Possessive. Protective. It’s a glint that says I’m his, no one else’s, and he’ll fight for me until everyone knows it. It tells me he’s not letting me go after everything we’ve been through, after how long we’ve been apart already.
And the shine of worry there… It tells me he’s still scared he’ll lose the fight, and I’ll leave again.
I cup his face, reaching up on my tip toes until the tips of our noses are touching. “I told Jay we’d never be more than friends because of you. Even in New York, thousands of miles away from the Grove, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone other than you. And he gets that. Jay knows how hung up I am on you. He’s the one who watched me fight with myself about being away from you, about not answering your calls. He’s the one who was there when I missed you so bad I could barely breathe through crying. But it was always you. You’re the constant. It didn’t matter how long we’d been apart or how many guys looked my way. It was always, always you.”
I touch my lips to his, knowing no words can really tell him everything. Knowing there’s not enough words to tell him everything.
How could there be? It’s inconceivable to think there’s enough words out there to describe the pain or the guilt I felt about leaving him, or that there’s enough to apologize.
And I know for a fact there’s no words to describe to him how I feel. How I’ve always felt. There’s no words to describe the burning love I have for him.
Reese wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him, and buries his face in my neck. My cheek is flat against his hot skin, and I press my body hard against his.
“It’s a damn good job I plan on coming to New York with you to keep an eye on this Jay guy,” he mumbles into my hair.
My lips twitch into a smile against his skin at his words, and I run my fingers through his hair. “I love you, Reese.”
His grip tightens on me, and his lips kiss the spot just below my ear tenderly. “And I love you, baby.”
~
Sunday passes too quickly – almost as quickly as the ice cream we got after lunch that melted before we could finish – and before I know it I’m back in Reese’s truck, and we’re pulling into my driveway.
I look up at the house. The only light that’s on is the porch light that flickered when we first drove up, and for the first time in years the dark house seems ominous. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what I’m gonna find when I open the door, or maybe it’s because I don’t know what’s gonna happen the next time I come face to face with my mom.
I swallow. Reese reaches over the gearstick to take my hand, and I can feel his eyes burning holes into the side of my head.
“You don’t have to go home yet. You can stay with me tonight, or I’ll drive you to Luce’s. Wherever.”
I want him to take me to his place, but my head shakes in the negative. “I have to go home sooner or later, and as appealing as later sounds right now, it isn’t gonna do me any favors.”
He nods and lets my hand go. I slide from the truck, digging in my purse for my house keys. I unlock the front door and push it open, squeezing through when it catches on a pile of mail. She hasn’t even been home since Friday night…
I sigh, bending down to pick it up. Here I am, I think, flicking through the envelopes. Here I am, playing parent yet again. I take out the bills and rest them on the side, my eyes catching on a large envelope with my name hand-written. My eyes narrow as I run my finger along the flap, the handwriting vaguely familiar to me from ghosts of memories of years past.
I stop, my finger millimeters from the edge of the flap.
Dad’s writing.
Reese hauls my stuff into the hallway, talking about something. I stand still, staring at the envelope. I can barely breathe. For as long as I can remember, the item in my hand is the very thing I craved. The thing I needed and wanted more than the air I breathe every day… But now? Now I’m not so sure.
After all, didn’t I crave the truth about why he left? And look how well that went down…
“Kia?” Reese says my name softly, and I let my eyes slowly move to his. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s a letter,” I reply in a shaky voice.
“I can see that.”
“From my dad.” My voice cracks in the middle of the word “dad,” and I find myself swallowing again.
“Ah.” Reese shuts the door and leans against it. “And you don’t want to open it?”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I think I do. No, I do. But I’m scared. What if it tells me everything I’ve always thought?”
“Even though you know the truth now?”
I nod, my thumb slicing the last of the envelope flap. “I guess I have nothing to lose.”
My shaky fingers pull the letter from the envelope. I let it drop to the floor as I unfold the piece of paper.
Kia,
I’m sorry for the way I showed up on Friday. If I could have, I would have explained more then, but I’m sure you know why I didn’t. I’d tried to call beforehand, but your mom obviously changed the number or she blocked mine.
I’m staying at the Eagle just outside the Grove – you know it. Your gran always used to stay here when she came back to visit before she died. I’m here until next Friday when I have to go back home, and I’d love if you could come and see me. I don’t think it’s wise for me to come back into town for a day or two.
I want us to talk – just me and you – so I can explain everything from my side. I don’t know what your mom has told you over the years, if anything, and if she has, how much of it is true. I hope you’ll give me the chance to tell you my side.
I never stopped missing you, Kia bear, and I regret that I didn’t try harder to keep in contact with you. I was a fool, and I hope one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for not doing everything I could.
If you need me, call the Eagle and leave a message. I’ll check in with Clara on the bar a few times a day so I don’t miss it.
Love always,
Dad
Reese’s fingers swipe across my cheeks, and it’s not until I look at him that I notice I’m crying silently. I drop the letter and let him fold me into his embrace. I need the safety and comfort I can find in his arms, just for a second.
“Luce’s?” he whispers. I nod against his chest and let him pull me back outside to the truck.