, if I ever saw him again. Mostly they were a series of bitter diatribes that were meant to wound him and make him feel like pond scum for leaving me like that. I never imagined that he would apologize and be so self-aware of his own failures. I never prepared myself to have this conversation.
    However, the one nagging question that has always haunted me still remains unanswered. I look up at him again. “Why didn’t you come back for me? If you’ve felt this way the whole time, why not come here and tell me? You’ve had three years of stewing in this regret when you could have contacted me at any point along the way and tried to make things right.”
    Brandon shifts his gaze for a moment before answering. “I was ashamed. I was scared. I didn’t know how you would react. You have no idea how many times I sat down to write it all out in a letter or an email or I would go to call you but hang up before dialing the last number. Eventually, I just stopped and tried to bury it all. Lock it away in the back of my mind.”
    I nod, remembering the letters I had started but then throw away, the emails I never sent, or the hang-up calls I made. I remember being angry, scared, rejected, lonely, sad, and how I never found the right words to explain it all.
    “I’m so sorry, Cherry , more than you will ever know. I know I ruined everything. I wish I could take it all back.”
    The rest of the tears start to fall as Brandon scoops me out of my chair and into his lap. I lean against his shoulder with my arms around his neck and we both cry, seeming to let go of the past three years o f heartbreak and pain together.

Chapter Twelve
    It ’ s half past noon and Ashley is late. I’m sitting at our normal t able at our favorite lunch spot , waiting. I drum my fingernails along the table, me ntally rehearsing what I’ ll tell her about yesterday.
    I’m just about to text her and see what’s taking so long when she stumbles through the front door. She looks down at the carpet to see what she caught her foot on before spotting me. She rushes across the restaurant and collapses into the chair across from me.
    “Pulled an all-nighter?” I ask, glancing over her disheveled appearance.
    “Is it that obvious?” She asks, smoothing her hair and tugging at her jacket before realizing she has her buttons mismatched. She mutters under her breath as she unbuttons her coat to fix it. “I was up till four. But…I got everything done and shipped out this morning so it was worth it. Just exhausting.”
    “We’re getting too old for all-nighters. We don’t handle them as grac efully as we once did,” I joke.
    The high schooler working the counter comes over to get our order and then scurries away to the back, leaving us vir tually alone in the restaurant.
    “How was your night? Did you go out with James?” She asks.
    Oh boy…here we go.
    “Not exactly,” I start.
    “You w ere with Brandon, weren’t you?”
    My jaw drops in surprise. “What? How did you…?”
    “Charity, I’ve known you forever and one thing I know is that you’re a terrible liar! I always know when you’re up to something. Remember that surprise party you tried to throw for my seventeenth birthday? You kept it from me for what? A whole three days?”
    I smile at the memory. “What gave it away this time?”
    “The jacket. I knew it wasn’t yours.”
    I shoulda known. Leave it to Miss. Fashionista to spot something like that.
    “It could have been James’,” I offer, unconvincingly.
    “Was it?” She counters.
    “No,” I ad mit, looking down at the