“I don’t need to. I know it’s perfect.”
“Well, if you didn’t come up here to see the bathtub, what’s up?”
“We’re not getting back together.” It flew out of my mouth.
“Well, let’s not pull any punches.”
“I’m sorry, I mean, I wanted that clear before I say what’s next.” I started pacing back and forth in front of the bed. Man, the carpet was really soft.
“Well, after that intro, I can’t wait to hear it.” He leaned forward a little, bracing his hands on the footboard. “But first, I’m supposed to tell you that I’m sorry. Again. Louder maybe, so Colt can hear. He’s advised me that girls like it when you say sorry. So, I’m truly, deeply sorry for lying to you. For letting you think I was dead. For not reading your letters after Ryan died. If I had, I never would have stayed away when you asked me to come.”
“You read the letters?” After everything, he’d finally opened them.
“I did. And I’m sorry. I should have responded. I should have come. I should never have kept it from you. I’m so incredibly sorry for the pain I caused you, and there aren’t enough words of remorse to express how I feel about costing you Ryan.”
I stopped pacing. “Beckett, I don’t blame you for Ryan.”
His eyes shot up to mine. “How can you not?”
“How can I?” I sat next to him on the wide edge of the footboard. “It wasn’t your fault. If there were any chance you could have saved him, you would have. If there were any way you could have changed the outcome, you would have.” I recited the words from memory.
“Ryan.”
“Yeah, Ryan. What happened to you over there, that’s not something anyone should have to go through. You didn’t intentionally kill that child. It was an accident. I know you, Beckett. You wouldn’t hurt a child. Accidents are horrid, and awful things happen with no reason and no blame. It wasn’t your fault. What happened to Ryan? That’s not your fault, either. You’re no more responsible for that than an African butterfly is a hurricane.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is. There are ten thousand ways to blame Ryan’s death on someone. It’s my parents’ fault for dying, for changing his life that way. My grandmother for not putting up a bigger fight when he wanted to enlist. Terrorists for making him feel like he needed to get out there and do something. Me, because I prayed for so long that he’d come home without detailing what condition I wanted him in. But none of that matters. He volunteered to go on a mission, and my guess is that he would have volunteered to go even if you had been there, because that’s who he was. He’s the same as my father—it just took me years to see it. If you want to blame someone, you blame the men who pulled the trigger, because that’s the only blame worth placing.”
He dropped his head. I turned, took his beard-rough cheeks in my hands, and lifted his face to meet my eyes. “Sometimes bad things happen. And there’s no blame to be placed. You can’t reason with the universe, no matter how sound your logic is. If everything made sense, then Maisie wouldn’t have cancer, and my parents would be alive, Ryan would be here. You never would have grown up the way you did. We are imperfect people made that way by an imperfect world, and we don’t always get a say in what shapes us. I do not blame you for Ryan. The only person who does, is you. And if you don’t let that pain go, it’s going to shape the rest of your life. You have that choice.”
“I love you. You know that, right? No matter what’s happened, or how badly I screwed this up, I love you.”
I dropped my hands, swallowed the lump in my throat, and nodded. “I know. And I wish that love and trust went hand in hand with us, but somewhere they got separated, and I don’t know if they can ever find their way back. I have to be able to believe the things you tell me, and that’s broken. Maybe if Maisie weren’t sick, and I was a little stronger…but I just can’t. Not right now, at least. And I know that you love the kids, and they love you. And I was wrong to cut you off from them. I was hurt and made some lame excuses in my head. But the truth is that I could always trust you with them. I mean, you’re their father.” I gave him a side nudge.
“On paper.”
“In reality.” Something clicked in my head. “This is why you didn’t press me to tell them about the adoption, isn’t it? You knew the truth would come out.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t want them in that position.”
“Yes.”
I stood and began pacing again. “Do you want a role in their lives?”
“God, yes. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”
He’d said those same words after the first time we’d been together. He’d lived them since he arrived in Telluride, always given me the choice on how far I’d let him in. He’d never pushed his way in, never demanded anything more than I wanted to allow.
It didn’t matter how badly he’d hurt me, Beckett was still the same guy I’d fallen in love with. The same man my kids loved and needed. The only thing that had changed was my perception of him—of us.
“Okay, then here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll just act like we’re divorced.”
“We were never married.”
“A minor detail. What I mean is that people who have one-night stands manage to share kids. You and I love each—loved each other. We can figure it out. If you’re serious about staying—”
“I built a house, Ella. What more do you want?”
“Are you still in the military?” I knew the answer, of course. He couldn’t get out, not while we needed the coverage for Maisie. But I also knew that once she was well he wouldn’t be able to handle settling in one place now that we weren’t together anymore, when all that kept him here was the kids. His nomadic soul would itch to move on.
“That’s not fair.”
