50. Garrett
GARRETT
Eyeing the pink frosting smeared on Peony’s cheek as she plays with her blocks, I pick up the mail Athena left on the dining table.
The amount of frosting on Peony’s cheek is tiny, but it’s enough to tell me she and Athena were at Picnic & Treats this afternoon.
I’m almost tempted to ask Athena if she saw Zara, who’s canceled our hikes every day this week, but the handwriting on the top envelope immediately steers my thoughts away from that.
Suspecting the letter isn’t an apology from Cooper’s brother for the last one he sent me, I head for the dimly lit cave of my office.
I toss the rest of the mail onto my desk and deliberate whether to bother with the letter or just toss it into the recycling unopened. Do I have the energy to deal with his theatrics or is this letter part of my punishment?
Fuck. I put on my glasses and rip open the envelope by the window where the afternoon sunlight still hits.
Garrett,
Do you regret how many lives you’ve hurt? How many others you’ve destroyed ?
My brother was always there for me. He was there when I needed a guiding hand. You stole that. You took away the one person who I could trust for advice.
You don’t care what your actions did that day. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You stole everything that was important to me. You destroyed his wife and his family.
That’s the thing—I do care.
I glance at the calendar, though I don’t need to see how many days remain until my deadline. I have the daily countdown in my head.
I could wait the fourteen days and then fly out once the manuscript is secure in Thomas’s inbox.
I could…but I won’t be able to focus on it until I talk to Austin. Until I see for myself how Cassie and her kids are doing.
Plus, I could use that time while I’m in Tucson to lock myself away in a hotel room for a few days and write without interruptions. Because if not for the frequent interruptions that come in the pint-sized form of my daughter, I’d already be finished with the manuscript.
And then I’ll talk to Zara. We need to have a conversation that’s long overdue.
I spend the next several minutes arranging my flight and hotel room, as well as checking that my brothers can handle this weekend’s Warriors excursion without me.
A week away should give me plenty of time to finish the book, other than the final read through. And I’ll FaceTime with Peony while I’m gone so she doesn’t think I’ve abandoned her.
I drop the letter next to the government grant application form for Wilderness Warriors. I need to give it to Kellan to sign before I leave for Tucson. It’s due next week.
The following afternoon, I sit in the rental car outside what was once Cooper’s house, while I wait for Cassie to come home. The small two-story building is on a residential street with other older cookie-cutter homes.
Like me, Cassie has always been into gardening, and that doesn’t seem to have changed since Cooper’s death. Colorful flowers fill the yard and wooden planters on the porch. It’s not exactly the long-forgotten garden I half expected based on Austin’s letters.
I open the photo app and scroll to my favorite picture of Peony.
I captured the moment while Zara and Peony were building a sandcastle on the beach by the lake. Zara was wearing shorts and a crop top, her skin glowing in the late afternoon sun, her coils loose about her head.
Peony was wearing an orange-and-pink swimsuit and a huge-ass grin directed at my best friend.
The woman I love but don’t deserve.
“I don’t deserve love, but I still want to be friends with you. Like before.”
Like before? How the fuck do I expect things to return to what they were before I knew how she tasted? Before I knew how right she felt tight around my cock? Before I knew how incredible she felt in my arms, her subtle jasmine scent teasing me?
Shit, I miss my daughter. And I miss Zara.
I lean my head on the headrest and close my eyes. I hadn’t meant to keep my distance from Zara since her bombshell. I’ve just been so busy with the damn book, with trying to be a good father, with the increase in my social media presence as I gear up for the release of Unfallen next month.
Each time I thought I could slip away to see Zara, something popped up and killed that plan.
Okay, maybe I was also stalling. Yes, we had great intentions when we started kissing and having sex—for stress release and pain reduction. But I never expected to fall in love with Zara. Both in college and then again years later.
Or maybe I never stopped loving her for all those years in between. I just buried it deep down, kept myself in denial, afraid to ruin the good thing with Zara .
I open my eyes and send Kellan a text—so I can distract myself from thoughts of Zara for a moment.
Me: Did you find the form?
I’d been in a rush to get to the airport and forgot to drop the grant application off at his house. He had texted while I was on my flight, asking where I’d put the form.
I look up and my thoughts about the form come to a sudden standstill. Cassie is walking on the sidewalk, her long blond hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves. She hasn’t changed much in the years since I last saw her—back when her husband was alive.
While she might not have changed, the two kids with her have. The youngest is now eight and is a mini version of her mother. The boy is ten and looks so much like his father, it feels like a ballpoint pen is stabbing my heart.
Cooper’s daughter skips along, appearing carefree. His son and Cassie are laughing at something one of them said. They’re not what I was expecting after reading Austin’s letter.
That’s not to say they aren’t hurting from Cooper’s death, but they seem to have done a better job moving forward than Austin let on. Better than he is doing.
I climb out of the rental car and approach the trio. Cassie doesn’t pay much attention to me at first. She’s listening to what her son is saying. Then her eyes meet mine, and surprise and recognition widen them. “Garrett?”
A hesitant smile forms on my face. “Hey, Cassie.”
Her smile is not hesitant. It grows wide and welcoming, and she hugs me like we did all those years ago.
She’s the same woman I frequently chatted with when her husband and I were deployed and Skyping with our families.
I would jokingly interrupt his conversations with his wife, and he would do the same when I was talking to Zara.
She takes a step back and playfully looks me over. “I see being a bestselling author hasn’t changed you at all.”
“I’m sure my drill sergeant would disagree. He’d probably claim I’ve gone soft. ”
She snorts a laugh and invites me into the house.
I remove my shoes and follow her down the hallway to the kitchen.
Framed photos cover the walls. Photos of the kids as they have gotten older.
Photos of Cassie and Cooper together. Photos of a happy family, with an expectant mother, and a father, and their toddler son.
Some of the photos I’ve seen before. Many are new.
Cassie suggests the kids go play a game, and they run off into the living room.
The kitchen looks pretty much like I remember, although the walls are now pale yellow. The pine furniture is the same, maybe a little more scratched with use.
“So, what’s new with you lately, Garrett? Any other women in your life? Or have you finally realized Zara is your soulmate?” She walks to the fridge, pulls out a beer, and hands it to me.
I take it from her. “Thanks.”
We sit at the table, and I tell her about Peony, show her the photo of Kenda’s and my daughter. The combined noise of a computer game and the kids’ laughter from the other room creates a background soundtrack to Cassie’s and my conversation.
“Oh, she’s adorable! Who’s looking after her while you’re here? Zara?”
The doorbell rings as I’m about to answer. Cassie pushes to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”
While she’s gone, the competitive, teasing banter between her two kids keeps me company, and I drink some beer.
A man’s voice reaches the kitchen, the words indistinguishable. Cassie laughs, the sound of it growing closer.
The moment he steps into the room, I recognize who he is.
The asshole who’s been mailing the letters.
His gaze lands on me as I stand from the chair, and a ferocious storm blows into his expression. Without warning, he charges across the room and swings a fist at my face.