Page 84 of Broken Hearts

“A hibiscus,” he says, nodding. “It’s his favorite because of you. I always wondered why he loved them so much, but now I know. It was you all along.”

“You ready to do this?” I ask him, and he nods, turning my envelope over in my hand, he reaches up and stills me, his hand resting over mine.

I hand him Alana’s letter, and he sets it down on the table beside him, leaving it there. I don’t know what his plan is for her letter, but I leave that for him. There’s no one better to know what Alana needs than him.

“Hang on,” he says.

Nate slips his hand into mine, weaving our fingers together as he leads me out of his house and across the street to the empty beach.

It’s hard to believe a beach this gorgeous, this serene could be empty, but it’s a local’s beach, a beach that the people of this little town love and cherish, a beach where my father would surf every morning, a beach that will always hold a special place in my heart.

“Here,” Nate says, sitting down in the sand, his legs crossed, his letter in his hand. “Mitch’s favorite place.”

I nod, swallowing back the lump that forms in my throat. This trip has been a test of my emotions at every turn, and this will be no different.

“You go first,” Nate says, and as much as I want to argue with him, to tell him I’m not ready, he’s not ready either. I’ll take this one for us, letting him adjust to the idea of opening his letter.

The fact that he wants me here when he reads his is huge. The growth it shows is tremendous, and I hope I can be here to support him in the way he needs.

I slide my finger under the seal, pulling out the handwritten letter. I bring it up to my nose and smell it, smiling when I catch the whiff of surf wax. It lingers on everything he touches.

“Blueberry,” Nate whispers, and I nod, letting my head fall onto his shoulder. He slips his arm around my waist, holding me close, the warmth of his body soothing.

And I begin to read.

My dearest Sage,

If you’re reading this, I’ve passed away, but don’t be sad. Hawaiian tradition says we don’t mourn the dead but celebrate them.

I want you to know that not a day went by when I wasn’t thinking about you. You were and always will be the most important thing in my life. I loved you more than life itself. More than the shop. More than surfing. More than the ocean. You were the greatest gift I was ever given.

I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become, and everything you will do and have done with your life is special and amazing and important.

Never dwell on what was, look forward to your life.

Fall in love.

Dream of happiness.

Share your kindness.

And most of all, smell the hibiscus.

I love you.

Dad

I’m sobbing by the time I reach the end. Tears stream down my cheeks in endless rivers. Clinging to Nate, I cry into his T-shirt. And he holds me. Just holds me and lets me cry.

I hold Sage against me,knowing that whatever her dad has written for her, these are the last words he’s ever going to say to her. The last words she is ever going to get from him. And I can’t even imagine how fucking hard that must be. God knows I am terrified to read my letter.

“You okay?” I eventually ask, even though I know that’s probably the dumbest thing I could ask her.

Sage sniffs, lifting her head as she swipes her fingers across her cheeks. I cup her face in my hands, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“I wish I got more time with him,” she whispers against my mouth.

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close. “I know, me too,” I tell her. “And I feel like an asshole for saying that because I got to see him every day for the last nine years.”

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