Chapter 13 #2
You told me I’d never make it out here but look at me now. Making it just fine without all you overbearing pricks watching every move I make.
Eat glass Ethan
My phone buzzes with another message, but I toggle my notifications to Do Not Disturb.
This is why I moved away. Everyone thinks I’m incapable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions.
Having five brothers is a lot. Once they deem you too weak and fragile to fend for yourself, it becomes impossible to live in the same town.
Much less on the same ranch. Hell, it’s bad enough being in the same state as them.
Brooks and Ethan are the worst. They have absolutely zero chill when it comes to letting me be my own person.
I can still hear Brooks’ deep voice when I told them I was moving to Benson.
“That’s just plain stupid, Leni. You’ll never make it without us.
Look what happened last time you tried to do something on your own.
” He acts like he’s never made any mistakes, as if he weren’t engaged to a drug addict who stole from him and almost burned down the big barn. Twice.
Fucking assholes.
Putting my newfound anger to work, I decide to rage-clean the cabin. Clay kept it nearly spotless, but there’s always something to clean when you’re mad. I focus on the bathroom, scrubbing the toilet and sink, then move on to the tub.
Once it’s sparkling on the inside, I move to the outside of the tub.
The plastic gets kind of grungy, with dust bunnies and dirt clinging to the bottom.
As I come around to the far end of the tub, my fingers brush something that feels like canvas.
I manage to hook my fingers into the material, pulling a small black shaving kit out from between the tub and the wall.
Strange, I definitely didn’t put that there.
My breath catches when I open the zipper. A black spider webbed phone screen stares back at me, the bright pink case a stark contrast to the bag. Holy shit. He kept my phone, the one that fell out of my bag that night.
Shaky fingers pull the phone out. I turn it over in my hand, staring at the case and the Polaroid behind it.
I bend the plastic case back to remove the picture and my driver’s license.
God, I was such a baby when they took that picture.
My cheeks still had baby fluff on them, hair twisted back into double braids, much like the ones I’m wearing now.
I don’t know why he would keep this, but my phone isn’t the only thing in the bag.
I find letters, hundreds of letters, all of them with my name on them.
Most of the envelopes are sealed. I dump them all out, inspecting each one until I find one that isn’t.
Carefully, I pull out a bundle of papers and unfold them.
Clay’s blocky, all-caps handwriting greets me.
September 9th
45 days without you
Dear Leni,
I told myself I wasn’t going to write you anymore. That you’d be better off without me, but I don’t think I’m better off without you. I’ve barely slept since getting back to base. I got new orders today, looks like I’m shipping out to the Middle East again.
I’m scared, Leni. That last tour really fucked me up, and I’m scared that I’m not going to come back as me.
Or worse, I won’t make it back at all. My unit came home intact last time, but we saw too many that didn’t.
And the people there, Leni. The people we have to defend ourselves from, some of them are kids.
I swear, I saw one that looked just like Adler.
He was still smiling, lying there on the ground, flies buzzing around his head. Fuck.
I should have stayed on the ranch. Become Brooks 2.0 or something. I’m in it now, I guess. I wouldn’t be able to look any of you in the eyes if I left now. Plus, I’m pretty sure desertion is a crime nowadays. Or is it still? Fuck, I don’t know, Leni.
All I know is that when I close my eyes, all I see is death and darkness. And I hate myself sometimes because this summer, when you held me? I didn’t see it anymore. I just saw you. You chased away the darkness for me. Did you know that Leni?
Did you know that you saved me?
I miss you
—CT
June 1st
676 days without you
Dear Leni,
I re-enlisted today. I wasn’t going to. I told everyone that I was done with this life. Then I came home this summer, looking for family and sunshine, and you weren’t here.
I fucked everything up, didn’t I, Len? I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’ve lost all sense of direction. I don’t know which way is up or down. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going. The only thing I know is that I miss you.
I miss coming in from the field after a full day of riding and seeing you. I miss hearing you laugh. I miss the way you listen. I miss sitting on the deck in silence. I miss the feel of your hand in mine.
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
I’m so sorry, Leni.
—CT
1,135 days without you
Dear Leni,
I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s too hard to live like this. I’m so tired, Leni. I wish that you could hold me one more time.
—C
My heart hammers in my chest. All these letters, these moments where he needed someone, and he never sent them.
Never called me. I was a phone call away, and still, he never reached out.
I waited for him to call me after that night, for him to at least check in and make sure I was okay.
But the silence was louder than any words from him could have been.
My fingers itch to open the other envelopes, confirm this growing suspicion that maybe Clay lied. Maybe he did want me. Maybe he never stopped wanting me. So, why? Why didn’t he say anything?
Why wasn’t I enough?