The Last Letter (Page 14)

“If Ryan wanted so badly to be here, he could have gotten out when he was up for reenlistment. But he didn’t. Because guys like Ryan—like you—don’t stay home, don’t put down roots, don’t stay, period. I can accept that I’m your…mission, or whatever, for the time being, but don’t act like you’re not temporary.”

I fought every instinct in my body that screamed to declare differently, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me, and I’m not sure I would have, either. It was only a matter of time before she realized who I really was and what I’d done. And my feelings for her wouldn’t buffer that fallout. A nuclear shelter couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly after a few moments of silence passed between us. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, if you were really that close to Ryan. And you must have been to uproot your entire life to come here.”

“I thought I didn’t have roots,” I teased.

A tiny smile ghosted across her face, but it was sad. “Like I said, I’m sorry. But imagine if I showed up in…wherever it was you guys were, and I knew everything about you, and you didn’t know the first thing about me. Unsettling, right?”

A raw, grating pain scraped across me, because she did know everything about me. In a way. I’d left out the physical details of my life while I basically pulled my soul out of my body and put it on paper for her. She might not have known what I was, but she knew who I was, more than anyone else on the planet. I’d let her in and then shut myself out, and I missed her with a ferocity that was terrifying.

“Yeah, I can see how that would be a ten on the weird scale.”

“Thank you. And really, it’s an eleven.” She headed back up the path to her Tahoe, where Colt had the back hatch open and was waiting with his quad.

This apparently wasn’t the first time he’d been grounded from it if he was that aware of the routine.

“I got it, Colt,” I told him. Then I lifted it into the back of the SUV, thankful there was a rubber lining in the back. When I turned around, Ella was staring at me, her mouth slightly agape. Well, staring at my arms. I made a mental note to get a gym membership. I liked that look.

“Anything else?” I asked, shutting the hatch.

She shook her head quickly. “Nope. Nothing. Thanks for…you know…”

“Not being a psycho kidnapper?”

“Something like that.” A blush stole across her cheeks.

“I was serious about the background check. If you would feel more comfortable—”

“No, of course not. I don’t make a habit of background checking my guests, and I’m not going to start now.”

“You should,” I muttered. If I had been a psycho kidnapper, Colt would be dead. Actually, these woods were secluded enough that she could harbor a serial killer and never know.

She rolled her eyes at me and climbed up into the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Mr. Gentry?” Colt called from the back seat.

Ella rolled down the window, and I leaned in to see him strapped into a tall, thin car seat that sat beside an empty one.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve decided that, since you’re Uncle Ryan’s brother, that makes you family.” He said it with the seriousness of an adult.

“Have you?” My voice softened. The kid didn’t know what he was offering, or how much it meant to me, because he’d always had a family. It was simply a given. “Well, thank you.”

I met Ella’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and she let out a small sigh of defeat.

“And you’re not crazy,” he added. “So I guess you can stay.”

I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. This kid was amazing. “Thank you for your approval, Colt.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a shrug.

I stepped back, and Ella closed her door, then leaned out her open window. “Don’t forget that there are meals in the main house. Ada said that she hasn’t seen you there, and she gets nosy.”

“Noted. I didn’t want to bring Havoc in with Maisie there, too.” I wasn’t an expert on kids with cancer, but I knew enough that she didn’t need me bringing extra dander in.

“Oh, that’s…really thoughtful of you. But you’re okay. After she went neutropenic the first time—that’s when—”

“Her white cells drop to where she’s susceptible to every infection known to man?” I finished.

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

“I read about neuroblastoma. A lot.”

“For Ryan?”

For you.

“Yeah, something like that.”

She ripped her gaze away from mine, like she felt our connection, too. But where I embraced the intensity, she apparently did not. “Right. Well, after that, I moved the kids out of the residence wing and into a cabin that we could keep—”

“Wrapped up like a bubble,” Colt called out from the back seat.

“Pretty much,” Ella admitted with a shrug. “We’re actually your neighbors. If you walk about two hundred yards that way, you’ll find us.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Then I guess you will.”

They drove up the wide path next to my cabin. There must have been a small boat launch here or something to have a path like that cleared.

Havoc sat back on her haunches and cocked her head at me.

