The Last Letter(31)

He unscrewed the first lid and took a deep drink, then put the bottle on the counter and handed me the other. I took it out of habit, not because I was thirsty.

“You heading to Denver for Maisie’s surgery in the morning?”

“You always dodge questions?”

A smile flashed across his face and was gone just as fast as it had appeared. “I’m not here for me. I’m here for you.”

Every time he said that, I felt a tiny piece of the mortar in my emotional walls crack. Not enough to bring them down, or even weaken them. But it was there all the same, just waiting to expand and grow. No one had ever stuck around for me, let alone did what Beckett had done.

Not that this was permanent.

“You shouldn’t be. You have a life. No matter what Ryan said in that letter, I’m not your responsibility. No matter how close you two were, you’re very much a stranger. I appreciate every offer you’ve made, and what you’ve gone through to fulfill Ryan’s wish, but this is too much.” My words were harsh, but I kept my voice soft. I didn’t want to hurt him.

“I’m not leaving.” He echoed my tone.

Funny how the conversation was the same as the first time we met, but the connotation was so very different, and that made all the difference. I wasn’t trying to shove Beckett out as much as I was trying to release him.

“You will.” Just like Ryan had. Just like Jeff and Dad. Depending on Beckett would be the most foolish thing I could possibly do.

His jaw flexed, and he looked away for a moment. When his gaze returned, his eyes were a little harder. “I guess you’re just going to have to wait and see.”

Tension stretched the length of the kitchen between us, palpable enough to cut…or maybe to tie us together—the soldier and the woman he was honor bound to watch over.

“I’d better get going.” I left my unopened bottle on the counter and walked past Beckett, through the hallway, and to the front door.

“I know this surgery is going to be tough. On her, on you. Please promise me that you’ll call if you need anything.”

I looked over my shoulder to see him standing in the hallway about five feet behind me. There was determination on his face, but that sorrow was back in his eyes. I owed this man nothing and knew even less about him, other than the fact that Ryan had trusted him.

I opened the door and stepped into the fresh air, wishing it could clear my muddled, overfull brain. But the thought pounded at me mercilessly, until I let it in—Beckett couldn’t keep his promise to Ryan if I didn’t let him. While I was many things, cruel wasn’t one of them.

“I promise.”

It wasn’t a lie, because I had no intention of needing anything from Beckett. Pulling the door shut behind me, I left his cabin and headed back to mine. Now that I knew the truth, I could stop letting the guy invade my thoughts and get back to what I needed to focus on.

Maisie.





Chapter Nine


Beckett


Letter #11

Chaos,

I missed Colt’s Thanksgiving play yesterday. He was the Pilgrim with the line that invited the Native Americans to the feast. He practiced his lines for weeks. Talked about it constantly.

And I missed it.

Maisie wasn’t strong enough to come home after her first session of chemo. Her cell counts dropped, and they wouldn’t let us leave Denver until they rose to safe levels. It happens, at least that’s what I’ve been told by one of the other moms here. Her name is Annie, and she’s been a godsend these last two weeks. Her little boy is here, and I guess you could say she’s taken me under her wing. The learning curve is unforgivably steep.

We’ve been in Denver for almost two weeks now. It’s the best Children’s Hospital in Colorado, and it’s where her oncologist is based, but I found out a few days after we got here that it’s also not in our insurance network. How funny that I never thought about things like that before.

Why can’t I keep my thoughts straight? Even my letters are scattered now, but so is my brain.

So yeah, two weeks, and I missed Colt’s play. Ada went and taped it for me, but it’s not the same. He put on such a brave face when we FaceTimed right after, but I know I let him down. I swore when they were born I’d never let them down, and now no matter what I do, one of them suffers for it.

How is that fair? I see the parents here who take shifts between the mom and dad, or the parents with only one child, and I feel this pang of horrid, selfish longing for what they have—the ability to balance.

I know, in the scheme of things, missing the play isn’t a big deal. It’s the first of many, right? There’s loads coming for him that I can be there for, and Maisie needs me right now. But I can’t help but feel like it’s the first drop in the bucket, and I’m so scared it’s going to eventually fill. I missed his first play when I swore I’d never miss anything, and as the doctors are presenting me with treatment plans, I can see how much she’ll miss. How much he will.

Because I didn’t just miss the first play, Maisie did, too. And instead of being on stage, she was in a hospital bed. The docs tell me her counts are on the rise, and they’re hopeful we can go home tomorrow.

God, I hope they’re right.

I hope you guys are getting some semblance of turkey over there, or at least a little downtime. Rest when you can.