“Yeah. I know.” I sighed. “Okay, if you’re sticking around…for now, then the kids can come over whenever they want. If you want to keep up the soccer stuff with Colt, we’ll work that out. If you want to hang with Maisie on the weekends, or whatever, we’ll see what works for everyone. You can have access to them, and them to you. We’re adults, and they’re kids. So we need to act more adultier than the kids. You need to speak up for your rights, and I need to give them to you. And I don’t want to hide the adoption from the kids, so maybe once Maisie is out of the woods, if you’re still here and everything, we should tell them that you’re really their dad. I mean, that’s what I’d intended before—”
I’d barely paused in my pacing, when I found myself enveloped by warm, strong arms and pressed against a hard, familiar chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered into my hair.
He smelled so good and felt so right. Maybe if we stood here long enough, nothing else would matter. We could just freeze the moment and live in it, surrounded by the love we had for each other.
But we couldn’t. Because he’d put me through hell for over a year, and no matter how much I loved him, I wasn’t sure I could ever trust him with my heart again, ever trust him to tell me the truth when it came to our relationship.
“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry for cutting them off from you. You always joke that you don’t have any relationship experience, but I don’t either, really. I handled it all wrong. But I’m going to be better starting now.”
“I’ll be here,” he promised. “I will show up for them and for you. I know you don’t have any faith in me, and that’s okay. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll earn back your trust one millimeter at a time. You won’t regret letting me adopt them, I swear.”
“I’ve never regretted that,” I said, wrapping my arms around him for a hug and then stepping out of the security of his arms before I did something stupid like believe what he’d just promised. “Want to tell the kids?”
“Yeah.” His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
; We found them at the cleared kitchen table, and they stopped their conversation immediately to look up at us.
“Did you fix it?” Colt asked.
“Not in that way, little man,” Beckett said softly.
“Did you say sorry?”
“I did, but sorry doesn’t fix the unfixable.”
Then Colt glared at me.
“Nope.” Beckett stepped forward and bent down. I always loved how he brought himself level to my kids. “You don’t get to be mad at the person who got hurt, or judge them for it, because only that person can tell you how deep the cut is, got it? This is not your mom’s fault. It’s mine.” He looked over at Maisie, who had tears in her eyes. “It’s mine.”
He stood back up and came to my side.
“So, we’re not together,” I reiterated. No good came from confusing kids. “But I know you guys love him, and he loves you. So from now on, as long as everyone is on the same page, you can come over whenever Beckett says it’s cool. Soccer, treatments, phone calls, visits, we’ll work it out.”
Maisie’s mouth popped open. “Really?”
“Really,” I promised her.
Colt had been a silent ball of rage since I’d split with Beckett, but Maisie had been the most openly vocal and sometimes downright mean.
“So you’re not together, but we get to keep him? He’s ours?”
More than you know.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
The kids flew out of their chairs, hugging Beckett, then me, then back to Beckett, then each other. Then Maisie hugged Beckett again and whispered something in his ear. He gave her a smile that bordered on tears and said, “Me, too.”
We walked the kids to my car, and they buckled in. Once the doors were shut, I turned to Beckett, who again had his hands in his pockets. For having a crazy amount of self-control, I’d picked up on that nervous tell easily enough.
“Thank you. For dinner, for taking care of Colt. For the land, and the house, even if it’s not mine. The intention was spectacular.”
“Thank you for them,” he answered.
“What did she tell you?”
“Really want to know?”
“Beckett,” I warned.
“She said that was her wish, the only thing she’d wanted was…me, in a roundabout way.”
“She wanted a dad,” I guessed. “You to be her dad.”
“They’re kids,” he said with a shrug, but I knew how much it meant to him.
“They’re our kids.”
“Look, I heard what you said upstairs loud and clear. I know that being together isn’t an option. But as trite as this sounds, I’d really love if we could manage to be friends. Even if it’s just for the sake of the kids.”
Standing there, outside the house he’d built for me, I wished I’d never known. Wished he’d never lied or that we could take it all back. Wished he wasn’t both of the complicated men I’d fallen for. But he was, and he did.
And despite everything, I still loved him.
“Yeah. I think we can manage that.”
“I’ll earn your trust back, no matter how long it takes,” he promised again.
Even if I wasn’t ready—wasn’t sure I’d ever be—I wanted to believe that he could, and that desire lit a tiny kernel of hope in my heart.
It wasn’t a bright enough fire to keep me warm, not like our love had.
But it was a spark.
“I need to learn to give out those second chances. Small steps. Good night, Beckett.”
He nodded and stood on the porch until we pulled out of view.
Six Months Later
Chapter Twenty-Five
Beckett
Letter #23
Chaos,
It’s been two days since we buried Ryan. You didn’t come, and you haven’t answered my letter. When I asked the guys from your unit if you were okay, at least I assumed by their haircuts they were from your unit, they told me they had no idea who I was talking about.
