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It felt like Charlie had been away for an eternity, even though it had been less than half a year. He let Sarah lead him by the hand up the steps and through the door. The familiarity washes over him as he walks through the entrance hall and heads towards the living room. It felt familiar and yet, he still felt like he was trespassing.
He knows he was missing and presumed dead for so long, he’s surprised a memorial wasn’t held.
The recovery had been long. Too long. Worlds away and no reliable service.
The house looks the same as it had when he left searching for Jack. Except now it felt like even his presence wasn’t enough to fill up the space.
“You kept the table.”
Charlie ran a finger along the scratched dark wood of the entrance hall table. One of the legs had a chunk missing. They kept saying they would get rid of it when they settled into the house but they never got around to it before he left.
“I meant to get rid of it but then you...” Sarah trails off as she places a hand against the small of his back.
Charlie nods and sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“It felt wrong.”
“Why?”
“I thought if I got rid of it, it would be like admitting you were really gone,” she confesses.
Charlie watches as Sarah’s face finally crumbles and he closes the distance between them slowly, pulling her close. She buries her face in the place it fits under his jaw, curls her arms around him, pressing their chests together to feel his pulse. He breathes in the familiar scent of her shampoo and soap, whispering apologies and monosyllables against her hair.
He can feel her hands trembling against his back as she clutches him for balance, clinging to him like he’s a lifeline. Almost like she’s unsure he’s here alive and well.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he says.
Charlie presses his lips to hers, cradling her head between his hands, thumbs running over her cheeks, smearing the remnants of her tears. He can tase the salt of a few errant drops that make their way into his mouth.
He felt every single moment they’d been apart in the kiss.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Sarah whispers into his mouth.
“I won’t.” He cups her face in his hands, staring down into her dark eyes. “There’s one thing we need to do, though.”
She nods. “Anything.”
“We need to get rid of that table.”
She smiles. “Welcome home, Charlie.”