His voice makes my chest ache. It almost sounds like his heart is broken, too, but that certainly doesn’t make any sense. Does it?
“Do y’all want anything besides coffee?” Beatrice asks us as I clutch the papers.
Adam looks at me and I nod. “Some pancakes, please, with lots of strawberry jam and butter and whipped cream.” All of a sudden, I’m starving. Not eating all day is hitting me hard now.
When she leaves, I begin to read.
At first, my heart drops further than where it’s been since last night.
Because it’s the article. Adam wants me to read the article, and haven’t I already read enough of this damn article?
But then I realize…it’s not. I mean, it is the article, but it’s something entirely new.
When I set out to find out what happened to Sky Flores, I thought that I’d meet someone whose narrative could easily be explained by someone with mental health struggles or a troubled history of running away for long periods of time.
Instead, I fell in love.
Adam goes on to explain that he’s never met someone who was more honest than me. More grounded. More aware.
Hawks land on her shoulders. She can coax chipmunks and pigeons into her arms for cuddles. Clearly, there is more to this woman than I ever could have known. There’s more to Sky Flores than all of Cranberry deserves to know.
It’s not a piece, or an article. It’s a love letter. Adam wrote a love letter to me.
“When did you write this?” I ask. My voice is little more than a whisper.
Adam takes in a sharp breath. “Last week. I was trying to get the details right. That’s why I had the first draft up. But after last night…when I saw how much I had hurt you. I rented a hotel…just to get away from William, who would not leave me alone about how bad I’d fucked up with you. And I wrote the story Ireally, really wanted to, since I began to get to know you. Since I began falling in love with you.” He swallows. “I wrote the story you deserve. Not because I want you back, even though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But this…” He gestures to the papers in my hands. “This is the truth, Sky.” He holds my gaze. “I believe you. I believe your family. And I hope—” His eyes water and he rubs them with his wrists. “I hope you can believe that I love you, too.”
I think of all the ways his love has come. Making sure I’m taken care of. Always apologizing and making things right. Punching a man in the face who had tried to hurt me. And now this: a love letter, written for me.
“What if this is too sappy? What if your career is ruined because you’re writing about falling in love with your subject?”
Adam shrugs. “I don’t care, Sky. I’ve been enjoying learning carpentry lately, flipping that house. I can always be a woodworker.” He smiles. “But these things—” He gestures to the papers. “The ones told from the heart have a way of becoming more successful than anything else. If you even wanted it published, that is. It’s up to you.”
Just then, Beatrice brings my pancakes. They’re huge, stacked up like a little tower. “You want to share?” I ask Adam, who laughs.
“Even when I’ve broken your heart, you want to share your pancakes with me.”
I shrug. “You did just break and enter the church and bribe our server to keep me safe.”
He nods. “That I did.”
“And you still owe me an orgasm with your tongue.”
Adam’s eyes widen. “I…I do, don’t I?”
“And once you publish this, everyone’s gonna know about how much you love me, so. Why not share some pancakes?”
Adam laughs and stands fast, coming to my side of the booth. “Jesus. Sky. Does this really mean?” A tear escapes his eye as he holds my hand. “You want me back?”
I nod slowly, my own tears coming. “Of course I want you back. But please don’t run away again. I would rather we work things out in person, you know? That way I won’t be forced to uncover a secret lair in the church.”
Adam laughs and kisses me then. And it takes both of our wills to stop and finish the pancakes while they’re warm. And then, of course, we kiss again, and again, and again.
Epilogue
One month later, I amin bed, slowly awakening to the scent of coffee. My favorite flavored coffee of all time, one that brings memories that are happy—me and Nadia dancing in the kitchen after we figured out how to replicate it for a fraction of the price—and sad: me, a ghost, conjuring this coffee like a spell alongside prayers of desperation. A coffee I haven’t had in alongtime—raspberry chocolate.
I push up, fully expecting Sage to be there, cup in hand. After all, this was the exact kind of coffee I used to bring her as a ghost, especially when she forced herself to stop crying for years.Please don’t forget mewas my prayer with this gift. And she didn’t. Even though it seemed like both she and Teal had forgotten me because of their anger with one another, they never did, not really.
