Page 69 of Love Me Again

But he was learning something about taking care of himself because the people who loved him needed him to.

Maybe she even needed to run. Maybe she needed to see what that felt like. Every second without her hurt. Not the dull ache it had been before—because that had been cloaked in self-pity and surety he deserved every ounce of pain.

Maybe he deserved it, and always would, but he wouldn’t drown in it. He wouldn’t let the self-defeat win.

He’d told her he was a fighter, so he’d be one. He had some damn good examples to model himself after.

He pulled out his phone and typed out a text to her.

I hope you have a safe trip. I hope you know you can always come home.

Because this was home. He’d been wrong to keep her from it when they’d been married. Just another bad decision to add to the list.

But mistakes could be fixed.

Cora and Shane came home the next day, and Boone sent Josie a text with a picture of baby Owen surrounded by his doting audience in the living room that night.

She didn’t reply, but that was okay. He wouldn’t expect a response, even if he checked his phone an abnormal amount. He’d just hope it was getting through.

The next night, when Cal and Lindsay came over to announce their engagement, he sent her another one.

You won the bet. Cal and Lindsay engaged. What do I owe you?

She hadn’t responded. Not even to tell him he’d made a bet with Cora, not her.

Every day that passed, he sent her some little message. Micah changed his first poopy diaper. He may never be the same.

He’d considered starting to call and leave voice messages, but he didn’t think she’d allow herself to listen. She’d be strong enough to avoid that, he thought, but he knew her well enough to know she’d be curious enough to read whatever he sent eventually.

If she hadn’t blocked his number.

So every day, he kept at it. Just once a day.

I’m pretty sure that baby smiled at me.

On the day he and Lindsay took Micah to Denver to see the basketball game, he sent a video of Micah cheering wildly and waving a towel around his head like a maniac.

The next day: How young is too young for a slingshot? Need a Christmas present for Owen still.

And the next: The sunset was beautiful tonight. Made me think of you.

She never responded, and part of him thought he should knock it off. Give her a break. But a break was what she expected from him. Giving up. Laying low.

He wasn’t going to harass her, but he wasn’t going to give up. If she didn’t want to hear from him, she’d block his number. Maybe she had and he was sending things into the void.

A terrible thought, so he didn’t give it much credence. He was learning how to hope. How to believe in hope.

When Christmas dawned, Boone spent the first hour of his morning perfecting a text to her. Maybe she’d read it. Maybe she’d blocked his number last week. But he went with serious. With honest vulnerability.

Because he missed her, and he hated the thought of her spending Christmas alone when he could already hear his family clomping around downstairs.

He stared at the message, read and perfected it.

Merry Christmas, Josie. I hope you’ve opened your present, and you like it. I saw it in a shop in Livingston back then and immediately thought of you, and I kept it all this time because I had to believe someday I’d have the chance to give it to you.

You made that chance happen, I know. You’re not wrong about that. But that doesn’t mean I gave up on us, even if I was damn stupid for thinking I had to find a way to deserve you again.

There hasn’t been a moment I didn’t love you since the day I laid eyes on you. My mom told me she doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but she said my dad did. He was a good man, so he must be right.