There was no return address, no other markings that would indicate who’d written it.
Without thinking further, Stella tore open the envelope and unfolded the paper inside. It was a simple lined piece of paper filled with neat handwriting. Handwriting that she recognized and caused her heart to squeeze painfully in her chest.
Brandon had actually written her a letter?
For a second, Stella contemplated throwing the paper in the trash. Because she didn’t want to see. She didn’t know if she could bear to see Brandon’s heart poured out for her. Didn’t want his true feelings revealed and further remind her of the mistake she’d made by leaving him.
But she read anyway, because she couldn’t help herself.
Stella,
When Matt was six, he fell off his bike and hit his head on the concrete, knocking two teeth out of his head and sending us to the emergency room. He cried and shook while the nurse gave him five stitches on his chin. I was shaking just as badly, though I did my best to hide it. Because, you know, big tough dad and all that. I was only twenty-four and still didn’t know what the hell I was doing with a kid. But Matt would look up at me with those scared, teary eyes and I would at least try to fake my way through everything. It scared the shit out of me when I saw the blood pouring from his chin and the tears streaming down his face. The fear that goes through you when you see your child sitting on a hospital bed is unimaginable.
But…I’ve got to be honest with you, Stella. Walking away from you that day at your house? Knowing you were on a plane and flying hundreds of miles away, possibly for good? All that brought the same fear back. The same helplessness of seeing Matt being stitched up, the same fear gripping my heart came rushing back the moment you left. Because for the first time in my life I’ve finally found someone. That one special person I never really realized I’d been waiting for. She was finally here and I let her walk away, like a righteous idiot.
Despite that, it’s a decision I would make again because that’s where you belong. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I had kept you from something that meant so much to you. You light up when you’re teaching and the thought of students being deprived of your smile and warmth would have been a greater crime.
I don’t want you to think that letting you leave was easy for me. And it wasn’t because you don’t mean anything to me. Or that we don’t mean anything. Being with you has brought more smiles to my face than anything in recent years. Even if you did frustrate the shit out of me sometimes.
I don’t think I’m even going to mail this to you. But I just kind of needed to get everything out, you know? Cathartic, I guess you could say.
Matt misses you and so does Duke, the big dummy.
And okay, I miss you too. Like, a lot.
It actually kind of hurts sometimes. More than when Trish left.
I’m not really sure what else to say. Except that I love you. But I’m pretty sure you already know that.
Stella’s fingers trembled as she crumpled the letter and tossed it to the counter.
Her loved her?
The big oaf loved her.
For weeks she’d been floating around in a fog. In a limbo, not knowing whether she should be coming or going. Now she knew what she needed to do.
Twenty-One
Brandon rested the butt of the Winchester against his shoulder and took aim. With a slow exhale, he squeezed the trigger and held back a smile of satisfaction as the old whiskey bottle shattered in the quiet air. A flock of birds that were brave enough to endure a Colorado winter scattered out of a nearby tree and disappeared into the overcast sky. He dropped another round into the pipe, cocked the hammer, and moved down the line of bottles he’d set up in the distance. Normally Brandon didn’t go shooting alone. Matt almost always jumped at the opportunity, but he’d opted to spend the afternoon with Adrienne. Brandon hadn’t pushed the issue, nor had he called Cameron. His friend would probably shit a brick if he found out Brandon had gone shooting without him. But he hadn’t been in the mood for company.
To be honest, he hadn’t been in the mood for much of anything for almost two months now. The other day Matt had called him a “grumpy shit who needed to remove the stick from his ass.” And because he knew his kid was right, Brandon had opted not to smack him upside the head for his language. He had been a surly SOB and he couldn’t fault Matt for calling him out. And he was pretty sure Matt, and everyone else, knew the reason for the dark cloud following Brandon around like an incurable disease. But just because he was aware of the reason for his dark mood didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Or think about.
Even though he was thinking about it right now. Or all the time.
Damn it, he’d come up here to get away from his thoughts. To escape the memory of a woman who’d left her imprint on him. On his soul. So deeply that he couldn’t even close his eyes without seeing her. Feeling her lips on his. Hearing the last words she’d spoken to him. It had been during a phone call he’d impulsively made a few weeks ago. Just to hear her voice. Because he was masochistic like that. He’d told himself he was going to stop calling her, to stop obsessing over a woman he couldn’t have. So he’d called her one more time. At least he’d told himself it was the last time.
So far he’d stuck to his guns and hadn’t called her again. And she hadn’t called him. Probably just as well too. Cut the cord and all that. But, damn, he missed her. Like, a lot.
Way more than he should.
And he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d known being away from Stella would be torture, even as he’d told her to go. Doing the right thing sometimes sucked.
At least Stella was happy now. Knowing she was where she belonged, doing what she’d wanted for so long, was the only thing that kept him going.
From his pocket his cell buzzed, but Brandon ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. So he shouldered his rifle again and blew up some more bottles. It felt good, blowing shit up. Since he couldn’t go around picking fights with people, blowing bottles up was the next best thing.
He supposed.
His cell buzzed again. With an irritated groan, he set the gun down and grabbed his cell. Matt’s number showed on the caller ID. Brandon hit the ignore button, then grimaced as a text came through.
Need to talk to you. Stop sulking and call me.
Brandon grit his teeth and sent a reply.
Is it an emergency?
Not exactly, but… Matt replied.
But what? Are you bleeding? Being held at gunpoint?
Matt’s reply was slower to come this time.
Um…No??
Have you been abducted? Is Adrienne unconscious?
Dad, seriously…
Brandon felt his mouth twitch. Was he actually trying to smile?
If it’s none of the above, stop calling me. I’ll be home later.
His phone buzzed one last time.
Fine. But don’t come bitching to me about not trying to warn you.
Warn him? About what? Being a miserable son of a bitch?