the other side of us | ✓

1.22 | got a shot

The next day Mason found himself standing at Charlotte's front door again, his hand raised to knock. Charlotte was still at his house, sound asleep in his bed, and Mason had slipped out before she'd woken.

He knew that this was stupid. That he had bigger things to worry about, but this wasn't about which problem was most pressing. This was about which problem he could control.

He knocked. And waited.

And then the chief opened the door.

"Chief Evans," Mason greeted.

"Carlyle. Charlotte's not home," Chief Evans said, already edging the door closed.

"Actually, sir," Mason said, reaching a hand out to grip the edge of the door. "I was hoping that I could talk with you. About Charlotte."

"Why?"

"Because it's how my mother raised me. And it's driving Charlotte crazy."

The chief stared at Mason for a long second before opening the door wide and letting him inside.

"You've got fifteen minutes to make your case."

Mason smiled stiffly as the chief led him to the den. He took a seat at the edge of an armchair while Charlotte's father made his way to the corner of the room.

"Can I get you a drink?" Chief Evans asked, already reaching for a bottle of scotch.

"No, sir. I don't drink."

"Religious reasons?"

"Parental reasons. My father was a drunk."

Chief Evans paused in his pouring and looked at Mason in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. He's the reason we moved to the states, actually."

"And how long have you been here?"

The chief had taken a seat on the couch now, his glass in hand.

"Eleven years in the states; we moved here just after my sister was born. My father had just been arrested for being drunk and disorderly in public and it was just . . . better for Tara—that's my sister—if we left."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How's your sister now?"

"She's. . . good." As far as he knew, anyway. "She's in the hospital right now."

"Hospital?"

"She's got a condition. Paralysis. She was in a car accident a few years ago."

"Were you driving?"

"God, no. But I was at a party. And I wasn't there for her. She ran into the street, and the driver couldn't avoid her."

There was a silence and Chief Evans took a sip from his glass, the ice cubes clinking together.

"That's why I did it, you know."

"I'm sorry?"

"Why I was stealing things. I needed money for her surgeries and to help my mum pay the bills and that was the only job that I was good at—the only one that paid the kind of money that I needed," Mason explained. "Not that that excuses it. It was wrong, but I was nineteen when I started. It was all I could think to do at the time."

Mason could feel the chief staring at him, and he looked up to meet his gaze.

"Sir, I very much like your daughter. And I know that I'm not the man you envisioned her with. And that I'm in no way good enough for her. But I'll try to be. Because other than my family, nothing matters more to me than making her happy."