The Last Letter(66)

Or was there?

I hit the brakes as I passed Ella’s cabin.

Her insurance wouldn’t pay for the treatments that could save Maisie’s life.

But I’d read over every scrap of information online about that hospital, and my insurance would.

I threw the truck into reverse and then turned down Ella’s drive. I was out of the truck before the engine died, taking her steps two at a time and pounding on her door before my brain kicked in with every reason she’d say no, knowing I’d have to convince her to say yes.

“Beckett?” Ella asked as she opened the front door. She was in jeans and a long-sleeve tee, her hair in a thick side braid that made me want to grab ahold of it while I kissed her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry for the drop-by. Do you have a second?”

“Sure, come on in.”

“Not where the kids can hear,” I said softly, tucking my thumbs into my pockets.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, but she stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. “Okay, what’s up?”

“Your insurance won’t pay for the MIBG therapy, or the hospital she needs, or the stem cell transplant.”

“That’s right.” She folded her arms under her breasts and looked up at me, those blue eyes inquisitive but trusting.

“She has to have it, right? Or she’ll die?”

“Beckett, what is this about?”

“Will she die without it?” I repeated, my words a little sharper than I’d ever used with Ella.

“Yes,” she whispered.

I nodded to myself, turning around and pacing the length of the porch while Ella followed.

“Beckett!” she snapped.

I turned around and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Your insurance won’t pay for it—”

“Right, we already covered that.”

“But mine will.”

“Okay?” She blinked at me, her forehead puckering.

“Ella, marry me.”





Chapter Fifteen


Ella


Letter #15

Ella,

We lost someone today.

You’d think I’d be used to it after all this time, even callous toward it. A few years ago I was. I have no idea what’s changed lately, but now it feels like every loss is exponentially harder than the last.

Or maybe they’re the same, but I’m different.

More angry.

It’s hard to describe, but I’m somehow more aware now of my disconnection, my inability to forge emotional bonds outside of a few close friends. That small list includes you.

How can I be so connected to someone I’ve never laid eyes on, yet not the majority of the guys around me? Is it that you’re safer through paper because you’re not standing in front of me? Less of a threat, maybe?

I wish I knew.

I wish I had the words for this guy’s wife, his kids. I wish I could take it away for them, take his place. Why does the world take the people who are loved, ripping holes in the fabric of other people’s souls, while I’m allowed to skate by unscathed? Where is the justice in such a random system, and if there’s no justice, then why are we here?

I feel that same restless urge taking over again, to accomplish the mission and move on. Check the box, pull up the stakes, and know we made a difference.

I’m just not sure what that difference is anymore.

Tell me something real. Tell me what it feels like to live in the same place your whole life. Is it stifling to have such deep roots? Or does it let you sway instead of break when the winds come? I’ve gone with the wind for so long that I honestly can’t imagine it.

Thank you for letting me unload on you. I promise I won’t be such a downer next time.

~ Chaos

…

“I’m sorry?” I asked, staring at Beckett like he had two heads.

“What did you just say?” There was no way he’d said what I heard.

“Marry me.”

Or maybe he did say it.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe.” He leaned back against the porch railing but didn’t cross his arms in front of his chest like he did when his stubborn switch was triggered. Instead he grasped either side of the railing, leaving his torso unprotected. Vulnerable. “But it would work. On paper, at least.”

“I don’t… I can’t… I’m speechless.”

“Good, that will give me a chance to convince you.”

Oh my God, he was serious.

“If you marry me, the kids are my dependents. I can take care of them.”

“You want to marry me to take care of my kids.” I said it slowly, certain I had somehow heard it wrong.

“Yes.”

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to get a word—any word—past my lips. I just couldn’t think of any.

“What do you think?”

“We’re not even dating! And you…you want to get married?”

Havoc came trotting up to the porch, but she didn’t go to Beckett. She sat next to me, like she’d sensed her handler had lost his fool mind.

“Not in the romantic sense!” He raked a hand over his face. “I suck at explaining this.”