The Lies About Truth(64)

Even that sounded more like Trent than Max. No one added to his statement. We drifted away from one another. Drifted into our memories.

Someone touched my shoulder.

“It’s just me,” Max said, jumping back as I jerked.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

“I was coming to ask you the same thing,” he said.

I consulted the park map and yelled to Gina and Gray that Max and I were walking toward Ponce’s landing spot. He slipped his hand into mine.

I wondered if we’d ever walk this way again.

I hoped we would.

I’d forgiven Gina. Gray and I had been civil all day. I could forgive Max if I needed to. Right?

When we were bayside, I chose a bench and sat down cross-legged, facing sideways. The sun-heated wood warmed my skin through my jeans. Max sat across from me. Sweat gathered in the edges of his sideburns. It was pretty damn hot out here, I thought, tugging at the middle of my shirt.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry,” he said, and then clarified. “That I doubted we should all come here. This was a good choice. You’ve wanted to forgive them, and this is a huge step in that direction.”

I couldn’t hold on to the words any longer. “I saw the envelopes in the truck.”

He flipped his hat from backward to forward—his eyes disappearing as he wiggled in his seat. “What envelopes?”

I shuffled through my bag and placed all three in front of him. As if the action itself would demand a response.

Max scooted back into the armrest, picked up the one on top, and read my name. “Sadie Kingston.”

Before I drew a conclusion, someone behind me spoke.

“It wasn’t him.”

My hand found its way to my mouth. Gray.

“I’m really confused,” Max said.

“No, I was really confused,” I said. “Gray—”

“Made another mistake,” he filled in. Gray gave Max a sympathetic look. “She’ll explain it all to you soon, Max. Would you mind maybe giving us a minute alone?”

Max looked as confused as I felt. Still, he stood, respecting Gray’s request.

I grabbed Max’s hand.

He double-squeezed. “It’s okay.” Then he winked, and walked away.

Gray took his place on the bench.

We let our hearts speak one-on-one.

His heart: “I sent them because I didn’t know what else to do. You wouldn’t hear me.”

My heart: “I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t hear you.”

His heart: “I thought you might hear yourself.”

My heart: “I wish you’d signed them.”

His heart: “If you’d known it was me, you would have thrown them away.”

My heart: “I guess you’re right.”

His heart: “Sadie . . . did they help at all?”

My heart: “In the craziest way, yes. The past wasn’t all bad, was it?”

He knew the answer to that question. It was one of the things he’d held on to with an iron grip. It was why he’d sent the envelopes.

My heart: “I’d forgotten that.”

His heart: “Then I’m glad I reminded you.”

More followed. Why he’d chosen those particular memories. How he’d done it. For a laugh, he and Trent had gone through Big during last year’s Pirates and Paintball.

“You always told us they weren’t really secrets. Our curiosity got the better of us,” he said guiltily. “I really liked the stuff you wrote. The little pieces of us you captured.”

He explained how he and Trent had taken phone shots of a few—some he’d loved, like us jumping off the bridge, and a few he’d hated, like me and Trent skinny-dipping.

“Your gun didn’t misfire at Pirates and Paintball, did it?” I asked, remembering that Trent had been on our team last year and Gray had been the one to accidentally shoot him in the face mask.

Gray gave me a solemn nod. “Reading that made me furious. He didn’t have any right to see you naked before I did.”

“Just so you know, he never saw me naked.”

Gray sighed. “It’s not like it would have mattered if he had—not now—but I didn’t know that then. End of the day, I used all the memories, because all those slips added up to the girl I fell in love with, and I missed her.”

I teared up when Gray explained how the idea of sending the letters came to him. He’d been sitting across the street from my house missing me. Worried about me.

“I saw you there,” I told him.

“Probably not. It was early,” he said.

“It was right at sunrise.” The image of him squatting on the curb, underneath my mailbox, sharpened in my mind. “You were wearing a light gray hoodie, the one I used to steal, and jeans.”

I’d written to Max about seeing him.

“I guess you did.” Gray inched closer, and opened his palm. I lay my hand on top of his.

“You were hurting, Sade. Shutting down. Withdrawing. I had to do something to reach you, and it was the best I could think of. Honestly, I was kind of proud of myself for doing something Trent would have done.”

Gray was right. From the very beginning, the letters had reminded me of Trent, which is ultimately why I’d suspected Max instead of Gray. Gray Garrison still had surprises up his sleeve. That made me happy for him and whoever came after me.