Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Colt let go of my hand as we walked into the room. He turned in a circle while exhaling a long breath.
“Where do we even start?”
“His clothes? I brought up some large black bags your mother gave me for those. She mentioned taking them to the orphanage.”
Colt nodded. “Makes sense to put the clothes in bags.”
He walked over to Grady’s small closet and opened it. When he didn’t move, I stepped over to stand next to him.
“Do you want me to do this?”
Turning to look at him, I saw he was smiling.
“He had the worst taste in clothes.”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “He really did.”
“Fuck, I miss him.”
Sliding my arm around his waist, I rested my head on his arm. “I know. I miss him, too.”
We stood there for a few moments before Colt nodded his head. “I’ll get to work on the closet. Do you mind cleaning out the dresser? After the clothes, we can go through his personal items. It still feels a bit…”
“Intrusive?”
He looked at me. “Yeah. Doesn’t it?”
“It does, yes. But it’s something we need to do.”
“Yeah,” he replied, as he reached in and grabbed a handful of shirts. He removed the hangers, tossing them into a pile on the floor, then he folded the clothes before placing them in one of the large bags.
At the long and low dresser, I smiled as I reached out and picked up a frame. It held a photo of Grady and Colt sitting on the tailgate of Colt’s old Ford F-150. They had their arms around each other as they smiled into the camera. The photo was taken by me, a year or so before Grady’s death.
Setting the photo down, I picked up another. It was a family Christmas photo. I ran my finger over Grady’s handsome face. It would be his last Christmas, but none of us knew that at the time. I held the photo to my chest, closed my eyes, and focused on keeping the tears at bay. No wonder Lynn and Jacob didn’t ever want to come into the room.
I set the frame down and pulled open the top right drawer.
“I cannot believe how many T-shirts Grady had,” Colt said. “He has this same one in five different colors. And who hangs up T-shirts?”
I laughed. “Grady did.”
Colt returned my laugh with one of his own.
I reached into the drawer and pulled out a white envelope that read “Granby Ophthalmologist Center.” Under the envelope was a small leather book. My hand started to shake as I set the envelope down and stared at the brown book, a memory popping into my head.
“Ensley, I need you to listen to me.”
I looked up from where I was attempting to reshoe a stubborn horse. “I’m listening the best I can, Grady.”
“In my bedroom, I have a brown leather journal.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve written down some private information in there that I don’t want anyone to see, if anything happens to me.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
“Ensley! I really need you to listen!”
Stopping what I was doing, I straightened. “Grady, I heard you. You’re just telling me where your journal is. Anyway, isn’t that something Colt should do? Hide your dirty little secrets and fantasies from your parents?”
He rolled his eyes. “I wanted to tell you.”
“That you have a journal…”
“Yes.”
“I got it. Brown journal, in your bedroom. Get it before your mother does.”
“I keep it in my desk.”
Confused, I slowly shook my head. “Grady, why are you telling me this? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, of course. But I have some personal stuff in there about…girls. Sex. Things like that. If I ever get in an accident, you cannot let my mother find it.”
I started to laugh. “You write about your sexual encounters in your journal? That’s so cute!”
Rolling his eyes once again, he said, “Ensley, there was a particular night that I really don’t want anyone to know about.”
“The threesome night?”
His mouth fell open. “How did you know about that?”
“Um, because you called me to come pick you up and take you home. Don’t you remember?”
“No!”
I winked. “Just be glad you called me and not Colt.”
I drew in a sharp breath when I realized the book in that drawer was Grady’s journal, the one he’d told me about. I’d completely forgotten all about it.
Hands still shaking, I picked it up and opened it, noting the first entry date was from Grady’s freshman year. I skimmed through it until I got to a date a couple of months before his death.
My eyes are bothering me. They have been for a few months, but I kept telling myself it’s nothing. Now I’m starting to worry it’s something. I can’t be a pilot if my eyes are messed up.
Flipping forward a few pages, I was three weeks out from his death. I took several steps back and sank down onto the bed.