Charlotte's Story

Ren

Ryder's POV:

I turn from pounding on the back door; standing twenty feet away is Ren, the ocean behind her; she is drenched from the rain.

When it had started, I wondered if what I was doing was stupid, and I should just leave, but then I stood underneath the shelter of her porch and waited for her. I started pounding, wondering if she had not heard me. But then I could feel her eyes on me; it surprises me that I can still tell when she is nearby.

I turn, and her eyes are filled with confusion, her eyebrows knit together, and I can tell she is overthinking all of this. I just came for answers, and that was what I was going to get.

"Hi," I said to her when she finally made it to me; I wanted to run to her, I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and run her into her house.

She was in yoga capris and her USM sweatshirt she used to wear all the time. She wore no makeup, and I am still taken back by how beautiful she is; her hair was lighter than I remember and shorter; I imagine running my hands through it and breathing her in.

"Hello," her voice comes out guarded and quiet; I would have missed her talking if my eyes were not glued on her lips, my favorite thing about her face.

She shivers; I step aside so she can let me in her house. Her hand turns the knob, and I shake my head, angry that she would leave her house unlocked for anybody to walk right on in.

I wish I would have tried it; it would have been nice to look at how Ren had been living for the last two years.

She leaves me standing in the kitchen without saying where she was going.

Her condo was excellent, better than I thought it would be. The layout is an open concept with natural light flooding in; anywhere from the backside of the house had a view of the ocean; it was like having a living painting on your walls. I follow the kitchen around to a small hallway off to the right; the door on the left is open, and I step in. It is her office, her laptop is sitting opened, the screen is on a post from her first year living in Maine.

Did she constantly go back and reread her blogs?

And then I see a journal to the right of her laptop.

On top of it are the words: book ideas? There was a drawing of a cloud next to it. There are only two items on the list: Luke and Daisy. My fist clenches together; I wasn't even an idea of hers.

I shouldn't be too surprised. I had thought I had moved on or fooled myself into it. Just like Ren had said, life throws you detours, and you have no clue where they would take you.

But something told me in my bones that Ren wasn't a detour; she was the final destination.