“You have two minutes left,”the correctional officer tells Christian, and he nods.
“Colten, can you hand the phone to Taryn?” he asks from the other side of the glass barrier.
Colten’s eyes shift into little slits, scrutinizing his father. Placing my hand on his bicep, I run my thumb up and down on his skin. His attention shifts to me.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ll talk to him.”
He lifts his frame from the chair, handing me the phone. Tugging his fingers anxiously through his hair, he paces toward the door to wait for me, leaving me alone with a man I’ve never spoken to—a man I’ve only seen in articles and on the news. But here he is in the flesh, asking to speak with me.
My pulse beats wildly. What could he possibly want to say to me?
Clearing my throat, I shift in my seat. My skin prickles in response to Colten’s eyes boring into me from behind.
“I don’t have much time, but I want to thank you.” Opening my mouth to speak and ask why he’s thanking me, he quickly cuts me off. “You don’t need to say anything. The rest of my children have sent me letters for years, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting for a particular letter every week since I’ve been in here.”
My heart drops, and Christian’s intense gaze hooks on to mine. He rubs his red eyes with his fingers before looking back up. But his focus isn’t on me. His attention is on his son. “I can’t tell you how happy I was when six letters arrived a few weeks ago instead of five. I knew whatever was in Colten’s letter would hurt like hell, but I needed to hear it.”
Colten sent him a letter? Why, after all this time?
“He told me my failures have made him a better man—that my failures have made him the man his family needed when I couldn’t step up as a father.” I focus on a part of the glass where I can see Colten’s reflection toward the back of the room. “I have failed a lot in my lifetime, Taryn. But the one thing I’ll never forgive myself for is that my son said he hasn’t believed in love for the last five years.”
He rolls out his shoulders, swallowing. “But then he said he met someone who changed his mind…I think you and I both know who that is.”
The breath in my lungs evaporates. My heart batters against my ribs, and I have the overwhelming urge to reach up and clench my chest.
The officer steps up behind him. “Time is up.”
Christian holds my gaze for a moment, silence passing between us.
He flattens his lips, taking one last look at Colten. “Take care of them.”
My reply to his plea is effortless. “I will.”
FORTY-NINE | TARYN
Purples and pinks blend into an ombre of colors with wispy clouds streaking across the sky like someone took a paintbrush to the atmosphere and made it their own personal masterpiece. The vibrant hues reflect off the water of the Columbia, the view easing the vibration of panic in my bones.
My feet hang off the truck bed, dangling and swaying. The chilly air soaks into the black silk fabric of my dress, the wind catching the loose cloth, making it ripple like the waves below.
I’m forced to take this corner on the cliffside almost daily while driving or riding with one of the guys. Shortly after my accident, Colten paid a construction company to build a barrier. And though the guardrail eases some of the panic that vibrates in my bones whenever I get close to the cliffside, each day is more manageable.
Like today.
Colten pulled his truck off the road to a spot where we could watch the sunset over the water. At first, I refused to come anywhere near the cliff that nearly killed me. But once I saw theview, my heart craved to watch it. To soak in the chilly fall air while a picturesque landscape is sprawled out before me.
The edge of the orchard is behind us. Leaves rustle in the wind, some falling from branches and fluttering to the earth below. Occasionally, I can hear the pounding of apples crashing to the ground. Inhaling a deep breath, the scent of algae and wood lingers in the air, sweeping off the river.
Colten rounds the corner of the truck, gripping his black suit jacket and tugging it off. The white shirt stretches against his forearms, his strong shoulders rippling when he removes his tie. Placing the garments on the side, he lifts himself up to sit beside me, the truck bouncing with his weight.
Blankets and pillows are in the bed, and he reaches for a blanket. Whipping it out, he lays it on my legs and wraps his arm around me, tugging me closer. His leather and cinnamon scent envelops me.
Today was a heavy day.
The funeral.
All the beautiful words he said about his mother and the woman she was still echo in my mind.
I wish I could’ve known Jane and met the woman who raised the resilient man sitting beside me.
