Page 76 of The Consequence of Loving Me

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Liams,

You don’t know me, but I recently came into possession of items I think you might be interested in. You might be wondering why a delivery driver just showed up at your workplace with six random boxes, but I promise you I think you will prize what’s inside them.

In the boxes are paintings that somebody very close to me created. They mean a lot to me, and I think they’ll mean a lot to you as well. You see, the person who painted these is a girl I think I’m in love with. A girl that your son, Connor, was also in love with. Her name is Veronica Cunningham.

She painted these in a very vulnerable moment for her. It was the night she came clean to me about what happened to your son. I need to add before I continue any further that I am so very sorry about what happened. Hearing Veronica talk about your son let me know that he was a very special young man. But I also gathered that she holds a lot of guilt for what happened to your son, and to be honest, it’s killing me to see her live like this.

If there is any part of you that doesn’t blame her for what happened to your son, I beg you to look at the paintings she recently completed. And I mean really look at them, because if you do, I think you’ll also see how truly and utterly sorry she is for her part in what happened to Connor.

So, please, look at these paintings with the mentality that she loved your son with every part of her, and know that she is still devastated by what happened to him.

Please look at them and find forgiveness for her, because I don’t think she’s realized this yet, but she needs that from you more than she would ever admit.

Now, it kind of pains me to do this because I don’t know what kind of people you are, and I didn’t buy these paintings just so they could be a talking piece at some rich folks’ boring dinners, but I want you to do with these paintings as you wish.

Part of me hopes you’ll keep at least two of them, and the other part hopes you’ll auction off the rest to earn money for the charity in Connor’s name. I’ve done a lot of research on everything your organization has done, and it’s something I would love to donate to in Veronica’s name.

Please don’t tell Veronica I contacted you. I know she will probably figure it out for herself, but I don’t want her to think I did this to get her to love me back. I didn’t even really do it for her, I did it for your son. I did it for Connor. Because he and I apparently have a lot in common. He loved Veronica truly, madly, deeply; I can tell just from the way she talks about him. And I want to make sure his death makes a difference. Because I am also truly, madly, deeply in love with the woman he loved, and I want to make sure their love lives on through his charity.

So, do with these paintings as you will. They are yours now. Just please, make sure Veronica finds a way to forgive herself. And please, make sure whoever buys these paintings truly appreciates them.

Maverick

* * *

I read over the letter three times before I finally set it down on the coffee table in front of me.

Fucking Maverick.

I can’t handle him.

I don’t know what to do with his love for me—but I know I won’t turn it away again.

I don’t know how I’ve been lucky enough to have not one, but two selfless men love me, but I won’t take it for granted twice.

So, for once, when I decide to run, I run toward someone instead of away from them.

I exchange goodbyes with the Liams, and then with my parents, and I book the first flight back to Kansas, even though it’s the day before New Year’s Eve and the airport is bound to be packed.

This time, nothing will stop me from fighting for the man I love.

42

Maverick

Our house is filled to the brim with drunk twenty-somethings. Aspen and I have very different definitions on what a small get together is, but here I am, on New Year’s Eve, avoiding people in my own backyard. It’s cold enough that I can see my breath each time I breathe out.

It’s almost midnight and I wish I was beginning the new year with Veronica by my side. It’s been over a month since she fled from me—from us—and the wound still hurts. I still miss her.

I wish she wasn’t halfway across the country from me tonight.

The Liams called a week ago.

They told me how much Veronica’s paintings raised for Connor’s Ocean. I had to brace myself against the kitchen counter when I heard the total.

She did that.

Her work did that for Connor.

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