So yeah, they were from your unit.
If you’re not answering me, and you didn’t come to Ryan’s funeral, then I’m left with one option that I can’t bring myself to ask. Because I don’t know if I could bear it.
You’ve become something I never expected, this silent support who never judges. I didn’t realize just how much I’ve come to depend on you until you weren’t here. And I’m terrified. You told me once that you’re only scared if you have something to lose. And I think, maybe, we do have something to lose.
There’s so much pain right now. So much that I feel like every second I’m awake, I’m at a ten on that little hospital chart. Scratch that, I’m at a nine. I can’t be at a ten, right? Not when I have Colt and Maisie. But it hurts so much.
Ryan. I watched them lower him into the ground on our little island and still can’t put all the pieces together to form a real picture. Everything feels hazy, like some nightmare that I can’t wake up from. But at night I dream Ryan is home, and you show up at my door—a blurry figure I can never quite remember in the morning. Dreams have become the reality I want, and I wake up to the nightmare.
So I’m begging you, Chaos. Don’t be dead. Please be alive. Please don’t tell me that you were there with Ryan, that you met the same fate. Please tell me that you weren’t buried somewhere at a funeral I was never told about. That I wasn’t robbed of the only chance I’d ever have to stand within a few feet of you.
Please show up in a couple of weeks and tell me you’re fine, that it was too painful to respond to my letters. Tell me you’re broken up over Ryan. Just please show up.
Please don’t be dead.
~ Ella
…
“You’re sure about this?” Donahue asked through the phone.
“I am. You’re holding the paperwork, right?” I unhooked Havoc’s work vest and hung it in her locker, which was right next to mine.
“Yep.” He sighed. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“It’s September,” I said with a laugh. “That means it’s been eighteen months since I went on terminal leave.” Two years since I got Ella’s first letter. “You can’t keep me on the bench forever, coach.”
“I have three more years.”
“Nah. It’s time.” I grabbed my car keys from the hook in my locker and glanced at the pictures that covered the interior door. Hiking with Ella and the kids last month. Camping this summer. Colt after he won his league semifinals. Maisie finally getting to swim in the lake a few months after she’d completed immunotherapy. Ella sitting with Havoc’s head in her lap. Ella and I were still in the friend zone, but they were my family, and this was my home. Getting the full-time slot that opened up a couple of months ago meant my new insurance fully covered Maisie, so all the pieces were finally in place. “I miss you guys. Not going to lie. You were my first family. But I’m never leaving Telluride. We both know it. Hell, Ella broke up with me seven months ago, and I’m still here. I found a home. And besides, Havoc is getting fat.”
She whined and tilted her head at me.
“It’s okay, I like you with a little curve,” I reassured her with a pat, well aware she had no idea what I’d said in the first place. “And it’s only five pounds.”
“Okay. If you’re sure, I’ll accept it. But if anything ever changes, you call me. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir. But nothing’s going to change.”
He sighed. “You’re a good man in a storm, Gentry.”
“Funny, that’s not what you said when I was there.”
“Can’t have you getting a big head on me. Later.”
“Later.” There was a click, and the line was dead.
I slipped my phone into my pocket, and then shut our lockers.
Hers read, “HAVOC.”
Mine read, “CHAOS.”
<
br /> Because under it all, I was still me, and once I’d quit fighting it, I realized I was okay with that.
“Hey, Tess said to haul you home if you need dinner,” Mark offered as I hit the parking lot.
“I would, but Ella called earlier and said the kids want to have dinner, so I’m headed to her place. Tell Tess thanks.”
“Sure thing. How’s that going, anyway?” he asked, just like every other week. He’d become our not-so-silent cheerleader.
“Slowly, but going.”
“Fight the good fight.” He waved as we both got into our vehicles.
Havoc settled into her seat, and I brought the truck to life. We drove home with the windows down, Havoc sticking her head out the window. It was an Indian summer, with temps still in the upper seventies, which meant the hikers were here later than usual for the season but, since Labor Day had passed two weeks ago, it was a little quieter in the lower portion of Telluride.
I hit a button on the dash, and Ella’s voice filled my truck.
“Hey, you on your way?”
“Yep. Want me to grab the pizza?”
“That would be amazing.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay. Drive safe.” She hung up, and I smiled. Not together, but we were good. Sure, the sexual tension was still there, and I loved her—that was never going to change—but I was proving myself to Ella every day, and I couldn’t help but hope that one day it would be enough to repair what I’d broken. But hey, I’d lied to her for eleven months, and I was only seven months into my penance.
Truth was, I’d wait forever.
In the meantime, it was like being married without the whole marriage part.
There were days I thought our second chance was within reach, and days she felt a million miles away. But neither of us dated anyone else, and I held on to that tiny sliver of hope that the times I caught her looking at me meant we were getting somewhere.
The Last Letter Page 35
