Page 22 of And Forever (The Riders and Rings Duology #2)

From the moment the girls arrived at the truck after visiting Tim, there has been an undercurrent to our evening.

Making dinner, playing fairies, and bathtime with Winona didn’t diminish the unspoken questions in Charlotte’s eyes.

Her laughter and story time couldn’t hide the way her lips curled down in the corner, a frown of concern lingering through our last night in Idaho.

She pads softly on the plush area rug that occupies the majority of the room to climb up next to me on the simple, oak-frame king-sized bed.

Folding her legs into a crisscrossed position, she hands me the monitor.

I set it on my nightstand before turning to face her, determined to make it through this conversation with every truth I have left to share.

Charlotte is quiet, but I can feel her body practically vibrate with tension.

I slide a hand up her knee, resting it there lightly, grounding myself.

“I thought I could handle it,” I begin, drawing in a deep breath before letting it out and shrugging my shoulders. “And, honestly, I’m damn proud of myself for lasting as long as I did.”

Charlotte’s smaller hand covers mine, warm and solid, and she squeezes it in encouragement. She gives me a small smile, showing she’s proud of me, too.

“I’ve already put a call into Adam to schedule something when we get back to Arrowroot.

I’ll need to talk out some of the finer details with him, but I want you to know that I’m okay, all right?

” I dip my head to catch her eyes, praying that she can see the sincerity there.

“I felt confident that being with you and Winona would be enough to help control my anxiety—be reassuring enough to keep the grief from becoming too much. And in so many ways it did. I’ve learned I still have limits, and I was reminded of my biggest lesson in therapy: grief is not linear.

It has highs and lows, and there can be times that it settles harder and faster over me than I expect. ”

“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte whispers, but I don’t know what she’s apologizing for. I scoot closer, opening my legs to surround her body with my own.

“I don’t want you to apologize.” I hitch a finger under her chin, holding her. “I am always going to miss him. I’m always going to be angry that he’s gone. But I’ve spent years learning how to allow Travis’ life be what defines my memories of him, not his death.”

“It was so unfair.” Charlotte’s face crumples under her garbled cry. I bring her closer, cradling her head against my shoulder, giving her this moment. “After he was gone, I didn’t know how to help you. But I wanted to.”

“My healing had to be my own.” I run my fingers through her hair and allow my heart to crack open a little for the echo of a familiar ache to share the space with hers.

“The pain of Travis’ accident ran deeper in me than I knew.

Even if I had let you in, there were parts you couldn’t ease.

” I lean back, wiping tears from her cheeks as she lets out a snotty sniffle.

The sound is just disgusting enough to bring a necessary levity, and I give her a chaste kiss on the temple before continuing, “There were things about it that tied back to my parents and upbringing, and the decisions I was making before you came into my life. I had been applying so many Band-Aids to the bullet wounds of being abandoned and abused, I was completely incapable of seeing that my friendship with Travis was the first step in stitching myself back together. When he died, it ripped all of them back open.”

“But I—” Charlotte opens and closes her mouth, searching for the words.

“No, baby,” I tell her gently. “You couldn’t have.”

Understanding passes between us. My issues were so much bigger than the unexpected death of my best friend, and no amount of Charlotte’s love was going to help.

She holds me a little tighter, and silently, I know she recognizes that, despite the pain and the years apart, this was the journey we needed to take to be together.

We’ve come back to each other as better versions of ourselves.

Aside from Adam, there isn’t anyone who knows what I’m about to confess. “Travis left me in his will.”

“What?” Charlotte’s surprise sends her eyebrows rocketing to her hairline. I chuckle softly at the sight.

“Yeah.” I soothe my fingers over the ridges on her forehead, smiling with the barest hint of sadness.

“About six months later, I got a letter from his attorney that provisions had been made for me by Travis Frost. I was a mess,” I shake my head, thinking back to that spring.

“I was in therapy two to three times a week and had just started to feel like I was coming back to myself. Not better, but I could feel again. In all the years we knew each other, I had no idea the guy planned for things like that, and it sent me reeling for a couple of days. After I got it together—or so I thought—I learned that he set aside fifty thousand dollars for me.”

“Wow.”

“Wow,” I repeat. I rearrange us, encouraging Charlotte to lie beside me, her head on my chest. “It’s the reason I was able to keep this place. It made the mortgage payments until I was working again and helped with the beginning of the build.”

“Wild, that’s…” Her voice trails off for a moment, her hand tracing idle patterns along my sternum. “I can’t believe it.”

“Neither could I,” I say, bringing my own hand up to press hers against me.

I like the feel of it against my heartbeat, and I smile.

“Sure, it made things harder at first. The constant reminder of him, but ultimately, it made appreciating him easier. I surrounded myself with both of you, and grew determined to figure out a way to get you back one day.”

We hold each other, letting our minds drift, and the emotions of the day finally bleed away.

Drained by the comfort of each other’s arms. The monitor crackles, and then there is the pounding of little feet on the hardwood floor of the hallway.

Charlotte and I prop ourselves up when Winona enters our room, Meehaw wrapped tightly in her arms and a heartbreaking expression on her face.

“Mama, I had a bad dream.”

Charlotte crosses to her in a flash, bundling up our girl into her arms and pressing reassuring kisses to her brow. I watch her whisper quiet words, Winona tucking herself against her mother as she’s soothed and comforted. My heart swells with love, so full it feels impossible to have anymore.

My girls.

“Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”