Suddenly my eyes land on the old shoebox Frankie brought in last night. He said Xaden asked him to deliver it. Just in case.
The lid is already loose, like it’s inviting me to look. If he wanted me to have it anyway, I can open it, right?
I lift the lid.Chaos.
The box is full of yellow post-its, some so old they’re curling at the edges. Dozens of half-torn, coffee-stained, folded, sticky notes — old and new. All written in Xaden’s neat hand. What is this box? And how badly is it going to ruin me?
The first note is harmless enough:
The vending machine here only sells protein bars and beef jerky. Not a single candy bar in sight. You’d hate it here.
I smile. He’s right. Another:
The instructor has a jaw like a brick. He paces back and forth like a hundred times a minute.
Then:
Everybody tries to out-alpha one another.
I chuckle, shaking my head.
The coffee here is hot but otherwise torture. I miss your weird mugs.
Every one of my mugs is a keeper.
A guy at the gym flirted with me. That, or he was a weird blinker. FYI: it wouldn’t matter if he flirted or not. I only want you.
The smile slips.
I tried Frankie’s cousin’s curry. If I die during the night, know this: I love you.
My throat tightens. And then, faded and worn:
I miss you so much.
My chest aches. Another:
The bus ride to Briar Gap was agony. I love you too much. But I also need to do this.
That one knocks the air out of me. I press my hand over my mouth, then reach for another.
Saw a flyer for an open mic night at a bar down the street. You’d blow their minds.
The pile isn’t random — it’s a breadcrumb trail of four years. Proof he didn’t just think about me. He carried me. By the time I pull the one that reads —
I’m learning to fight better, breathe better, think better. But I don’t feel better.
— my eyes are wet, and the weight of all those scraps of paper finally crashes over me.
Xaden’s awake, blinking, one hand braced behind him. “You opened the box?”
“I did.”
A beat.
“I thought it was something to do with this operation. Instead it’s…” I gesture helplessly. “This is insane, Xaden.” He sits up with a wince and rubs his jaw. His beautiful face has stitches, and fury sparks again in me, hot and protective.
“You didn’t have to keep all of these,” I say, softer now.
