Page 137 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

I can’t speak.

Faye continues, “I found them in the closet when I was clearing some of his old clothes. I couldn’t get rid of them all…”

I know. I wore his clothes while I was waiting for mine to dry after holding her in the shower while she was delusional with sickness.

“The box was tucked into the back of the closet.” She flicks away a tear. “It was stuffed full. I—I only read one.”

When I still say nothing, she adds, “I planned to give them to you. Eventually.” I swallow hard when her eyes come back to me. “When did he start writing you?”

He never wrote to me. “He’d been trying to communicate with me since before Owen was born.”

There. It’s not a lie. I never said he wrote me letters. I said he communicated, which he did by text. A lot.

Faye nods, but there’s a pinch to her smile. Her eyes are filled with water.

I hate that she’s hurting. I hate that I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough to make the hurt fade.

I hate that there’s a part of me that’s afraid of the fade. Afraid that it could mean she’s forgetting him…

“Did you ever respond to him, Holt?”

I wish I had. “No.”

She catches her little sob with the tips of her fingers as she presses them to her lips. I expect her to scold me. To tell me that I should have responded because now I’ll never get the chance.

“I’m sorry.” Her gentle understanding hurts more than if she’d laid into me.

My own throat burns, so I take a swallow of my beer. Then, because I clearly want to hurt, I ask, “Tell me about your life with him?”

She studies me closely for a long moment. I think she’s trying to decide if I really want this. If I can take it.

I’m not sure if I do. If I can.

But I think I need it all the same.

“He was good, Holt. He was slow and safe. He didn’t have any burning passions that didn’t revolve around us.” Not like me and hockey. “Tate made a point of having a family popcorn night every weekend, no matter how busy we were. Both the kids loved those nights. Snuggling up and sinking into the couch with homemade popcorn. I don’t think either of my kids has ever had popcorn out of those microwave bags.” Her nose wrinkles.

I chuckle. “That’s the only way I’ve ever made popcorn.”