Page 130 of The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

I’ve had Mom’s attorneys draw me up a new business agreement. I’m making Reese and Lainey true partners. After surgery, I need to spend most of my time focusing on therapy and recovery. Travel will be particularly difficult. Plus, there’s you with your promise of sexing me up nonstop. I can’t be in, say, Seattle while you are in San Diego. You have a big penis, but it’s not that big. (And thank God for that).

I’m going into surgery in three days. I’m terrified but hopeful. I want this to be over, and God, I wish you were home with me. I didn’t want to write that to you because I worry it will make you feel guilty about being away. Don’t feel guilty, but do know that I’m half a person without you.

Love you so much,

Charlotte

* * *

Dear Charlotte,

I had a long day and didn’t think I would have the energy to write tonight. I had just enough in my tank to dump a bucket of water over my head and then fall into bed. I still had my boots on, but even though my body was exhausted my mind kept telling me I couldn’t sleep yet because I hadn’t written you. I picked up the pen and started writing your name over and over again—dear charlotte, dear charlotte, dear charlotte—until I realized that those words were my heartbeat.

I fell asleep on the paper and woke up in the morning, pen still in my hand, your name scrawled all over.

It kills me to be away from you. I hate that you are scared and I’m not there to hold your hand. Remember that you have power in your fragility.

Lean on our families. We’re stronger because of our connections. Draw from their love and strength when your reserves are low.

Know that I’m with you. That I love you. That I’m so proud of you.

Stay strong, baby. I’ll be home soon.

Nate

* * *

Dear Nathan,

I do feel you on the other end of the pen. I envision you opening a letter and holding the paper in your hands. Your eyes moving back and forth as you take in my little writings. In that moment, we’re together. No matter how far apart we are, our hearts are connected.

The surgery went well. I feel so much better, as if a dark mantle has been lifted. Preliminary results look very good but, of course, I’m told not to read much into it. (I’m reading everything into it. Going to live until I’m 101. Going to climb a mountain. Going to swim the English Channel.)

I’ve moved to San Diego. The whole family has. It’s as if I have my only little entourage. Our parents are currently searching out the exact right home for us. There’s a lot of disagreement as to what that might be. Mom is in love with this place in La Jolla that costs more than an arm and a leg. <- gimp joke. I can make those now.We’re not living in La Jolla, but the idea of being able to see the ocean every day is kind of irresistible. I’ll keep you posted.A friend of yours came to visit me. Ford Hughes? He said he was a prior teammate of yours who left to join some other military group with a lot of letters in the name. He told me that you are the best guy that he ever knew. And that I should wait for you. And not fall in love with any of the other guys in the ward.He went around and told everyone I was taken. We had a good laugh about it. There’s a story in his eyes. I don’t know what it is, but it looks interesting.I’m doing mirror therapy now. I place it between my legs—no, not to look at my vagina—to make it seem like I have two limbs. The goal is to trick my mind into believing that the mirrored image actually exists. If the brain thinks I have a limb, my phantom pain from cramping goes away.I don’t really understand how it works, but as long as I start believing I have a leg then the stupid fake cramps will go away. Hurrah! At least that’s the theory. Our brains are wild, right?In two weeks my sutures will come out and they’ll fit me for my prosthetic. I’m excited about that.You stay strong too. I’m here waiting for you.Your loving wife,Charlotte47Charlotte“Looking good, Charlie. Lose that extra weight, did you?” Shelly Tighe gives me the thumbs up as she leaves the therapy room. They’ve worked her hard. The front of her purple “Let’s Do It” T-shirt is drenched. I lean against a crutch and slap her hand.“Yeah, all five pounds of it.”“Shit, is that all these things weigh?” She jiggles one of her legs.“It was just half the leg, and I got to keep the heavy thigh portion.”