The Last Letter(133)

But that flash had been there. I was still capable of feeling something other than…this.

So I took my happy and tucked it away. I’d bring it out again when it wasn’t so dark, when there was room in my soul for it.

And for now, breathing was all I could do.

And it was enough.





Chapter Twenty-Nine


Ella


Ella,

If you’re reading this, it means I can’t see you in January like we planned. I’m so very sorry. I used to say that I couldn’t be scared while I was here, because I had nothing to lose. But the minute I read your first letter, that all changed.

I changed.

If I never told you, then let me say it now. Your words saved me. You reached into the darkness and pulled me out with your kindness and your strength. You did the impossible and touched my soul.

You’re a phenomenal mother. Never doubt it. You’re enough. Those kids are so lucky to have you on their side. No matter what happens with Maisie’s diagnosis, or Colt’s stubbornness, you are the biggest blessing those kids could ever ask for.

Do something for me? Contact my financial manager. His number is at the bottom. I changed my life insurance to Colt and Maisie. Use it to send them to college, or give them the start they need to find their passion. I can’t think of a better use for it.

Want to hear something crazy? I’m in love with you. That’s right. Somewhere between letter number one and twenty or so, I realized I was in love with you. Me, the guy who can’t connect to other humans, fell for the woman he’s never been in the same room with.

So if I’m gone, I want you to remember that. Ella, you are so incredible that you made me fall in love with you with only your words.

Don’t keep your words to yourself. No matter what, find someone who wants to hear them as badly as I do. Then love.

And do me a favor—love enough for the both of us.

All my love,

Beckett Gentry

Call Sign Chaos

…

Three months later.

“Where do you want this?” Beckett asked, holding a box marked “kitchen.”

“Probably the kitchen,” I teased.

“Ha, ha,” he fake-laughed as he carried it past me into the kitchen, setting it with the others.

“How many more do you have out there?” I asked from the great room.

“Just a few of the stragglers in the truck. Why?” He gripped my hips and pulled me to him. “Have plans for me?”

“Maybe,” I said with a slow smile. Somewhere in the last month, I’d stopped faking the small smiles. The bigger ones were still purely for Maisie’s benefit, but the tiny ones? Those were real. Those were mine.

“I like the sound of that.” He lowered his head until our lips met in a kiss. “Would these plans maybe include the shower? Because I had this little bench built into it—”

An icy blast of air hit us as the front door flew open. We turned to see Maisie and Emma fly in, snow covering their hats as they stomped their way to the mudroom giggling.

“That zip line is the best!” Emma said as her boots hit the floor.

“Right? Wait until it’s summer and we can do the other one that goes into the lake!” Maisie added.

The one Beckett had built a few weeks after Colt died. He did a million things like that—keeping Colt with him in his own way. Maisie was right, both of Beckett’s best friends were on that island, and just as Ryan had a part of Beckett that I might never know, so did Colt.

Beckett kissed me again quickly and headed to the garage for another box.

“How about some hot chocolate, girls?” I offered.

“Yes, please!” they both answered at the same time.

I pulled the cocoa down and started, pausing to admire the view of the snow falling on the frozen lake. My heart gave that familiar warning, and I looked away from the island, concentrating on getting mugs for the girls.

I missed Colt every day. Every minute.

But the months had given me just enough time that every second didn’t belong to my grief. And I knew that time span would only grow. It would never leave entirely, but at least I wasn’t capsizing on that ocean of grief with every heartbeat anymore. The waves still came in. Sometimes they were predictable, like the tide. Other times they hit me with the force of a tsunami, sending me tumbling so deep that I felt like I was at day one again, instead of day 105.

The girls ran in, hopping on the barstools I’d bought to slide under the granite expanse. They laughed and talked about the upcoming Christmas play. I poured the cocoa and plopped a few marshmallows in before sliding them across the counter.

“Thanks, Mrs. MacKenzie,” Emma said before taking a sip.

I didn’t correct her about the Mrs., just smiled. “No problem.”

“Thanks, Mom!” Maisie said, sipping at hers.

Beckett walked in with another box and put it with the stack next to the kitchen table. Then he leaned back against the counter with me. “What is this language?” he asked, staring at the girls.

“Girl speak,” I informed him. “They’re discussing the guest list for Emma’s birthday party next month.”

Maisie’s birthday had just passed. She was eight now, older than Colt would ever be. She would grow and mature and thrive, but Colt would stay forever frozen at seven years old. The day had been hard, but Maisie had invited her new best friend.