The Last Letter(25)

But I knew what it was, and she didn’t.

“You’re getting out because…” Her head tilted, so much like Colt’s.

“You know why.”

She stepped toward me unconsciously, her eyes scanning mine, searching for something that I was desperate to hand over but couldn’t. “You said you left because your best friend died. You got out for Ryan,” she concluded.

“For you.” The moment it was out of my mouth I wanted to suck it back in, erase the last five seconds in a do-over. “Because of what he asked,” I tried to clarify, but the damage was done.

She retreated, her shoulders tense. Those walls came back up, cramming miles of distance in the few feet that separated us.

“I think we’ve bothered you enough today. Colt, say thank you to Mr. Gentry for not being a psycho kidnapper, and let’s go.”

“Thank you for not being a psycho kidnapper,” he repeated.

“Anytime, bud. Like I said, if it’s okay with your mom, you’re welcome to come see Havoc again. She likes you.” And it would probably do a little good to get him out of the house every now and then.

Hope lit up his face like Christmas morning. “Please, Mom? Please?”

“Seriously? You’re already grounded from your quad for this stunt, and now you’d like privileges to come spend time with a stranger?”

His gaze flickered sorrowfully to his quad, then back to Ella. “He’s not really a stranger, though. If Uncle Ryan was his brother, he’s kinda family.”

And there went my heart for the third flop.

Family was a word I didn’t use and didn’t have. Family meant commitment, people whom you depended on—who could depend on you. Family was an utterly foreign concept, even with the unique brotherhood within our unit.

“We’ll talk about this later, Colt,” Ella said, rubbing the soft skin between her eyes.

“Later you’re leaving!”

Well, if that didn’t abruptly change the mood.

“I’m not leaving until the day after tomorrow. Now, get in the car, Colt. We’ll—”

“Okay!” He gave Havoc another pat and then stomped off toward the truck.

“He seems a lot older than six.”

“Yeah. Until this year, the twins were only really ever around adults. A few kids here and there with guests, but they’re both basically six going on sixteen. I probably shouldn’t have sheltered them so much, but…” She shrugged.

I’m ridiculously overprotective of them, but I recognize it. Letter number one.

“They definitely give their teacher a run for her money. I’m sorry you had to see that.” She stared off at the island. “It’s been a rough few months…losing Ryan, and everything with Maisie…”

“How are her treatments?” I asked, stepping my toe into waters I had no right to.

Her head snapped toward me. “You know.”

“Ryan.” Mac and I had talked about it at length, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.

She shook her head in exasperation and started walking back to the truck.

“Ella,” I called after her, quickly catching up. After almost two weeks of running six miles in the morning, I was finally adjusted to the altitude. Not that we hadn’t been dropped into similar elevations in Afghanistan, but I’d been at sea level for two months before getting out here.

“You know what?” she fired back, spinning to face me.

“Whoa!” I gripped her shoulders to keep from smacking into her, then abruptly dropped my hands. That was twice I’d touched her since I’d been here, and the contact was too much and not enough.

“I hate that you know things about me. I hate that you probably knew Colt was my son, that you know about Maisie’s diagnosis. You’re a stranger who is privy to intimate details about my life because of my brother, and that’s not fair.”

“I can’t change that. I’m not sure I would even if I could, because that’s the reason I’m here.”

“The reason you’re here is buried out on that island!”

In so many ways.

“We can go round and round. But I’m not leaving. So I will make you this offer. You can ask me any questions you want”—I held up my finger when she opened her mouth, knowing she’d ask about Mac’s death again—“that I’m allowed to answer, and I’ll tell you anything I can about me. You’re right. It’s not fair that I know so much. It’s incredibly creepy for me to know about your kids, your life…you. But Mac loved you, and he talked about you all the time. You, them, this place was the home he so badly wanted to come back to, and when he talked about you, it was like he had this tiny moment of reprieve from the hell we were living. So, I’m incredibly sorry that your privacy has been violated. You have no clue how sorry I am, but I can’t go back in time and ask him not to overshare, and if I had that magical time button, I’d use it for something far better, like saving his life. Because he should be here. Not me. But I’m the one he sent, and I’m staying.” I clenched my jaw. What was it about this woman that killed whatever semblance of a filter I had? Whether it was reading her letters, or staring into her eyes, she had a power over me that was worse than a bottle of tequila for loosening my tongue. She made me want to tell her everything, and that was dangerous to both of us.