I opened the door to that patient’s room one day and found Laurel on her knees with his dick in her mouth. Turned out she wasn’t just focused on his recovery—she was intent on him. She told me that they’d fallen in love, but she didn’t want to say anything to me until she was sure he was going to make it.
For a long time, I told myself that Laurel broke my heart, but after meeting you, I’m not sure that was true anymore. I think Laurel hurt my pride. I think she damaged my ability to trust. But I don’t think she broke my heart, because I never for one moment felt for her the way I do about you, Emma.
As you’re reading this letter, you probably aren’t inclined to believe me. Knowing you, you’re probably pissed as hell that I left without saying good-bye. You’re furious that I took off again to ‘save the world’. But please believe me that I’m not trying to save the world this time. I’m trying to save myself.
I need to find my focus again. I can’t ever treat you the way I did last night. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, if you’d even offer it to me. But you do deserve a man who is whole and healthy, and that’s why I’m going away.
I’m not asking you to wait for me, Emma. I wish I could, because I’m scared shitless that some much better man will swoop in while I’m gone, and you’ll fall in love with him. If that happens . . . then I have no one to blame but myself.
But if you’re still around and interested by the time I come back to Florida, whether that’s in two weeks, two months or even longer, maybe we can talk about what comes next for us. If there is still an us.
For now, though, please take care of my wing, as I know you will. Try to be patient with Mira; she likes you, even if she pretends she doesn’t. And know that every night we’re apart, I’ll be counting the days until we might see each other again.
With love,
Deacon
1
Emma
“UGH! Where the hell are you?”
The fact that the man in question didn’t answer me wasn’t his fault, since he wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity of my voice. That was part of the problem; I didn’t know where he was, and he wasn’t picking up his phone. He’d promised to be here at my little home on wheels fifteen minutes ago, and I was impatient.
I peered out my window, frowning. My most recently cultivated garden plots were just a few feet away, and there were promising rows of happy green plants lined up in each of them. I’d decided to leave the trailer here as a resting place for when I was out working in my fields and as a reminder of how far I’d come in a little over a year. Maybe someday, I’d gut the trailer and remodel it as a guest home, but for now, I had my hands full with my new cabin, the plants I was cultivating—and my full-time job as a naturopath at St. Agnes Memorial Hospital.
Building the cabin while trying to help run the oncology wing at St. Agnes hadn’t been easy. Luckily, I’d had lots of help from my friends, both at the hospital and out here on my land. I couldn’t imagine how I would have made it happen without them.
And speaking of those friends . . . they were probably wondering where I was. I pulled out my phone for the umpteenth time, about to click the redial button, when I heard the familiar sound of a pickup truck bumping over the dirt road, heading for my trailer.
Happy anticipation bubbled up inside of me, and today, I didn’t even try to tamp it down. Grabbing my sunglasses, I burst out of the door and stood on the edge of my small porch, bouncing on my toes as I waited for the truck to come to a halt.
“Happy moving day!” Noah’s grin was wide as he swung down from the driver’s seat. His easy grace and lithe movements always impressed me; he was such a big guy, all solid muscle and incredible strength. He’d told me once that part of his training included ballet and yoga, because the position he played on the football field required agility. I could totally see that.
Circling the back of the truck, he stopped just in front of