Page 48 of Made for Wilde
“Charlotte, look at me.”
I turn. His eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them.
“Baby, I want you to know that these last two days have been the best of my life. What we shared these last two days meant everything to me.”
Tears well up in my eyes. I blink rapidly.
“I wish so bad that things could be different,” Koda says. His hand reaches for mine, engulfing it completely. “If you were anyone else... Charlotte, baby, I would choose you in a heartbeat.”
A tear escapes and slides down my cheek.
“But I’m not anyone else,” I reply.
“No.” His thumb brushes away the tear. “You’re not. You’re Jason’s daughter. And besides my sister, he’s the closest thing to family I have.”
I swallow hard. “So I guess this is goodbye.”
“It has to be.” His voice cracks slightly. “We can’t do this to him.”
“I know.” Another tear falls. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”
Koda’s fingers tighten around mine.
“What if we run into each other?” I ask. “At Dad’s or something?”
“We’ll be adults about it.” His expression hardens. “We’ll be polite and distant and... safe.”
Safe.
The word feels like a prison sentence. I want to be reckless and stupid and wrapped in his arms again. I want to tell my dad the truth and deal with the fallout. I want to be brave enough to fight for this.
But I’m not.
“I should go,” I whisper as I pull my hand from his.
The loss of contact leaves me cold.
Koda nods, his face settling back into that unreadable mask I’ve seen him wear around others. It hurts to watch him put it on for me now.
I reach for the door handle, but hesitate.
“Will you be okay?”
Something flickers in his eyes.
“Eventually,” he says.
I step out of the truck, the cold morning air slapping my face. The door feels impossibly heavy as I push it closed.
Through the window, Koda watches me.
I stand there for a moment, waiting for... I don’t know what. For him to change his mind? For me to find the courage to change mine?
He raises his hand in a small wave, then turns the key in the ignition.
The engine roars to life and I force myself to step back, to turn toward my building, to walk away.
Each step feels like moving through concrete.