“I think that went better, don’t you?” I asked. Her tail thumped in agreement. “Yeah. Now let’s go find a job before Colt takes away our grown-up card.”

Three hours later I was officially the newest part-time member of Telluride Mountain Rescue. Scratch that. Havoc was. She was all the talent, anyway.

Chapter Eight

Ella

Letter #9

Ella,

First off, I’m speechless. I can’t possibly find adequate words to express my sadness at Maisie’s diagnosis, or my awe at how you’re handling it.

Jeff is an ass. Sorry, I’m sure he must have some redeeming qualities, because at one time you felt him worthy enough to give him your heart and even marry him, but he is. And I say is in the present tense on purpose, because he’s still making you feel like you’re not enough when you prove over and over again that you are.

You are enough, Ella. You’re more than enough. I’ve never met a woman who has your strength, your determination, your absolute loyalty to your kids. So I included a little something. Take it out when you need it to remind yourself that you can do this, because I know with absolute certainty that you can.

And yeah, I know you’re a good mom without ever having “met” you. Mostly it’s because I know what it’s like to have a bad one, and you are anything but that.

What do you need? I can’t bring dinner by, but I can order a mean pizza. Is there anything I can have shipped to you? I know that what you probably need is the support of people, and in that arena, my hands are tied, and I’m sorry. I know I can’t do much through these letters, but if I could, I’d be there, or I’d send your brother home to you.

You’re enough, Ella.

~ Chaos

…

I rolled my neck, trying to dislodge the seemingly permanent knot that had formed between my shoulder blades. Hours hunched over spreadsheets and bills did that to a girl.

I stifled a yawn and checked out the clock. Yeah, eight thirty p.m. was way too late to hit up the coffee. I’d be awake until dawn.

So iced tea it was. I took a sip from my glass and went back to sorting bills. We were in trouble, and it was the kind I didn’t know how to get myself out of. The kind that was going to really hit home when Maisie had surgery in three days.

Ada popped her head into the makeshift office we’d put together in the cabin. “I left some muffins for the morning. Is there anything else you need?”

I forced a smile and shook my head. “Nope. Thank you, Ada.”

“You’re family, dear. No need to thank me.” She gave me an ultra-hard once-over and then pulled out the armchair from where I’d shoved it against the wall, sinking into it and placing her hands in her lap.

That was code for Ada-wasn’t-letting-up.

Crap.

“Tell me. And don’t you dare hold back.”

I relaxed in my office chair and almost lied. But the woman mom-stared me, which was pretty much the equivalent of a detective sweating you out under a light.

“What?” I asked, fidgeting with my pen.

“Tell me.”

I didn’t want to. Voicing the concern to someone else meant I couldn’t handle it myself, meant that it was all too real.

“I think I might be a little financially strained.” I was already there emotionally, physically, and mentally, so what did it matter to add one more thing to the ever-growing pile? You can’t over-drown a person. Once they’re underwater it doesn’t matter how much is above them if they can’t swim upward.

“How strained? You know, Larry and I have a little tucked aside.”

“Absolutely not.” They’d worked with my grandmother all their lives, given everything they had to our family, our property. I wasn’t taking a dime from them.

“How strained?” she repeated. “Like newborn twins strained?”

Ah, the good old days while I was trying to feed them, clothe them, and pay for online courses while working here at Solitude. Good times.

“Worse.”

“How much worse?” There wasn’t a line in the woman’s body that led me to believe that she was even remotely stressed.

“I think I might go broke,” I whispered. “I bet everything on the renovations.”

“And you put us on the map. Our reservations are fully booked starting right around Memorial Day. You know this is just the off-season. No one wants to trudge through the spring sludge. It’s snow or pure sunshine to make a difference around here.”

“I know.” I glanced at the stack of bills and shoved another smile forward. Grandma had never mortgaged the property, and even though I’d felt like I was somehow betraying her by doing it, we’d transformed Solitude. “And it’s going to pay off. We knew it would be a sacrifice for a few years to pay that mortgage, but with the renovations and constructing the five new cabins this year, it’s the best business decision we could have made. But I cut a personal corner this year with the insurance. I figured the kids never got sick, and even if they did, the costs were relatively low at the doctor’s, so I moved us to the program that had the lowest premium.”