Twenty-Two Levi
The kitchen is quieter than it has any right to be. The kind of quiet that feels unnatural, like the world is holding it’s breath. I glance at the clock on the wall—time’s ticking by, but it feels like it’s stuck in place, dragging me along with it. My eyes keep drifting back to the envelope on the table, Sunny’s name staring up at me like a challenge. It’s just a piece of paper, just ink and some words I forced myself to write. But it feels like everything is wrapped up in that envelope—every feeling, every moment we’ve shared, every unspoken word I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud.
The storm outside isn’t helping, the wind rattling the windows like it’s trying to get in. It’s fitting, really. There’s a storm inside me too, this battle between what I want and what I know I have to do. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this torn, this conflicted. It’s like there’s a war going on in my chest, and I’m not sure which side is going to win.
I think about her smile, the way it lights up her whole face, the way it lights up my whole damn world. She’s a force of nature, that girl—so full of life, so full of energy. She walked into my life and turned everything upside down, but in the best way possible. I didn’t even know I was missing something until she showed up and filled the empty spaces I had no idea were there.
I let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair. The house feels too big, too empty without her in it. I remember all the times she’d sit across from me at this very table, teasing me about my apron, laughing at some story she’d heard from the guys. She has this way of making everything better, just by being there. Just by being Sunny. God, I’m going to miss her. The thought of not seeing her every day, not hearing her laugh, not holding her in my arms—it’s like a knife to the gut.
My phone buzzes on the table, breaking the silence. Sunny’s name lights up the screen, and my heart skips a beat. My hand hovers over it, torn between answering and letting it ring. If I pick up, I know what’ll happen. I’ll hear her voice, and all the resolve I’ve been trying to build will crumble. I’ll tell her to stay, and that’s not fair to her. She deserves more than what I can give her here. She deserves to see the world, to chase her dreams.
But damn it, I want her to stay. I want her here, with me. I want to wake up next to her every morning, to kiss her goodnight every evening. I want to build a life with her, a future. But I can’t force her into that. I can’t ask her to give up everything for me, no matter how much I want to.
The phone stops ringing, the silence rushing back in like a tide. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, the tightness in my chest easing just a little. But the ache is still there, this dull, persistent throb that won’t go away. It’s not going to go away. Not anytime soon.
I push back from the table, pacing the kitchen like that’ll somehow help me figure this out. But there’s nothing to figure out, is there? I’ve already made my decision. I’m letting her go because it’s the right thing to do. Because I love her enough to let her go, even though it’s killing me inside.
I think about all the things I love about her—the way she scrunches her nose when she’s concentrating, the way she bites her lip when she’s trying not to laugh, the way she looks at me like I’m the only person in the world that matters. I love the way she dances around the kitchen when she thinks no one’s watching, the way she talks to the horses like they can understand her, the way she’s so damn fearless in everything she does.
And I love her for all the things she doesn’t even realize she’s doing—how she makes me want to be better, how she makes me feel like I’m worth something just by being in her presence. I love her for the way she makes me laugh, the way she challenges me, the way she doesn’t let me get away with anything. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t keep her from the world just because I’m scared to lose her.
A knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and I drag myself over to answer it. Colton’s standing there, grinning, like everything’s fine. Like the world isn’t falling apart around me.
“Come on, man,”
he says, clapping his hands together. “The girls are leaving in a minute. Chop chop.”
I swallow hard, the words sticking in my throat. I don’t want to say them, don’t want to do this. But I have to.
“Can you give this to Sunny?”
I ask, my voice breaking as I hand him the envelope.
Colton looks down at it, then back at me, his smile fading
“You’re not going to say goodbye to her, are you?”
“I can’t, Colt. If I go and see her, I’ll tell her to stay.”
I clear my throat, trying to get rid of the lump that’s lodged there. “That’s not fair on her. She deserves more.”
Colton shakes his head, sighing as he takes the envelope from my hand.
I love you, Levi. I really do, but you’re an idiot,” he sighs.
“Y’know, Sunny is nothing like Taylor, she’s not going to hurt you.”
He adds, before turning and walking out the door.
The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m alone again. Alone with my thoughts, my regrets, my fears. The house is too quiet, too empty. I can’t stand it. But I also can’t stand the thought of seeing her go, knowing I’m not going with her. Knowing I’m letting her go without a fight.
I sit back down at the kitchen table, staring at the spot where the envelope used to be. I made the right choice, didn’t I? Letting her go, letting her live her life, chase her dreams. It’s what she deserves. It’s what she wants.
My phone buzzes again, and my heart leaps as Sunny’s name flashes across the screen. The temptation to answer is almost unbearable. To hear her voice, to tell her how much I love her, how much I’m going to miss her. But I can’t. I can’t tell her that and then let her go. I can’t be a regret.
I let the phone ring, each vibration like a knife to my chest. When it finally stops, the silence is once again deafening. I sit there, staring at the dark screen, feeling like the world is crumbling around me. I did the right thing. I definitely did the right thing. I have to believe that. Because if I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll get through this.