The other half of my heart belongs to George. And that pain is altogether different. Against my initial better judgment, I fell for him. And boy, did I fall hard. George could own his part of me, take it and love it, treasure it even, but he’s choosing not to. And in that, I feel hopeless and lost. How do I move on without a complete heart? How do I navigate through life with nothing but an empty chest of what-ifs? It bothers me to go back into that dark place, but the pain is becoming too much to bear. I had a plan. To end it, and as sad as it may sound, a part of me believes that would’ve been better than this. Losing the McDermott brothers will be my undoing. Ike saved me, but what for? To go back to the life I’ve lived for the last five years, but this time carrying the pain of having loved and lost? I have no idea if George will ever speak to me again, and I don’t want to say good-bye to my best friend. I did it once with Axel, and I almost didn’t survive. How can I possibly do it again? Am I really destined to be all alone?
I shake my head at my darker thoughts. I could never regret it; not one moment of it. Meeting and loving each of them has been my life’s greatest accomplishment. I didn’t know what life was until death came to my door. And I had no clue what love was until Ike forced me to live. He gave me a second chance at life when he brought me to this town and showed me the beauty of it. ‘Where one goes to rejuvenate,’ he had joked. I lived in a consuming darkness—barely getting by—and he brought me to the light. And although the pain is unyielding, I won’t forget my brief time in the warmth, and I refuse to let it go.
I let out a snort when the magnitude of how fucked up our situation is hits me. I just imagined a lifetime of love with Ike. We laughed and loved and fought, and it was beautiful. Our situation is so complex. I love them both, equally and for very different reasons. And while a tiny little voice inside of me whispers that it was wrong to share that with Ike—even though it was a dream—when my hopes are for George to come to his senses and make me his, I’ll never regret it. If George had been the soul that found me on the bridge that night instead if Ike, I would have imagined that beautiful life with him. But he didn’t. It was Ike that found me. And it is Ike who loves me enough to understand that he shares my heart with his brother.
Hopping up, I shake the blanket off and I make my way back to Sniper’s truck. Once inside, I pop open the large toolbox in the backseat and remove a large hunting knife.
Walking back down toward the shore and gripping the knife tightly, I decide there’s only one thing left to do where Ike is concerned; show him what he means to me.
By the time Ike appears back at the motel, I’ve already showered and put on my pajamas. I’m lying in bed when suddenly he’s there beside me. He rolls on his side so his eyes are level with mine. “Hey, beautiful,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I reply and muster up the best smile I can. “Did you go see George?”
“This morning before you woke up.”
“How is he?”
“He’s going to be okay. He said good-bye to me.”
My eyes widen. “So he believes you were there?”
“I think so,” he answers and nods. “I don’t feel that weight anymore.”
I want to cry—because I’m not at all ready for him to go—but I feel like that’s all I’ve done for days and days. “When, Ike? When will you go?”
Ike closes his eyes and swallows hard. He doesn’t have to say it; I know it will be soon. “We should say our good-byes now, Charlotte.”
The finality of it all hits me. This is it. How am I supposed to sum up how much he means to me? There aren’t enough words meaningful or poetic enough to show how I feel or that would do him justice. Lamely, I say, “I’m going to miss you so much.”
Ike gives me his signature sly grin. “What will you miss most? My amazing sense of humor, or this hot body?” He motions a hand down from his head to his toes.
I can’t help but chuckle through the tears I refused to shed only moments before. “Your ass. That’s my final answer. Mostly that hot ass of yours,” I laugh.
Ike laughs out loud, his eyes twinkling. “I knew you only liked me for my epic ass. You’re so cliché,” he jests.
We both grow quiet and I take another stab at expressing my feelings for him. “I’ll miss your laugh, your killer smile, and Ike, you do have a killer smile. Sometimes it hurts, it’s so beautiful. I’ll miss how you always find a way to make me laugh. I’ll miss the sound of your dog tags jingling under your shirt as you move around.” His soft brown eyes stare into mine as I speak, soaking up every word.
“I’ll miss your potty mouth,” he tells me, and we both grin. “I’ll miss how calm and peaceful you look while you’re sleeping. You have no idea how badly I’ve wished I could touch you when you’re sleeping, your skin so soft and smooth. And I’ll miss your courage and kindness.”
“Thank you, Ike,” I say, as my lip trembles. “I’ve never thanked you for saving me.”
“Oh, baby girl, you saved me,” he says, softly, as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. “I’m dead and I still got to fall in love with my best friend. I’m a lucky bastard.”
“D-do you think we’ll see each other again? On the other side, I mean?”
He takes a deep breath. “I do. But not for a long time,” he insists. “You’re going to grow old, Charlotte. You’re going to live a long and beautiful life. The happy life you deserve.”
“But when it’s time, if you can, will you try to find me? Will it be you who welcomes me to the other side? I want to know that you’re okay.”
“Come hell or high water,” he promises. “And I mean it. If I can be the one to bring you over to . . . wherever it is, I will. But I need something from you.”
“Anything,” I weep softly.
“Wait for George. He has a plan. Give him some time, he’ll come around.”