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.”