done reading my letter to her. It’s filled with a lot of “I’m sorry. I wish we had fought to keep our closeness.” And “I’m so glad we were a united front for Taylor this past year.”
I love you, Taylor. I’ll always be your best friend. No matter where I am or where you are, we’re still family. Physical distance can’t hamper our bond, and since I’m not there, do not let a certain someone hurt you. If he does, let him know that I’m coming back to kick his ass. I’ll get bigger guys to do the deed for me. I got your back, Taylor.
(But having written that, I did see how much he was worried about you that night. I may have to eat all my words. I think the guy does care for you, and if that’s the case, you have tamed the beast. Good luck. I’ve heard some of the crazy stuff he’s done. It’ll be a wild ride for you, so have fun with him.)
Okay. Shit. They’re honking. I really have to go.
I LOVE YOU, Taylor Laurelin Bruce. (I’ll be seeing you again, so this isn’t a goodbye letter.)
SEE YOU LATER— Jason
PS I made a call on your behalf. Please don’t be mad, and if you are, you can chew my ass out the next time we see each other. Because there WILL be a next time.
Using the back of my hands, I wiped the tears from my face. Claire was still reading her letter. Jason’s roommate (ex-roommate) handed us the two letters earlier, both sealed in envelopes, and mumbled something before taking off.
Once we got back into the car, Claire ripped into hers. I only held mine. I listened to her sniffling for a full minute before I had the strength to open it. And now, feeling gutted, I waited for Claire to be done as well.
Jason wanted me to burn the letter, but that wasn’t happening. I folded it up neatly and put it back into the envelope. When I saw him again, I’d burn it. Until then, this letter would never be destroyed.
It was my last contact with him.
A PSEUDO KIDNAPPING.
NOT REALLY.
REALLY.
LOGAN
Taylor’s ex-douchefriend’s head had started to bob up and down, back and forth, before the first moan came from him. I put him on a couch in the garage and kept the lights turned off—except for one spotlight trained solely on him. The only door was locked, and I stood right in front of it. The dipshit wasn’t leaving without giving me some answers.
“Wha…” His head raised from his chest. “Huh?”
“You good?” I called over to him.
“What?” His eyes opened, but shut again right away. He groaned and coughed before asking, “Where am I?”
“You and me.” I walked over to lean against my Escalade. “We’re going to have a chat.”
“Wait.” He still seemed so confused. Looking around, he lifted his hands and touched his face. “I was at the bar. I wanted to talk to Taylor, but this guy—” He stopped and squinted at me. “Was that you? Did you knock me out?”
I didn’t see the point of lying, so I shrugged and walked out from behind the light. As soon as he could see me, his head fell back against the couch. “You.”
“Me.” I smiled.
“Who are you?”
My smile switched to a frown. “I thought you’d recognize me.”
“No.” He blinked a few times before focusing on me again. “Who are you?”
“I’m the guy screwing your ex-girlfriend.” I leaned down in his face.
His eyes jumped to mine, and a flare of anger appeared, but he didn’t say anything.
“Now.” I went back to smiling, though I knew my eyes weren’t showing it. My eyes were saying a whole host of other shit. He should be scared of me. He should be scared of Taylor. He should leave and never come back.
A wary expression flickered over his face, and I knew he’d registered each and every one of those messages.
“You’re going to tell me why you came to see Taylor,” I said.
“Why I—no.” He shook his head, his voice growing stronger. “No, I won’t. That’s between her and me. I don’t care who you are.”
“Dude.” I felt a speech coming—a good rip-into-’em speech—and the more I felt it, the more I knew I was going to enjoy it. I hadn’t delivered one of these in a long time.
I’d started to lean down again when I heard a door shut outside. Cursing softly, I whipped around as I heard Mason’s voice.