Page 150 of We Drank the Dawn

I kicked myself for blocking him. I’d do anything to listen to those messages right now.

When did he write this letter? I wondered if he still felt this way, even after getting served. Was he angry at me now?

That’s when I remembered the box. I plucked it from the flowers and tore through the wrapping, shredded tissue piling in my lap. Lifting the lid, I found a mesh baggy with two golden sun charms inside.

I fell apart.

Letting my forehead hit the steering wheel, I cried for a long time. When I could breathe normally again, I found a jacket in the backseat of my car and wiped my eyes with it. Carefully, I put the charms in my glove box then put the car in reverse. I wanted to go home.

I needed a Tylenol and a bath.

And time to pore over that letter again.

FIFTY

Sarah

Iclearly did some of my best thinking in the shower, because a brilliant question crossed my mind as the hot water whisked the salty streaks from my cheeks and pelted against the swollen curves of my face.

Did blocked messages still come through?

Maybe they did. If he was actually hearing my voicemail greeting and leaving messages, maybe I could find them somewhere. It was probably wishful thinking, but the mere hope the idea brought infused me with urgency. I quickly washed the soap off my body, toweled dry, and slipped on my robe. Flopping onto my bed, I grabbed my phone and pulled up Google.

“Can blocked voicemails still come through on an iphone?”

My heart thrummed in my chest as the beautiful, wonderful answer unfolded before me.

Yes. Blocking a number only rejects the call and routes it to voicemail.

Apparently, there could be a folder on my phone called blocked voicemails. Following the instructions I found on Reddit, I scrolled down on my normal voicemail feed until my eyes landed on a folder that said blocked.

And my heart jumped when I saw the number.

Thirty-seven!

I had thirty-seven blocked voice mails?!

My hands shook as I opened the folder.

Every single one of them was from Peter.

Scrolling backwards to find the earliest one, I turned my phone’s speaker volume all the way up and pressed play.

“Hey, Sarah. I wasn’t planning on leaving a message…”

The sound of his voice carved a hole in my chest, producing hunger in me that was so violent and painful, I curled into a ball on my bed.

“But, uh, then I heard your voice and realized how much I miss talking to you. Not fighting with you though. Actually talking. What we used to do before…before I completely shut down. There’s a laundry list of stuff I need to confess and talk to you about, and even though I don’t know how to say most of it, I hope I’ll have the chance eventually. When you’re ready. If you’re ever ready, that is.”

I listened to his message until it clicked off.

Immediately, I went to the next one.

“Hey Sarah, it’s me again. I figured out that you probably blocked me, so you won’t get this. I actually just called to hear your greeting because…*soft laughter*...it’s really cute. Anyway, uh, I’ve been working on the ranch. Not going to lie, it sucks. The blisters on my hands have finally healed up though and, apparently, I’m pretty out of shape. Which tracks, I guess, when you consider what I’ve been doing for the last two years…”

There were so many. I listened to message after message, crying and laughing and grinning so big I thought my face would split open.

“Hey Sarah, I have to tell you about Tillie. I don’t think you met her when you were here, but she’s the oldest horse on the ranch, and she’s so sweet…”