32. Lottie

"Ijust need to see her. Please. Just for a minute."

"She doesn't want to speak to you."

The cold, late winter air whipped around my bare feet at the top of the stairs. Thunder cracked in the distance, lighting my father's frame as he stood in the doorway, the door obscuring my view of who I knew lurked on the other side.

"I know. I know that Brody," he said, his voice cracking. "I just need to apologize. Please."

"Dad," I breathed. I took one step down, clutching my nightdress between my fingers.

Something didn't feel right. I looked down, taking in the white, wispy material. I couldn't place it, couldn't remember putting it on, couldn't remember owning it. I watched in confusion as it slowly morphed, turning into checkered pajama pants and an oversized band shirt. My feet were less cold as socks appeared, and without thinking too hard about it, I nodded to myself.

"Go back to bed, Lottie," Dad said.

"Lottie!" Jared called. "Lottie, I need to speak to you!"

My chest ached as I took another step down. "Let him in, Dad."

"Fuck no." Dad took a step forward, pushing back against what I could only assume was Jared's rigid form. "Get out of here, Keelings. She's broken enough because of you."

A part of me knew that speaking to him wasn't a good idea, even if the why was blurry and covered in fog. But I still wanted to anyway, wanted to know what he had to say for himself, wanted to know if he could mend the little pieces of my heart that had cracked and shattered in my chest.

"I know I fucked up, Brody. Let me make it right."

"Dad, please," I said, taking another step down. The wind whipped again as lightning struck, casting a freezing breeze against my damp cheeks.

"If you don't get off this property right now?—"

My feet kicked into gear, carrying me down to the bottom of the staircase. My shoulder slammed against my dad's, pushing him out of the way as I stepped past him and out onto the porch. He's sick, I thought, but it faded before it was even fully remembered.

Jared stood there, soaked to the bone, his eyes red and puffy in the porch light. "Lottie," he breathed. "You're so… thin."

He wasn't wrong. I'd barely been eating since our fallout. My stomach churned at the idea of food.

"It's okay. I can fix that," he said, a soft smile spreading across his lips. "You're still beautiful."

"For fuck's sake, Hunter," Dad scoffed.

"Hunter?" I asked, glancing back at Dad in confusion. "Hunter who?"

I turned my attention back to Jared as lightning struck again. His face morphed in the flashing light, his hair shortening, his frame growing in size, his jawline hardening. For a brief second, he wasn't Jared. He was a familiar face that I couldn't quite place, a face that made my chest ache more than Jared ever had, a face that made my eyes water.

"I love you," Hunter said. "I'm sorry."

"I…" Words wouldn't come as I took a step back. This wasn't right, wasn't how it had happened. It wasn't Hunter. It was Jared, with his shoulder-length soaked hair and his hoodie and too-large jeans. "I love you too."

Jared's hand wrapped around my bare bicep, pulling me out onto the porch. Dad's frame took up the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. "Lottie, he doesn't love you."

"Yes, he does," I snapped.

"I do," Jared said.

"No man that truly loves a woman would tell her she was the reason her mother died," Dad fumed. "I have half a mind to get my goddamned shotgun from upstairs."

Dad's words stirred something inside me. I'd almost forgotten what Jared had said to me in the heat of the moment. It was easy when he was like this—weepy, apologetic, loving. But he was a monster.

"I think you should leave," I breathed.

"Lottie, no," Jared said, his voice sterner. His hands fumbled in the pocket of his hoodie. "Look, I… I came here to do more than apologize. I love you, Charlotte. More than life. More than myself. More than anyone I've ever met."

"Jesus," Dad cursed.

"I'm so sorry for everything. I'm a piece of shit, I know that. But you make me a better man. And I want that for myself, you know? I want to be that better man. For you, for us."

"You… want me to make you better?"

"For us. Make me better for us," he grinned.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, lightning flashed again and he was on one knee, his face morphing with every flash. From Hunter to Jared, Hunter to Jared, Hunter to Jared. What was happening?

