Page 129 of Worth Every Risk

“Thank you,” I say, and wait for her to leave, but she doesn’t move.

“Open it.”

I frown. “Right now?”

“Yes. I have instructions to stay while you read it.”

“Instructions? From whom?”

Mrs Minter’s lips squeeze together as though I’m testing her patience. She’s got to be twenty years older than me, and right now I feel every one of them, like she’s a school mistress reprimanding me for some mistake I’m not aware I’ve made. “Read it,” she repeats.

“Fine.” I prop my tennis racket against the sofa and rip the letter open.

Matt,

Thank you for allowing me to send you healing. I’ve done it every night since you visited, and in a curious way—as it always goes with energy healing—I feel I know you much better than our one-time meeting allowed.

You’re a sceptic, and that’s fine. You don’t need to believe for this kind of thing to work. Even when we can’t see it, things are changing in the unseen dimension. Shifting. Altering. The power of intention cannot be underestimated. I have felt the discharge of your anger and know the burden of pain has lessened. Do you feel changed, Matt?

Aries is different. Heartbroken, but also changed on a soul level. I know, you see. I can feel it. Sense it. I used to worry she might never be able to love or let herself fall, but I was wrong. There have been tears, of course, but tears aren’t always a bad thing. We must grieve before we can heal.

I know your heart is broken as clearly as I know Aries’ is. This will seem far-fetched to a man like you, but there it is. I truly hope the two of you can work out whatever came between you. When there is a connection like the one you have, I know you will. If not in this lifetime, then in the next.

I wish you well, whatever the future holds. And thank you for letting me get to know you better.

Josephine McClennon

My mind spins. Pins and needles prickle over my skin, like I’m going numb, yet pain spikes between my ribs at the same time. My hand hits my breastbone before I have a moment to question the motion.

Never in my life have I received such a bizarre letter. Every line reads like a joke. If I hadn’t met Aries’ mother, I’d think this was a prank. But at the same time, there’s an accuracy to it I can’t deny. I do feel different. And my heart…fuck. Yes. It’s fucking broken and I’m doing my best to ignore it. To carry on.

Mrs Minter clears her throat, reminding me I’m not alone. I glance up to find her staring, a concerned expression on her face.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, holding the letter out to her.

“Aries’ mother sent it to me. It arrived yesterday. I don’t know why it’s so late.”

Late?“Is she expecting an answer? Do I write back?”

Mrs Minter swallows. “Matt,” she says my name slowly, and a sense of foreboding spreads across my shoulders, creeping all the way down to my lower back. “Aries’s mother died. Much sooner than we expected.”

“When?”

“Last week. The funeral is on Wednesday. First of October.”

We’ll tell the kids in October. A horrid, sinking sensation plunges through me, stealing my breath and making me dizzy. I want to grab onto something, to find something to anchor me. I rest my hand on the back of the sofa, digging my fingertips into Gemma’s fucking designer fabric. “Thank you for telling me.”

39

ARIES

October first. The day we put my mother in the ground.

As the coffin is lowered, it begins to rain. Smir, as we call it in Scotland. A hazy drizzle that feels like the soul of the west coast. It cools my skin, soothing the tearing pain in my chest as I take out my wallet and pull out the folded up note Mum gave me before I went to London. It’s soft with wear, the paper splitting in the folds. I read it one last time.

Aries’ London To Do List.

1. Live

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