Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Quit. That wasn’t a random word choice. It was proof that my father knew me all too well.
The one thing I had never even considered quitting in my life was Ramsey Stewart.
“I need to think. Even if I do decide to weather this storm with him, there’s no guarantee that he will too. He was already pushing me away again when Nora told me the truth.”
He shrugged and shot me a knowing smile. “You would be amazed at what a clear conscience will do to a man.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you know that I don’t? And don’t lie to me, old man. I know where you sleep.”
His grin stretched as he lifted his hands in surrender. “I don’t know anything. Though…have you been out to the Wynns’ tree recently?”
Hope hit my veins like a drug and I scrambled from the bed, knocking over half a day’s work in the process. I had no clue what I was even hoping for. It was just such a novelty for me to feel hopeful about anything anymore.
He sauntered toward the door, pausing before he walked out. “I’m sorry I checked out on you for so many years after your mother died. But thank you for allowing me back in and giving me the most incredible years of my life since.”
My throat closed as I looked at him. God, time had changed us all so much.
And that’s when it hit me.
That was what I was hoping for.
That maybe my archnemesis time would change us all again—for the better.
To steal the quote right out of Nora’s mouth, there had to be something good that would come from all of this pain. There just had to be.
Maybe it would be that Nora could finally be free of all the guilt and pain.
Maybe I could let go of the past, forgiving and moving on, so it didn’t follow us into the future.
Maybe Ramsey would see that he was worthy and allow himself to be happy—preferably with me.
Maybe time could release us all from our prisons.
That was the only good that we ever needed.
With renewed hope, the side of my mouth hiked. “Is that your final goodbye, Dad? You’re worried I’m never going to speak to you again after I see what’s at that tree, huh?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Go on. Get out of here.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I felt like a kid again as I cut between houses and jumped over the big ditch. The path had grown over without Ramsey’s and my constant traffic, but I had no problem finding my way.
The tall grass of the uncut hayfield rustled in the warm Georgia air. Time had even changed our old tree too. It was now the proud owner of a wooden rope swing.
Two years after Ramsey had gone to prison, I’d knocked on the Wynns’ door in order to ask them if I could bury Sir Hairy Barkington under our tree. I was in a fit of hysterics after losing that dog to old age. I’d babbled my story with Ramsey and their tree from start to finish as fast as I could talk between the sobs. Honestly, I was shocked Lacey understood me. She hugged me no fewer than seven thousand times, and Mason broke out a shovel and dug Hairy’s final resting place for me. Lacey told me I was welcome to come back any time I’d like. The very next day, that swing magically appeared along with a little wooden cross in the shape of two dog bones.
I’d gotten plenty of use out of that swing over the years. It was my escape when I needed to feel close to Ramsey.
It was where we’d met.
Where we’d fallen in love.
Where we’d spent the happiest days of our lives—and one truly unfortunate night.
Now, I hoped against hope that it was where we’d find our way back to each other.
Disappointment struck me when I reached the tree and found nothing but a dark-blue three-ring binder at the foot. I had no idea what I’d been planning to say to him, but it would have been nice to see him there again—waiting on me like he’d done so many times when we were younger.
I picked up the binder, smiling when I read the simple black sharpie strokes on the front: Things Thea Wants.
And then I gasped, feeling like time had started all over again.
There had to have been at least a hundred plastic page protectors inside that binder, and each one was filled with papers covered in my handwriting.
My letters.
Oh, God, he’d kept them.
I scanned the first one, tracing my fingers over the words. The rush of emotions I’d felt that day hitting me all over again. I’d mailed it as soon as Nora had gotten his address. It was only about three days before I’d received his one and only letter.