Hell on Heels (27 page)

I was no longer the woman who needed saving.

I was by no means healed in completion, but I was a woman willing to save herself.

I was a woman who believed she deserved to give herself her best shot at life.

Looking up, I watched as the sky filled with white lanterns. I watched as hundreds of people said goodbye.

It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

My eyes moved over the crowd and I marveled at the three men I’d invited here tonight.

Beau.

Maverick.

Dean.

They were in such stark contrast to one another. Light, dark, and somewhere in between. Sometimes, I wondered if their reflection wasn’t an exact duality of Heaven and Hell. Angels and demons. The sinner hired to protect the saint. My three perfectly rounded out by a mortal man whose sins hardly made him a saint, but whose heart did not plague him a sinner.

How could I ever choose?

The smaller part of me, still broken and naïve, wanted to never choose, wanted to love each of them, but the larger part of me that had begun to heal knew now that there was only one.

As I admired them all one last time, the saint, the sinner, and the mortal, I imagined the woman I’d be with each of them.

She would be great, because I was great, but I had chosen.

The gambler in me was finally ready to double down on my heart.

As we rounded the completion of the lantern ceremony, I found it was ironic where life takes us. The things that break us eventually make us whole again.

I watched the waiter approach him, delivering the note I’d written earlier today. It asked him to meet me under the canopy after the speech.

Where I would tell him I had chosen him.

I was healing—not healed, but healing—and I was ready to share that, with him.

Kevin cued my return to the podium to conclude my speech. “It would be my wish for each and every one of you tonight to find peace in the letting go of your loved ones, but also to find a newfound determination to aid in the prevention of this loss.”

The crowd fell quiet again as I spoke.

“Let us exhaust ourselves, ensuring that we suffer no more casualties to the war of addiction.”

Applause ensued, and now my voice spoke over it.

“Thank you for joining us tonight at our fifth annual Halo Foundation Gala.”

Then, I was done.

Kevin kissed my cheek and whispered, “You did good, babe.”

I did good.

I left him to wrap up information on our sponsors and the different ways people could assist the foundation, disappearing through the white backdrop of the stage again.

“That was amazing, Char.” Tom hugged me.

“You were…wow.” Tina wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

“We’re really proud of you.” Emma put her thin arms around all of us.

I enveloped their warmth. “Thank you for everything, and Emma?”

She looked at me.

“The lanterns were beautiful.”

She beamed.

We stood like that for a second, listening as Kevin spoke, and then I smiled. “I’m sorry, but I have somewhere I have to be.”

They let me go, and I ran.

I ran onto the ground behind the stage, stopping when the grass slowed me.

Lifting my dress, I untied the mass of string to my knees and stepped out of my heels.

I ran again, the gold stilettoes now swinging in my hand.

I hoped he’d come.

The canopy wasn’t far, halfway between the stage and the crowd, in the center of the lake.

I ran into the canopy and spun in a circle.

He wasn’t here.

I looked up and said a little prayer.

If Henry was still listening, I hoped he heard me.

“He’s coming, Charlie bear.”

Then I felt him.

Turning, I saw the light of the moon as it reflected off his face.

“You’re carrying your shoes.”

I laughed as he walked towards me.

“You came.”

He smiled.

“I did.”

I smiled.

“Are you going to kiss me now or what?” I asked.

And he did.

He kissed me.

So I had learned.

Maybe life wasn’t so much about the highs and the lows, but about the space in-between.

I chose him, not because he was the better man—all three men were great men.

I chose him because he was the better man for me.

I chose him, because I wanted to try and live the space in-between, with him.

I was borrowed parts of a million people taped together in a once broken soul that was now healing.

I didn’t know where we went from here. All I knew was I wanted to try.

THE END.

In place of an epilogue, please find this letter…

To you, my reader,

First, let me start off by saying, I know.

I know you wanted me to tell you which man Charleston chose.

I know this isn’t the happily ever after you were hoping for, but I think sometimes, like life so often shows us, it’s not always the ending we want that matters; it’s the ending we need or the one we didn’t see coming that gives us the most in return.

I know you wanted a hero in the story, but I promise you, you have one.

Charleston is her own hero.

And she is mine.

