Archer's Voice (A Sign of Love Novel)(103)

Last night, after you fell asleep, I couldn't stop thinking about the story you told me about the embroidery pictures your mom used to make. And I've been thinking about that today, too–and I want to believe so badly that what you said is true–that something beautiful can come from all the ugliness and mess–from all the pain, from all the things that have made me who I am. I want to see what's on the other side. But I think in order to do that, I need to be the one to turn it around. I need to be the one to take those steps. I need to be the one to understand how it all comes together, how it all makes sense–what my own picture looks like.
I'm not asking you to wait for me–I'd never be that selfish. But please don't hate me. I never, ever want to hurt you, but I'm no good to you. I'm no good to anyone right now, and I need to learn if maybe I can be.
Please understand. Please know that I love you. Please forgive me.
Archer

My hands were shaking like leaves now and tears were coursing down my cheeks. I let out a sob and dropped the letter, bringing my hand to my mouth.
Sitting under the letter was a set of keys, his phone, and a receipt for dog boarding for an open-ended amount of time. I let out another sob and fell down on the couch–the same couch where Archer had rocked me on his lap after saving me from his uncle's trap, the same couch where he had kissed me for the very first time. I sobbed into the pillow, wanting him back, wanting to hear his footsteps coming through the door behind me so desperately, I felt the longing in every cell of my body. But the house remained silent around me, broken only by the sounds of my choking sobs.


CHAPTER 31

Bree

The days dragged by. My heart felt like it had cracked open and lay heavy in my chest, and the tears constantly threatened. I missed him so badly that most days I felt like I was underwater–looking at the world around me and wondering why I couldn't connect, why everyone and everything was cloudy and distant, inaccessible.
I worried too–what was he doing? Where was he sleeping? How was he communicating with those he needed to communicate with? Was he scared? I tried to turn that off as it was one of the reasons he'd left. He felt like less of a man because he depended on me for so much in the outside world. He hadn't said that exactly, but I knew it was true. He didn't want to feel like I was his mother, but rather that he was my equal, my protector, the one I depended on sometimes.
I understood. It still broke my heart that leaving me was his solution to that problem. Would he come back? When? And when and if he did, would he still love me?
I didn't know. But I'd wait. I'd wait forever if I had to. I had told him I'd never leave him and I wouldn't. I'd be here when he got back.
I worked, I visited Anne who was recovering quickly, I walked along the lake, I kept Archer's house clean and dusted, and I missed him. My days inched along, one rolling blankly into the next.
The town had gossiped fervently for a while and from what I had caught wind of, once it was revealed, no one was too surprised that Archer was Connor's son too. People speculated about whether Archer would come back and demand to take what was rightfully his, or whether he would come back at all. But I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted him.
Surprisingly, after the day of the parade, there had been radio silence from Victoria Hale. I thought distantly that maybe that should be worrisome–she didn't seem like the type of woman to lie down quietly and accept losing–but I was hurting too badly to do anything active about it. Perhaps she just believed that Archer was no threat to her. And maybe he wasn't. My heart ached.
Travis tried to talk to me several times after the day of the parade, but I was short with him and, thankfully, he didn't push it. I didn't hate him, but he had missed so many opportunities to be a better person when it came to Archer. Instead he'd chosen to belittle someone who was already struggling in so many ways. I'd never have any respect for him. He was Archer's brother in name only.
Fall turned to winter. The vibrantly colored leaves withered and fell off the trees, the temperature dropped dramatically, and the lake froze over.
One day in late November, several weeks after Archer had left, Maggie came up to me where I was restocking behind the counter and put her hand on my shoulder. "You planning on going home for Thanksgiving, Bree honey?"
I stood up and shook my head. "No. I'm staying here."
Maggie looked at me sadly. "Honey, if he comes back while you're gone, I'll call you."
I shook my head more vehemently. "No, I need to be here if he comes back."
"Okay, honey, okay," she'd said. "Well, then you're coming to our house for Thanksgiving. Our daughter and her family will be in town. And Anne and her sister are coming over too. We'll have a real nice time."