Coming Home(193)

Leah shrugged. “I’m okay.”

Jake nodded, looking out the windshield. “And no one’s been bothering you?”

She smiled slowly. “Very smooth, Jake. Like greased ice.”

He turned to look at her. “Greased ice?” he asked, fighting a smile.

Leah lifted one shoulder, laughing to herself.

“Seriously, though. Has he been around? Has he called?”

“No, he hasn’t,” she said. “And I told you I’d let you know if he did.”

Jake nodded. “I know…I just…”

“No, I get it,” she said. “Danny asked you to check in.”

“Asked?” he said with his brow lifted. “No, Danny didn’t ask. He mandated. Even back in the beginning, when he was being a complete douche-nozzle.” He shook his head before his expression turned serious again. “I promised him I’d look out for you, Leah.”

She swallowed, dropping her eyes to her lap. “I know,” she said softly. “Sorry for giving you shit.”

“I like when you give me shit,” he said, reaching over and tugging lightly on the end of her hair. “It means the fire in you ain’t out yet.”

Leah smiled. “Isn’t.”

“Huh?”

“The fire in me isn’t out yet.”

“Yeah, okay. Save it for the classroom, toots.”

Leah laughed, and he winked at her before he opened the door and got out of the car. She met him around the front, reaching to take the keys he offered her. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Call me if you need anything, and bring this down to us as soon as you can,” he said, patting the hood.

“I will,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks, Jake.”

Leah stood there and watched Jake get into his car, waving to him as he pulled out of the parking space before she turned toward her mailbox. As soon as she opened the little door, it felt like her stomach turned inside out. She reached in and pulled out the stack of envelopes, completely disregarding the bills and credit card offers as she shuffled his envelope, the one she’d recognize anywhere, to the top.

Leah jogged up the path to her apartment, fumbling with her keys as she unlocked the door, trying to ignore the little ember of anxiety hidden just behind her eagerness. As soon as she was inside, she tossed the other envelopes on the table, sending a few skidding off the other side and onto the floor as she continued into the living room, opening his letter as she went.

Despite the fact that Danny had access to e-mail, he had told her early on that he preferred handwritten letters. Even though e-mail was much faster, he was only allowed to access the system once a day, whereas a letter was something he could keep with him, something he could read whenever he wanted, as many times as he wanted. In one of his letters to Leah, he had told her he’d reread his favorites so many times, he could practically recite them from memory.

She plopped onto the couch and unfolded the paper, smiling as she saw his familiar angled handwriting.

Leah,

It’s two in the morning, and you’re all I can think about. I wish I could talk to you right now, because I have so much to say, and I’d really rather do it in person, but I know I won’t be able to wait until next week.

Me and Troy were talking today, and he told me what happened with him and his girl. Apparently after his fifth month here, she started missing visitation days left and right, claiming that the drive was too far and that she didn’t have the gas money to come every week. But then a few weeks after that, she started missing his calls too. She’d say she got held up at work, or stuck in traffic, or was helping a friend and couldn’t get to her phone. Troy said he wanted to believe her in the beginning, but I guess over the last sixth months, it’s only gotten worse. He said every now and then he’ll write to her and if he’s lucky, she’ll respond or he’ll get her on the phone. But she’s basically washed her hands of him. And I’m listening to this guy spill his guts, feeling like the biggest piece of shit on the planet, because all I could think about the entire time was how lucky I am. Because she gave up on him, and you never even entertained the idea of giving up on me. Not in the beginning, when my behavior was unpredictable and asinine, not when you found out I was going away, and not even when I was stupid enough to push you away myself. You always fought for me—for us. Always.