In writing Charleston, it healed a small part of me, and for that, I am forever grateful and indebted to her. She is by no means a glorified heroine. She is imperfect and she has a soul embedded with flaws, as we all do, but I hope in her you find a mirror, as I did, one that reflects all the beauty and strength in you, not in spite of your trials and tribulations, but because of them.

Addiction is graceless and crippling.

It haunts a part of my heart that will never be free of the shadows it so desperately craves, and each day, I will bear the realities of the wounds it continues to don on my family.

To love an addict is among some of the few things I would not wish on any person. For when you love someone, it is especially taxing to watch their demons creep in like fog, surrounding their heart, as you stand with your feet bound, unable to chase them away. Worse, is when it clears and they find their likeness in your eyes. It won’t matter how much love you pour into them, for all they will see in that moment is the devil’s back as addiction flees with another fragment of their soul in his pocket.

I know it is easy to get lost in your love for others. We often find ourselves so willing to sacrifice our lives for those we care about, but that would be a grave injustice. It took many years for me to learn the blessing that comes in the cloak of boundaries. There is no shame in acknowledging the lines in the sand that keep you whole. You are no less loving, and you are no less empathetic for their suffering by choosing to honour your limitations.

Maybe for you, this story was about redemption and forgiveness.

Maybe for you, it was about simplicity and acceptance.

Maybe for you, it was about challenge and growth.

Maybe for you, it was just another book, and that’s okay too.

Maybe this time, in this book, it is not so much about the man who romances her, but about the woman who chose him.

You don’t need to know his name. He is whoever you needed him to be, just as he was for Charleston. Because the man you choose won’t be perfect; you aren’t either, and more importantly, that’s okay. It’s what makes love all the more beautiful, choice. The great loves are not the ones with whom had no other choices, but the ones who had endless options, yet still chose each other.

I believe that at any given point in our lives there is someone out there for us.

The world is filled with people who will touch your soul in different ways, and that’s part of what makes living so exciting. You could meet someone tomorrow, who would change your life in a way you never saw coming and perhaps weren’t ready for.

We shouldn’t decide to love people because we are ill equipped to love ourselves; rather, we should choose to love others, because we are so full of self-love that we are bursting with the opportunity to share that love with whomever our hearts ache for.

For, you always belong to you before you belong to someone else.

I will leave you, my reader, with this… May you rain down your absolute presence on this world and make no apologies for it. You are a beautiful person, inside and out, and with each step you take, worship yourself. Let them fear you, and let them quake with the urge to touch you, but most of all, let them earn the right to love you.

You are hell on heels to me, and I believe in you.

From my soul to yours,

Anne Jolin

x

For my beautiful beta readers: Amanda S
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derlund, Larni Phipps, Taylor Holbrook, Alycia Sanchioni and Elizabeth Thiele. Thank you for treating this book with such care and for your encouragement. You are a wonderful group of women.

A special thank you to my sister, Sarah. I know this book hits home for you in the way it does for me and I am endlessly grateful to have had your support while writing it. I love you.

Kayla Robichaux, thank you for your flawless work and for never letting me lose my voice as an author. I am incredibly grateful to work with you.

Stacey Blake from Champagne Formats, my formatting whiz. Thank you for yet another beautiful job. It was such a pleasure getting to meet you this year. If possible, I adore you even more. You’re wonderful.

Robin Harper at Wicked by Design. Thank you for taking the vision in my head and making it become a reality with this amazing cover. I really am so in love with it.

Lydia Quintana at HEA Book Tours & PR, my talented friend, thank you for putting up with my crazy and for getting this book in the hands of readers. You’re the best.

For my angels, the best street team a girl could ask for, thank you for all the love and support you’ve shown me.

For all the readers, these books are for you, so thank you for reading. I love you all more than you could possibly know. I wouldn’t be able to create these stories if it wasn’t for you.

To my friends and family, my life is richer and more beautiful because you’re in it. Thank you for everything.

MAD LOVE. x

I was born and raised in Ladner, a small farm town just outside Vancouver, Canada.

I never expected to be an author. Writing was something that snuck up on me and rooted itself into my life. It was beautiful to discover that love, and I’m truly grateful to say I’ve found my passion.

If I could leave y’all with one thing, it’s that life’s far too short to not live it out loud. Drown in your passions, hold on tight to the things that inspire you, and chase your dreams relentlessly. I can promise you without a doubt that you won’t regret it. I know I don’t.

Mad love,

Anne Jolin