There's Twice as Many Stars as Usual| L.S

46

a/n: time to fuck with the plot because i feel like it's getting repetitive 😏

Charlotte

After the two races following Silverstone, there was a few week-long summer break. I spent half of it in Switzerland with the Schumachers and the other half with Logan. Now mid Zandvoort week i had to head home due to some personal issues, meaning I would be missing another one or two races.

As I walked into my mother's house, I was hit with childhood memories, just like the last time I was here. The familiar scent of her cooking lingered in the air, and the old family photos on the walls brought a sense of nostalgia.

"MOM!" I called out, my voice echoing through the house.

There was no response, which was odd since her car was in the driveway. I searched the house, my concern growing with each empty room. Finally, she came through the door, followed by one of her high school friends.

"Oh my, hi Charlotte! I haven't seen you since you were a baby," he said, his voice warm but unfamiliar.

I nodded politely, my focus on my mother. "So what's the reason you asked me to come home?" I asked, my concern evident in my tone.

"Well, I need to talk to you about something, and I feel it's best if it were in person," she said, ushering me to sit down on the couch.

I took a seat, my heart pounding with anxiety as I looked between her and Matt.

"Well, I don't know how to explain this, but Matt and I have been talking for the past few months, and..." she trailed off, the words seeming to stick in her throat.

I looked at her, shocked, unable to process what she was saying. I sat there, nodding mechanically.

"As long as you're happy," I said, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes.

"I know this is a big change, but I don't want you to think I'm replacing Dad or moving on too fast," she said, her eyes searching mine for understanding. Matt nodded, a respectful distance in his demeanor, knowing he could never replace my father.

"It's been eight years, Mom. It's fine," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, and we continued a more regular conversation, but my mind was elsewhere. Eventually, I headed to my apartment, flopping on my bed as soon as I got inside. The emotional weight of the day finally hit me, and I let the tears spill freely, soaking my pillow.

I picked up my phone and shot Logan a text.

Me:
Hey Logan.
Do you have time to FaceTime? It's important.
Seen
I saw that he read the message but didn't respond. It was surprising since we were fine just last night, but I assumed he was busy. Desperate for comfort, I texted Mick and the girls, asking the same thing to both chats. Mick called me almost instantly.

"Charlie, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern

"She's talking to another guy," I blurted out, my voice trembling.

"Oh no, love, I'm so sorry," he said, his tone soft and comforting.

"I don't know how I feel. I'm definitely not happy about it, and I don't know how I'm going to cope," I said, my emotions spilling over.

"Have you tried talking to Logan?" he asked gently.

"Yes, but he left me on read," I said, frustration creeping into my voice.

"That's weird because he just answered me," Mick said, his confusion evident.

I scoffed, feeling a pang of hurt. Mick and I continued talking for a while, his presence comforting even through the phone. After our call, I tried to distract myself with some poetry writing, pouring my emotions onto the page. The catharsis helped a little, but the heaviness remained.

Eventually, I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling as the rain continued to patter against the window. My thoughts swirled, and I wondered how I would navigate this new reality with my mother, and why Logan hadn't responded. It was going to be a long few weeks.