"I want to do everything in the world with you," Jared said, sliding a little velvet box from his pocket. He popped it open revealing a pretty, shimmering diamond ring. "Marry me, Lottie."

"Oh, fuck no," Dad said.

"Jared," I croaked.

"Be with me forever. We can do it right, baby. We can start over."

Tears dripped down my cheeks but not a single sob crossed my lips. I just stared, stared at him, at the ring, for what felt like hours. My feet grew soggy in the pooling rain, my heart racing, and before I could open my mouth again, Dad's foot collided with Jared's shoulder.

"Get the fuck off my land," Dad barked as Jared's body rolled down the front porch steps. He landed at the bottom on his hands and knees, coating himself in mud. The open ring box lay face down in the dirt, and Jared scrambled to pick it back up, hoisting himself to his feet. "And don't you dare come back unless you want to leave in an ambulance."

Jared's footsteps fell hard against the stairs until he was back up on the porch, coated in mud and grass, soaking wet from the rain, one hand clutching the ring box in a death grip. His other wrapped itself around my forearm, tight and unwavering, hard enough to leave a bruise. "I'm not leaving without her," he called over my shoulder.

"I'm getting the rifle," Dad snapped, disappearing behind the doorway.

I could hear his footsteps banging against the staircase as I stared headlong at Jared. "No," I said softly.

"What do you mean, no?"

"No," I said again. "I don't want to marry you." His grip tightened on my arm. I sucked in air through my teeth as the wind whipped at my hair.

"You're marrying me, Lottie." His fingers fumbled with the ring box until he freed the dirt-covered diamond from its case and forced it onto my finger. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

I tugged, trying to get my arm free, but he only dug in harder, leaving little half-moons from his fingernails. "Please let go," I whimpered. "Please?—"

Gasping for breath, I shoved the blankets from my body, scrambling until I was upright in my bed. It was a dream. Just a fucking dream, just a nightmare of the worst goddamn moment I'd had with Jared. My nightshirt barely covered anything below my waist, and as I stared down at my body, I couldn't help but still feel the indentation of Jared's hand on my arm. If only he'd stayed away after that night.

Just a dream.

But why was he Hunter?

————

The sun shone through the break in the clouds, warming the little amount of skin I had left exposed to the crisp air. Dad looked out at the expanse of our property, his chin tipped up, his eyes locked on the tree line that led up into the mountains. He'd barely been able to move after the wedding, and even though he'd recovered a little, he was worse off now than he was before.

It was only a matter of time.

Sarah, my father's other on-call hospice nurse, had helped me walk him out once I'd set up the little picnic spot. Every comfortable pillow I could find in the house was out here, creating a nice little bed where Dad could sit back and relax outside of the hospital bed that made his back ache. Dana had cooked up some snacks, and after Dad's insistence, decided to join us as well.

"Where's Hunter today?" Dad asked, his voice barely audible over the wind rustling through the trees.

"Work," I said simply. I didn't know if it was true, but it was believable enough if it wasn't.

"You two should be off on your honeymoon."

I offered him a soft smile and half of a crab salad sandwich. He wasn't eating much lately, but I hoped he'd at least try to get something down. "I already told you. I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not having a honeymoon?" Dana asked, her mouth half full of a samosa.

I shook my head. "Nah. I'd rather be here." I don't want him to die while I'm away is what I really wanted to say, but the worry I knew Dad would feel over getting in the way of going on a honeymoon stopped me.

"Charlotte!"

I turned toward the house, shielding my eyes from the overhead sun. Sarah stood on the porch, one hand raised.

"Cole Pearson is here. Do you want me to send him down there?"

Cole Pearson. He was one of Dad's newer clients on the business front. I'm sure he'd heard the news about Dad's condition, but on the off chance he hadn't, I pushed myself up onto my feet. "Dana, watch Dad."

