Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(80)

Brock nodded.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“Out back,” Brock told him.

Cade nodded, gave one look to his daughter then went in search for his wife.

“You call him?” I asked after we had bathed in silence for a moment.

Brock nodded. “Figured he’d have my balls if he found out his old lady was going through this shit and I didn’t tell him right away.”

I laughed sharply. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

His gaze softened. “You okay, Sparky?” he asked.

I met his eyes, registered the tender look of concern in them, the love. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t have his sympathy, his understanding for my grief.

I stood quickly.

“I’ve got to go,” I declared, snatching my keys off the coffee table.

Brock’s face turned hard. “What the f*ck do you mean? You’re not going anywhere.” He stepped forward, but thanks to the baby in his arms he couldn’t exactly tackle me.

I sidestepped away from him, darting toward the door. “I’ve just got to go, okay? I need some air. Tell Gwen to call if she needs me,” I said before turning my back and almost sprinting out the door.

I started hyperventilating five minutes after I left my house. Tears blurred my vision after ten. I somehow made it up to the overlook of the town. The place where a sharp drop held the ocean on one side and the town of Amber on the other. I let out a breath of relief as I turned the car off, as I realized I was away from it. Above it all.

The letter was sitting in the passenger seat staring at me. Yes, I know inanimate objects cannot stare, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel its gaze. That didn’t mean I could hardly breathe thanks to the fact it took up all of the air in the car.

How long I stared at it I don’t know. Minutes, hours, seconds. I touched it with shaky hands and slowly pulled out the paper from its dirty and crumpled envelope.

Deep breath, Amy, you can do this.



Ames,

I’m gonna start with the whole “if you’re reading this it means I’m dead” intro. It’s cliché as shit, but how else do you start one of these things? Fuck. I really hope you’re not reading this. I pray that one day when I get back from deployment and I’m in bed with you we can burn this motherf*cker together. But the best laid plans and all that.

So if you’re reading this, I’m sorry, baby. I’m so f*ckin sorry I left you. Trust me, it had to be something big and bad to rip me away from the prospect of us. From you. I would have fought to my last breath against that reaper. Know that. In my last breaths, my last moments on this earth it would have been your face I saw. Your smile, your hair, the way you look after I kiss you. It would be your laugh in my ears, the sound you make when you’re frustrated, the first time you said you loved me. I would not have died happy, I tell you that. I woulda been pissed as hell. But I would have had those memories of you to make it that bit easier.

I’m sorry I didn’t quit when you asked me to. I’m so sorry I hurt you, sweetheart. The only regret I have in this world is not getting out of this place sooner. Of not doing it when you loved me. Only me. When the way you looked at me made me feel ten feet tall and the luckiest son of a bitch on this planet. But I didn’t. That’s on me. The hurt I put you through, that’s on me.

You falling in love with someone else, that’s on me too. Shit, that’s f*cking hard to write. But it’s gotta be said. Cause I know you. I know you’re sitting there feeling guilty as f*ck for letting someone else in, for loving someone else, even now that I’m gone and everyone’s expecting you to be mourning me for life. I’m telling you right now, cut that shit out. If I am gone, don’t you f*cking dare screw up your chance at happiness cause of the shit swirling in that pretty head of yours. If you are, you can bet I’m up in heaven furious with you for that.

The thought of you with another man makes me want to punch a cinder brick wall. The thought of you unhappy makes me want to rip my own heart out. No matter what, I want you to be happy. When I come back to you I hope to god I can win you back. I hope you still look at me like I’m ten feet tall. But if you don’t, if you love this other guy more, if he’s what you want, I won’t stand in your way. I’ll fight for you, babe. To the end. But I’m also man enough to admit when I’ve lost.

Cause at the end of the day, that’s what love is…loving someone enough to let them go.

So babe, if you are reading this, let me go. Don’t let shit get in the way. Be happy.

Know I loved you until the moment I took my last breath.

Always and forever, babe.



I don’t know how many times I read it. I read it until it was too dark to see the letters on the page. Until my tears had made all the ink run.

Fuck! Fuck him! Fuck him for speaking to me from the goddamn grave. Fuck him ripping open every wound that was healing. Just f*ck.

He knew. He knew I loved Brock. He knew there was a chance that he wouldn’t be coming home to me, and he wrote that anyway. My hands were shaking and I felt like throwing up. Where did I go from here? I couldn’t run into one man’s arms after reading another man’s words telling me he loved me until his last breath, no matter what his f*cking letter said.

A bright light distracted me. I realized it was my phone. I picked it up to see I had a zillion missed calls.