Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(115)

“Nothing.” I put my hand on his chest. He had the instant reaction to reach up and cover mine with his own. I wanted this. I wanted to be with him. I just had to stop overthinking it.

“Doesn’t look like nothing. It seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“It’s nothing, not really.”

“Not really?”

I rested my head against his chest. I thought back to my session with Dr. Carr. Malcolm wrapped his arms around me. My safe place.

“What’s wrong?”

I shrugged.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

I slid my arms up around his neck. “Not exactly.”

“O…kay”

“It’s not about not wanting to be with you. This is a total me thing.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head and pulled away. “We have packing to do.”

“Ginger.”

“I’m good, really. Did you get boxes?”

“Yeah, I did. I’ll go grab them.”





Chapter 58


Malcolm





I grabbed the boxes and tape from the back of my truck.

Ginger met me at the door, and took a few of them from the stack I carried. “How was Shawn?”

“Good. Your parents offered to come help if we needed them.”

“They are helping. This would take much longer if we had to chase him around.”

“True. So where do you want to start?”

“Uh…I’ll start in the kitchen since I need to figure out what I want to take. Can you take your boxes up to my room?”

I nodded and headed off in that direction. Whatever was on her mind, she seemed to have put it behind her. I knew better than to push, but her attitude made me worry she wasn’t as ready for this step as she’d said. I just had to hope that not questioning her wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass later.

I leaned the boxes up against her dresser, trying to figure out where to start first. I walked into her closet to start getting down the things on her shelf. The top shoe box wobbled then fell to the floor. Off came the top and envelopes spilled out. I sat the other boxes down then started picking up the envelopes. Each one was sealed and had names on them. One for her parents, Macy, Shawn, and me.

Grabbing them up, I walked over to take a seat on her bed. I placed all the others back in the shoe box but held onto the one addressed to me. Reasons for these bombarded me. Somewhere deep in my gut, one reason stood out. Flipping it over, I started to open it but stopped. If this letter was what I thought it was, did I really want to know? Did I want to read her goodbye? As I ripped it open, I knew the answer was yes. Whether it was some sort of morbid curiosity or a genuine need to know, I couldn't be sure.

Three pages. She’d written me a three-page letter. I noticed them moving and realized my hands were shaking. I folded the pages back and set them on the bed. My gaze went to the box with the other letters. She’d really thought through her actions. Took the time to write letters to everyone.

I took a breath and picked my letter up again. I began to read. With each new word, my chest ached a little bit more. Reading those words, knowing that she had those feelings—the desire to die—it was too much.

A gasp made me look up. Ginger stood in the doorway, face ashen, eyes trained on the papers in my hands. Neither of us spoke. I kept my eyes on her as I folded the letter and returned it to its envelope.

“You weren’t supposed to read that.” Her voice sounded raspy.

“It had my name on it.”

She walked over. I noticed the slight tremble in her hand when she reached for my letter. She picked it up and put it back into the shoe box. I wrapped my hand around her wrist.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Malcolm.”

Ginger pulled her arm free, picked up the box, and exited the room. I remained on the bed trying to wrap my head around things. I knew she’d been through a lot, but the fact that man had damaged her to the point she thought ending her life was the only way, I couldn’t fathom it. Even more importantly, how could we have missed that things were that bad for her? We’d all been so blind. So fucking caught up in what we wanted for her, that we ignored how much pain she’d really been in. She’d been correct, we wanted her better, and that’s what she gave us.

I ran my hands down my face then through my hair before pushing off the bed in search of Ginger. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, staring into the fireplace. The smell of burnt paper filled the air. Ginger’s focus remained on the flames before her. The shoebox and letters it contained were now blackened remnants.

I walked up and circled my arms around her. I stood behind her not speaking, but watching the flames as she did.

“I wish you hadn’t read the letter.”

“I’m glad I did.”

“Why? Why would you want to know that?”

I turned her to face me. Bringing my hands up, I held on to either side of her face and leaned down for a soft kiss.

“You’re here. Not gonna lie, reading that, knowing what it was, that wasn’t easy.” I ran my knuckles up the side of her cheek. “But in the end, you’re here.”

Ginger pulled away, turning to stare at that creepy painting above the fireplace.