My name is scrawled across the front in messy, familiar handwriting.
I sit up slowly.
“Who gave it to you?”
She shakes her head. “Didn’t see. Might’ve been left while I was out back. Just thought you should have it.”
I nod, but my throat’s too tight to speak. I should talk to her. Tell her officially everything that’s happening, but she doesn’t push, and I can’t force the words out.
Mom gives my hand a little squeeze and quietly slips back out, leaving the door ajar behind her.
I stare at the envelope like it might explode.
Then I open it.
Josie.
I freeze. My heart stumbles.
Josie,
I don’t even know if this will reach you. Maybe your mom tosses it. Maybe you never even come back. Maybe that’s what I deserve.
I just…
Damn.
I love you.
I love you so much it terrifies me.
And this baby?
I want to be better. I want to show up. I will.
But I keep hearing her voice, Savannah’s, and all the lies I believed before, and it makes my chest go tight and my head go sideways and then I lose it and say shit I don’t mean.
You are not her.
I know that.
But fear is loud, and grief is louder.
And I think I broke the only thing that ever made me feel like more than just the wreckage of my past.
You.
I love you.
I don’t know what comes next.
But if there's still a version of us out there somewhere, if there’s still a chance, I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.
I’m sorry.
—K
By the time I finish reading, my vision is so blurred I can barely see the words.
