I try to tell her with my nod that her sister is okay. Or she will be. She’s with someone who’ll make sure of it.
The raucous laughter of my favorite woman brings my eyes back to the ladies at my side. Gracie is peeking closer at Lexi’s temple, and she’s shaking her head to let her hair fall back over the battle wound.
“Nothing,” she whispers fiercely, feeling my smirking gaze on her.
“Have you been drinking wine?” Gracie sniffs the air between them.
“She had some grapes on the way here,” I answer, the world’s biggest smile on my face.
TWENTY-SIX
LEXI
Rory Grady
I left the letters in your mailbox.
Me
So I can give them back to him?
So you can read them too.
After you do, let’s talk.
I wait until I have a day off, a week later, before I dare let myself sink into the letters.
After doing my weekly watering routine, talking to every one of my plants as I spritz, water, or don’t on my way by, I close all of the shades. Partly so no one sees me if those fucking tears come back, but also because it feels right to do this in the dark. Sunlight streaming in while I revisit some of the deepest pain my family has felt, it just feels off.
Wrapping my silk robe I always wear when I’m home alone tighter around my middle, I bring the packet to the coffee table nestled among the plush velvety furniture of my living room and take a seat, the couch swallowing my ass.
After a quick mental back and forth, I decide to start from the beginning and read them through in sequence. That’s probably what Rory did, and I want to be prepared for whatever she’ll throw at me when that talk comes.
The paper rips in the middle when I unfold it like I would do to normal mail.
“Fuck,” I whisper, trying to press the torn edges back together.
I can still read it, but I need to be more delicate with them.
Fifteen years of pain is enough time for all of us to sustain damage easily, I guess.
My eyes fly to the top of the page, and I soak in the words that feel like a part of our past.
Rory,
You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, so I figure maybe a letter will get to you. If you don’t rip it up or burn it before you hear me out.
Dove, you have every right to be angry with me. I wasn’t a good role model for a husband, but I tried to be the best father I could be all these years, even if my heart wasn’t with your mother.
It was always with you and your sister.
Please call me. I want to see you.
Love,
Dad
Hell, my eyes are already prickling.
