A Brand New Ending

He closed the book. When he went to replace all of the albums in the box, his gaze caught on a piece of folded paper at the bottom. He reached for it.

A letter. In his father’s familiar scrawl. A few short paragraphs filled the lines.

Dear Kyle,

I wanted to say this in person, but you don’t want to talk to me, and I don’t blame you. I would want to move on with my life and forget my past, too, if I were you. I don’t deserve a second thought, but I needed you to know some things.

First, your mom saved you because you were a precious gift—not a sacrifice or loss or anything but pure love. I was an alcoholic when you were born. I know that now, but I didn’t then. Your mother and I fought a lot about my drinking, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. After she died, I drank more. I became someone I couldn’t recognize anymore.

The alcohol turned me into a monster. Sickened my brain. It drained my blood and kept me in a cycle of need. Sometimes, I’d wake up in the morning and swear I’d change. For your sake. And then all day I’d dream about the bottle and how bad I needed it, and it became even bigger than you. God forgive me—alcohol was more important than my own son.

Your aunt did her best to help the first few years after you were born, but I drove her away. Soon, my family and friends couldn’t help me anymore. I’ll regret my actions till the day I die. Regret what I did to you.

Being sober is its own form of torture because there’s nowhere left to hide. In spite of me, you succeeded in everything. But most of all, you succeeded in life because of your mother and her capacity to love. That’s the greatest gift she left you.

I told you I burned the pictures because the sight of them killed me with guilt. They are yours now.

I do love you, son. Always have.

Dad

Kyle crumpled the letter between his fingers and bent his head, wondering if some endings were too late to change.

Ophelia clicked off her phone and slumped against the washer in relief. Charlie was going to be fine. He was already feeling better, and all tests had come back negative.

Thank God.

She put the cell phone down and finished folding laundry. The memory of Patrick and Kyle’s exchange in the car tore at her heart. She knew Patrick was trying, but she was also the one who’d witnessed what he’d done to his son on a daily basis.

Forgiveness was such a twisted, thorny thing—easy to preach and hard to practice. But she knew if Kyle could find a way to forgive his dad, he’d heal a broken place inside and be stronger.

She knew, because forgiving Patrick had helped her forgive Kyle and their broken past.

Now there was nothing she wouldn’t do to fight for the only man she’d ever loved.

These past two months, he’d been completely focused on their relationship. They’d learned to love each other all over again, and she was ready to face the future. Yes, he’d be going back to Hollywood soon, but they still had some precious time left together. She intended to use every moment to strengthen and deepen their bond.

She jolted as strong arms closed around her, then relaxed as the familiar scent of cotton, coffee, and man hit her. “Hey, baby,” she murmured. “You need anything?”

“Just you. Always you.” He lifted her up and placed her on top of the dryer, right on a pile of folded towels and sheets.

A giggle escaped her lips, and she snagged her arms around his neck. “Love in the laundry room, huh? That the title of your script?”

He laughed, nipping at the vulnerable curve of her neck. “Brat. I wanted to know if you’d heard anything from the vet yet.”

She ran her fingers over the rough scruff hugging his jaw, loving the ferocious sexiness of his face. “Your dad just called. Charlie’s fine—it was just a virus.”

“That’s great.”

She took in the shadow flickering across his face and tapped on his chin to make him look up. “Then why do you look sad?”

“I opened the box. It was full of photo albums of my mother and father.”

She sucked in her breath. “I thought he’d burned them.”

“He lied. Wrote me a letter, too, trying to explain how his alcoholism changed him. Said he was sorry.”

“I think he is. I think he’s trying desperately to change and have some sort of relationship with you before it’s too late.”

“Isn’t it already? How do you change the past?”

She gazed into his forest-green eyes and told him the truth. “You don’t. But you can change the ending if you want. You can choose to forgive him, to open the door, and see if he respects your heart enough not to hurt you again.”

He leaned his forehead against her chest. She held him for a long time, giving him comfort. “What else is bothering you?”

Before he spoke the words, she sensed what he needed to tell her.

Their path was careening to a familiar fork in the road, but this time, she had to be strong and trust him. They’d come too far and given too much to each other to close down over what-ifs. These past two months had taught her something precious.

The power of second chances.

“I have to leave soon.” He lifted his head. Pain carved out the angles of his face. “My agent called two days ago. Alan Bell is interested in reading my screenplay.”

Her eyes widened. “The director who won the Academy Award with Meryl Streep?”

“Yes. He spoke with Robbie, and he wants me to meet with him. Bell’s going overseas soon, so I need to finish the screenplay and send it . . . by tomorrow.” Regret flickered in his eyes. “I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry, baby. I just didn’t want to think about having to cut our time short.”

Even with her newfound resolution to trust him, the familiar dread rose up, choking her throat. She tried to keep her face and voice calm. “When do you have to leave?”

His pause told her everything. “Monday.”

Raw emotion attacked her from all sides. She dragged in an unsteady breath. “I see. That’s too bad. Chloe’s father is joining us for dinner next Sunday, and I really wanted you to meet him.”

“I know.”

“Oh, and I bought tickets to that spring dance they’re holding in town. I thought it would be fun for us to go to, but I’ll just sell my tickets. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ophelia, I’m coming back.” He leaned forward and cupped her cheeks, his breath rushing against her lips. “I know I sprung this on you last minute, and it’s hard to believe me when this is the same scenario that tore us apart the first time, but I’m coming back. I won’t sacrifice anything for you again. I love you.”

Her eyes stung. She hated herself for being so emotional. He’d never hidden the fact that he’d eventually have to leave. She just hadn’t prepared herself for it yet. She forced a smile to her lips. “I know. Sorry. You just surprised me.”

“I’m going to take this meeting. If Bell likes what I wrote, we’ll put a team together. I have a clear vision of what I want this time, and I’m not going to compromise. No more crazy rewrites night and day. I’ll make sure I don’t have to be on set so I can work from the inn. It won’t be like before. I don’t have to prove myself any longer. I choose you. Okay?”

She swallowed back the doubt and nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “I just need you to promise me something.”