"I don't think he's going anywhere…"

I jogged up to the porch in my slippers and nodded my thanks to Sarah before slipping through the sliding glass door. Cole had come around a handful of times before I'd left for Hawaii, but I hadn't seen him since then. He stood tall in the living room, his eyes glued to Dad's semi-permanent spot in front of the television, surrounded by monitors and IV drips.

"Hey, Cole," I said.

"Lottie. Good to see you. Is your dad?— ?"

"He's still alive. We're just having a picnic out back."

"Thank God. Thought I'd missed the memo," he chuckled. It was unusual to see him dressed in plain clothes, an ordinary shirt and sweater combo over jeans. I was used to seeing him in professional workwear, but it didn't take away from his looks. "Do you mind if I come say hello?"

I shook my head and gestured toward the open sliding glass door. "Not at all. He'll be glad to see you. Just don't, uh, mention the dying thing. He gets a bit weird about it."

"Got it."

I led Cole out to the backyard. Dana was laughing at something Dad had said as we stepped through the grass. I made a mental note to get the lawnmower tuned up before spring, the lawn was already getting a little unruly and I wouldn't have Dad around to mow it.

"Dad, Cole's here to see you," I grinned, dropping down beside him on the blanket and picking up one of the sandwiches.

"I've got cancer, honey, not hearing loss. I heard Sarah when she announced him earlier."

Cole offered Dana a small wave before he sat down beside her and in front of my father. "Nice to see you, Brodes. How are you holding up?"

Dana snorted. "You can't just ask a dying man how he's holding up."

Dad rolled his eyes. "Cole, this is Dana, Lottie's friend. Dana, this is Cole. He runs a brewery downtown."

"A brewery?" Dana grinned, her eyebrows raising as she looked him up and down. Why did I allow her to stay? "Like, beer?"

Cole nodded. "Craft beer. We just opened up last year."

"Maybe I should come check it out," Dana giggled.

Cole's smile morphed into a smirk as he looked at her. "Maybe you should. I'd be happy to give you a private tour."

"Get a room," Dad coughed, holding his barely clenched fist over his mouth as if it would do any good.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out as Cole said something to Dad, a bit of business talk and an apology for his shameless flirting. A text message from Hunter lit up my screen.

We need to talk. Come over. I'll cook.

My upper lip curled in irritation. I didn't want to talk to him, in fact, I'd avoided just that for a week now.

"I'll be right back," I sighed, shoving myself to my feet again and walking toward the house. I just needed a moment to think, a moment to decide if I wanted to give Hunter the benefit of the doubt that it wouldn't be another argument, or if I wanted to stay with Dad and enjoy the time I had left with him.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter and stared down at the text. Three little dots bounced in a bubble on my screen, indicating he was typing something else, but whatever it was never came. He must've typed and deleted.

"What's up?"

I looked up from my screen at Dana's curious face stuffed with the last of her samosa. "Just Hunter. He wants to talk."

"Marriage struggles already?"

Dana was the only person who knew it wasn't a real relationship, at least not to the extent that we were pretending it was. She didn't know about what happened before the wedding. She didn't know we were barely speaking. "Something like that."

"You don't want to talk to him?"

"Not really," I scoffed. "There's a lot going on. I just don't know if I have the patience for it, not with Dad being so… close."

"You can't think about that right now," she sighed. "You're married. You have to survive through at least the next year without killing him or yourself. Do you honestly think that not fixing this is what your dad would want if he knew the circumstances?"

I blinked at her. She hadn't used my father's state of health against me at any point up until now, and even though I knew she was right, she also didn't know enough to make that call. If Dad knew the circumstances, he would probably collapse on site.

"Go talk to him. I'll stay here with your dad and Cole."

I narrowed my gaze, flicking my line of sight out the window to where Dad and Cole were chatting before looking back at her. "You're just going to fuck him on my bed."

Her mouth popped open as her cheeks turned red. "I would not fuck him in the same house as your dying father, Lottie."

"But you would fuck him."

"Obviously."