Page 60 of No Broken Promises

“No,” I say a little bit too quickly. “But I found something, and your brother took off when I tried to ask him about it. I just don’t want to be alone right now. Not with everything I just found out, and there’s some shit that I need to process.”

Kennedy takes a deep breath and blows it out loudly in my ear. “Fine. But I want it noted for the record that Remy is an idiot. Like always. I don’t even know why I asked where you are. Of course you’re at his house. You and Nox pretty much live there now.” She huffs. “I’m on my way. But I’m bringing my machete just in case. You never know when the chance to become a serial killer is gonna present itself. Either that, or I’ll get to chop off my brother’s pinky toe for making me get up in the middle of the night to deal with his bullshit.” She hangs up without saying goodbye, and I go back to staring at the first of the letters.

The scrawled 1 in the corner makes me curious, so while I wait for Kennedy to show up, I rifle through the box. Letter after letter, all addressed to me, and every single one of them numbered sequentially, lie there perfectly in order. Some are wrinkled, others torn, but their presence means everything to me.

Stupid Remy, walking out the door when all I wanted was him to answer me. I thought about calling him, telling him to come back, but clearly he needs time alone.

These letters are obviously supposed to be a secret.

I pace the floor in front of the couch, back and forth, with my eyes never leaving the box of letters. Unsure of what else I can do, I run my hands up and down my arms, trying to catch my breath and stay focused.

What if he had written them to tell me that he hated me?

I need the truth. I need to know what secrets they hold, but I can’t open them alone. The content of those letters has the power to ruin everything I want in life. I want Remy, even if I happen to be pissed at him for the moment.

Lights shining in the window announce Kennedy’s arrival, and a minute later, the front door swings open to reveal her standing there like an Amazon. Her red hair sits on top of her head in a very messy bun that does a terrible job of holding her hair back. She is wearing a black tank top and a pair of black leggings, with a pair of bright-purple Muck boots on her feet. To top off her look is a foot-long machete that she holds like a baseball bat in her hand.

“Alrighty,” she growls menacingly, her eyes darting around the room wildly. “Let’s get chopping.”

Kennedy’s ridiculousness has definitely grown to new heights with her lack of sleep.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Then again, I am pacing around the living room, afraid to open a letter.

“Yeah.” She drops the machete on the coffee table next to the box of letters and picks one up. “Damn!” Kennedy whistles. “There must be a hundred letters in here.” I watch her rifle through them and fight the urge to snap at her to leave them alone.

“I don’t want you to read them,” I tell her. “I want to read them. I just didn’t want to read them alone. I wanted someone here, just in case.”

“In case he said some more fucked-up shit?”

I nod. “Exactly.”

“Great.” Kennedy plops down on the floor in the living room, instead of taking a spot on the couch. “You start reading; I’m going back to sleep.”

Raising an eyebrow at her willingness to sleep literally anywhere, I sit down and do what she says.

“Throw me a pillow, though.”

I reach over to the other side of the couch and throw one of the decorative pillows Remy has at her head.

Kennedy doesn’t even bother trying to catch it. Instead, she lets it hit her in the face and then moves it under her head, mumbling about how much I suck.

Not bothering to answer her insults, I pick up the first letter again and take a deep breath as I open it by lifting the flap from the back. He hadn’t even sealed the envelope.

Inside, a single sheet of white paper sits, smudged and crumpled before being folded and stuck inside.

My heart rattles against my chest, beating discordantly, as I unfold the letter. Uncertainty wars within my heart and soul as I try to reconcile what I may find with the man that Remy has proven to me that he is.

Dear Parker,

I lied. I’m so fucking sorry. I lied all because I can’t let you lose me. I can’t be selfish when all you deserve is the chance to take the world and bend it to your will. Your tears always had the power to bring me to my knees, and I thought if I could just keep you from loving me, you wouldn’t give up everything for me. Watching you cry because of me… I think it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’m an idiot, because I thought if I pushed you away, if I hurt you just a little bit, that I’d save you in the long run. That I wouldn’t destroy you and make you hate me. And I’d do anything to keep you from crying over me like you did that night. I left you my bracelet so you’d know that I didn’t mean it. That I’d give anything to keep you in my life.

I lied. And I miss you. Please. Please forgive me. I’ll do anything to make it right.

Remy

There are already tears leaking out of my eyes as I finish reading the short missive.

“Such a stupid man,” I mutter. While I think about all the years we’ve lost, I fidget with the bracelet I still wear around my wrist, the one he’d given me as a kid.

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