All I can think is, This is the truth.
“Are you warm enough?” Grant asks when he enters the living room with a plate stacked with pancakes and sausage links, drizzled with maple syrup.
I’m dressed in my comfortable clothes and wrapped in a super-fluffy blanket on the couch. It took a while for me to stop shivering. I don’t know if I could blame it on being cold exactly. I’d never experienced anything like what we shared in the rain. Something so intimate and honest. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so connected with someone.
Maybe that’s what love is—the willingness to be bare and vulnerable, accepted for your strengths and flaws. As much as I think of Grant as perfect, I know he has imperfections. But they’re also what make him perfect. The way he loves unconditionally, without judgment. How easy and accepting he is while being passionate about everything he commits to.
And I get it now. That love doesn’t make you lose yourself to another person. It allows you to stand on your own … together. Being strong when the other is weak. Listening when life is too much. And trusting that the other will hold you up when you’re too tired to go on alone.
It is a beautiful, symbiotic existence.
There has to be something in the lake water, I swear. I cover my mouth with the edge of the blanket to stifle a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Grant asks, setting the plate of food on the coffee table, eyeing me curiously. His cheeks are ruddy, and his golden hair is tousled.
He takes me in at the same time I admire him openly.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt, riding my love high. And I mean so much more than his gorgeous face. But I’m not about to say that out loud.
Grant lights up; it’s like the sun has come out. “I was about to say the same thing to you.” He leans over and kisses me.
Grant settles next to me in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He unwraps half the blanket and tucks it around his shoulders. I cuddle in close to him, our legs intertwining, and inhale deeply.
“Hungry?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.
“Starving,” I say, comforted within his arms.
He picks up the plate and sets it on our lap. We tear off pieces of pancake with our fingers and devour the food in easy silence.
“I need to show you something,” I say quietly, nuzzling under his chin after finishing off the last sausage link. “But I’m kind of afraid of what we’ll find.”
Grant slides an arm around my waist. “What is it?”
I set the empty plate on the coffee table and lean over to pick up the tote bag next to the couch, removing the wooden box.
“This is my mother’s. I found it open on her dresser when I was there Monday. She always keeps it locked, so I have no idea if she left it that way or if someone got into it. It’s her … secrets.” Before Grant can voice an objection, I add, “I know I don’t have a right to them. But I have to know, Grant.” I scoot back a bit, so I can see his face. “Will you look with me? If you can’t, I understand.”
Grant eyes the box. “What do you think’s in there?”
“There are some pictures with threats written on the back of them with the same messages as the ones I’ve been receiving. That’s all I’ve seen so far.”
He presses his lips together in contemplation. “Obviously, whoever’s been sending you the messages has seen what’s inside the box, right?”
I nod.
“So that person thinks you should know. Or thought you’d share them with your mother, so she could explain. Do you think she would?”
I let out a breath. “You saw how she reacted, just seeing a picture of Maggie. And I don’t know how compromised her heart is right now. I think if I’m going to find out, I need to look for myself.”
“Then open it up.” Before I do, he sets a hand over mine. “But can you agree to only look at the pictures? If there’s anything else, you leave it.”
“I can’t promise that.” I lower my eyes, feeling ashamed of my honesty.
“Well, um, I won’t look at anything other than the pictures.”
He removes his hand from mine. I open the box, and the images on top still trigger a disturbing reaction.
Grant removes the photos and sorts them, so they’re facing up. “This is Brendan with his mother and Kaden?”
“Yeah.” I pull out a stack of envelopes tied with a faded yellow silk ribbon. I don’t untie them. They’re stamped Air Mail and addressed from K. Harrison in the UK. “I think these may be love letters.”
A lined piece of paper lays half-folded in the box. I pick it up and realize it’s also a letter. I begin to read it, and my stomach drops.
Faye,
Please answer me. I don’t understand why you haven’t written or answered any of my calls. What did I do? Did something happen? I need to understand. I love you. You are my life, so why won’t you …
I can’t read any more. I drop it back in the box and hastily cover it with the stack of letters. I can feel the blood draining from my face.
“Are you okay?” Grant asks, setting the hateful pictures on top and closing the box.
“He didn’t leave her,” I murmur. The one thing I believed my whole life isn’t true. “She left him.” I shake my head, unable to comprehend any of this. “I always thought she was so heartbroken because he left her … because of me. But … she broke his heart. Why?”
“Maybe … you’re not his. And she couldn’t tell him.” Grant looks troubled even suggesting it.
“Because she fell in love with someone else? Or she didn’t love him anymore?”
He shakes his head, unable to answer. “That’s the conversation you need to have with her if you want to understand what happened.”
“But there’s more to it. You saw how cruel Maggie was, blaming my mother for … whatever she did. That means there’s one other person who may know.” I lean my head against Grant’s chest. “Will you talk to Brendan with me? I’m afraid I might hurt him if I do it alone.”
Grant chuckles. My head jostles when he laughs. “Of course. We’re in this together, remember?”
Maybe he’ll forgive you too. I only hope it’s not too late. That you’re not too broken.
I leave a note in the tree and text Ashton to make sure Brendan checks it immediately. He’s not one of my approved contacts, so this is the only way I’m able to contact him other than through Ashton. But I don’t want her knowing where we’re going in case it goes wrong and we get busted.
I scoop up my backpack and walk through the administration building, where Grant is waiting to check me out.
“Ready for this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply, determined. I look up at him. “Thank you for doing this with me.”
“I’m glad you asked.” He gives me a quick kiss before I get in the car.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask as he pulls out of Blackwood.
“Yeah. Sawyer told me where to park.”
“How is he? Did he, or should I say, did his parents decide to enroll him in Printz-Lee?”