When I get back to my room, the first thing I do is take Nash’s hoodie and pull it over my head. The fleece lining is warm, and it smells of spicy cedar, of Nash. I breathe him in, tucking my hands into the front pocket to hold him as close to my body as I can. A sharp corner digs into my finger and, confused, I pull out a folded piece of paper – I’d recognise that doctor’s scratch anywhere.
To my little rabbit,
I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Rain to slip this into your case without your knowledge.
I just want you to know, I miss you already even though when you find this letter you’ve probably only been gone a matter of hours. You’re precious to me Corey, and while I know you need to take some time to heal and figure out what your next steps are, I hope that one day those feet of yoursmight bring you back to me.
I’ve never known anyone like you before, and I’ve fallen for you hook, line, and sinker I’m afraid. There’s no going back for me. If you decide that’s not what you want in the future, whenever you’re ready, maybe send me a thumbs down emoji or something?
But if, perhaps, it might be… I might be… something you want in the future, just know that I will wait for you. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do for both of you is walk away until you’re ready to be loved in return, and you, Corey, are so much braver than me.
When things settle down, and you’ve healed what needs healing, and you believe you’ve grown into the incredible man I already know you are, and you think a small town doctor, single father, and research nerd might be something you want for yourself… come home to us. OK?
And in the meantime, let’s be pen pals. I know, it’s lame, but indulge an old man his romantic sensibilities.
You’re in my heart, little rabbit, every day.
Nash x
Tears stream down my cheeks as I read and reread the letter, a warm glow filling me. It’s hope, happiness, and a dream to aspire to.The man who wrote that beautiful letter is a man worth fighting for. And for however long it takes, I’ll fight to be the best version of myself and to keep him and Nancy safe.
I pick up my phone from the bedside table and open our message thread. I send a single emoji, so he knows where I stand. But it’s not the thumbs down he mentioned in his letter.
It’s a bright yellow, thumbs up.
***
Two weeks later, and it’s like I’ve never been away. Emma and I have settled into a routine where she opens up the gym, and I close, so she can join one of the spin classes run each evening by Richard, a very buff gym-bro type whose enthusiasm for ‘motivating’ his victims rivals that of the most seasoned Peloton coaches.
Most evenings, once we’ve closed, Emma comes back to John’s, or I go to hers, and we chat about our days, eat delicious food, drink a glass or three of wine, and swoon over Heated Rivalry on the TV.
She’d come over to see me the day after I arrived back in Coventry, and we’d spent hours with John and some leftover Christmas treats – mince pies, Danish butter cookies, and Christmascake.
They’d listened as I told them everything about my past, even going so far back as when my parents had kicked me out. I told them about spending time on the streets and what I did to survive. I told them about how toxic and controlling my relationship with Dominic had been, and how he’d turned up in Fenside Common and taken me against my will back to London. It sounded like the plot of a terrible ’90s melodrama, and yet the saddest thing about it was the truth of it all.
John sat beside me the whole time, his knee pressing against mine in silent solidarity, while Emma raged for me, cried with me, and held onto me through it all. By the end, I’d had to tell them that Dominic had absconded and was still wanted by the police. Looking back on it now, I can’t help but smile at their reactions.
“Let him come, the fuckin’ wee bastard. I’ll show him some proper Scots hospitality,” Emma said, as she paced the floor of John’s living room.
“Yeah, there’s no way we’re sending you away to deal with this on your own, son. You’ll stay here with us, and we’ll all look out for each other. Then, when he’s found, you can make some decisions about what you want to do longterm.” John squeezed my shoulder tightly, then gave it a shake before heading into the kitchen. “Cup of tea?” he called over his shoulder, and that was that.
I’ve only had one update from DI Martin in the last fortnight to let me know that they have no current leads on his whereabouts, but that he’ll keep me posted. He took my new address down for his records and told me to stay vigilant and call him if anything out of the ordinary came up.
So far, there’s been nothing. Not a sound, not a peep, not a word from him at all.
Taking his silence as an opportunity to move forward with my life, I pick up my phone from the table in the staff room at the gym and call the number for the therapist Emma recommended. One of her friends saw Dr. Philip Posner a couple of years ago and had only good things to say about him, apparently.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Posner’s office. How may I help?” The chirpy voice of the therapist’s receptionist comes down the line, a distinct change from the grunts and hollers I’ve been hearing all day from the weight room behind the reception desk.
“Oh, yes. Hello. I’m hoping to book an appointment to see Dr. Posner, please. I-I need some help.”
Twenty-four
Nash
January
Dear Nash,
