Page 20 of The Dragon's Mate Proposal

“Memories,” she finished when I couldn’t.

“Yes.” My voice was all but a whisper.

I stepped away from Samantha, moving to the huge double doors at the back of the house. Vines had crept up over them, blocking what had been one of my favorite views. Eager to try to restore something I remembered, I opened the door. The rain and wind gusted inside, bringing with it dead leaves and other bits of foliage, but I didn’t notice.

I yanked the vines down and tossed them aside, swiftly clearing the doorframe of any blockage.

“You’re letting in the water!” Samantha called.

Job done, I stepped back inside, closing both doors, staring out their glass. In the distance, I could just make out the path that led to one of my favorite places on the property. Like everything else, it was mostly overgrown. But I could see it.

“I don’t think a bit more water is going to do much harm,” I said, trying to laugh as I joked about the condition of the house. “Do you?”

There was no reply.

“Or not.”

Still no reply.

“Samantha?” I called, turning, wondering if she’d ducked deeper into the house without me.

But she was still there. Only her attention was focused on something on the table. Something that was turning her skin ghostly white.

“Look,” she whispered, pointing.

Striding over to her, I came to a rigid halt as my eyes spied what she’d seen.

It was a letter on the table.

And it was addressed to me.

Chapter Eleven

Cade

“Read it,” she urged excitedly.

I didn’t reach for it. My feelings did not mirror her own. Who had left it? It was clearly aged, but just how long had it been sitting there? Nobody had been there in over a decade.

And why me?

I clenched a fist, forcing my hand to stay still. Curiosity waged war with fear.

“Come on, open it,” Samantha urged, picking it up and thrusting the letter at me.

I almost backed away but managed to steel myself in time to avoid showing any sort of weakness when what I truly wanted to do was burn the letter and leave the house. It was a mistake to return. I should have stayed away. I didn’t belong.

“Cade,” Samantha said, waggling the letter. “Whoever left this here for you did it for a reason. They knew you would come back at some point. They wanted you to read it, to know what’s said in here. Don’t be rude.”

I looked up at her sharply. Did she understand the implication she was making? That I would be disrespecting the memory of whatever dead hand penned the letter? No, it was impossible. Perhaps she guessed someone had died, but there was no way she could know the full truth.

“If you don’t open it, I will,” she said with a shrug. “It’s your choice, though.”

Reaching out, I took the letter. Whatever was in there, it was best I read it first. Samantha didn’t need to hear about any of the family dirty laundry if that’s what it contained.

My finger twitched, tearing the envelope open. There was no going back now. Slowly, I slid the paper from its enclosure. It was a single sheet, folded three times to make it fit. The paper was yellowed, and the ink was starting to fade, but it was still legible enough.

Cade.

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