Page 51 of All Because of You

Was it too cold? Maybe. She’d started with an attempt to lighten the tension sure to be between them.You still picking me up at nine tonight after your meeting? LOL. Kidding. Unless you are? Either way, we should talk.

But that had seemed too jovial, making light of the situation.

Man, she was seriously overthinking this. Before she could change her mind altogether about sending the revised text, she did it then slid her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and plopped onto the couch in her aunt’s living room.

Madison’s eyes locked on her suitcase. Despite her newfound determination to come back to Walker Beach last Friday, she’d stayed in Los Angeles all weekend, working up the courage to return. It wasn’t terribly responsible of her to leave the hardware store closed when people might have needed tools and supplies, but they’d been without one for months after Chrissy died, so they could survive an extra week. And since fighting Monday rush-hour traffic out of Los Angeles this morning, she couldn’t force herself to open the store today.

Tomorrow then. And every day thereafter until the store’s landlord forced her to close in six or so weeks. After that, who knew? The idea of giving up the hardware store still rankled, still felt a bit like failure, but she’d started to examine her reasons for keeping it. If she were determined to start letting in others, then listening to their advice and insights was part of that. Evan and Ashley had questioned whether the right place for her was the hardware store. Perhaps she should have considered what they’d said instead of immediately refuting it.

Whatwasshe going to do? Taking in the ocean-themed art on the wall, smelling the eucalyptus in the air, Madison’s heart twisted. Could she really sell Aunt Chrissy’s house? She definitely didn’t need three bedrooms, she could use the money that selling it would bring, and the idea of roommates gave her the heebie-jeebies. Besides, who knew how long it would take to find a job here? She had a text in with Ashley to inquire about the librarian position, but the last time they’d spoken about it her friend had said it might take several months for the job to become available, if ever. Ash wasn’t likely to have an update to offer.

No, moving back here was a leap of faith, pure and simple. Because there were no guarantees about so many things—not that Madison would find work she loved or that she’d feel accepted here or even that she’d be able to make things right with Evan.

Definitely no guarantees on that last one.

But this was home. And the only guarantee was that she’d always regret it if she left again.

Enough of all this introspection. She needed to do something, and packing Aunt Chrissy’s house was just the thing to keep her mind occupied while she waited for Evan to return her text.

She hauled herself off the couch and pulled out a few garbage bags from under the kitchen sink then walked down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Madison hadn’t been in there since returning home, and with one twist of the doorknob, one inhale of Chrissy’s favorite essential oil blend, one glance at her lilac bedspread, an unexpected ache overcame her. She slammed the door. Best to tackle that room when her heart wasn’t in such a fragile state.

The guest room where Madison had taken up residence since returning home would be the easiest place to start, but she turned instead toward her old bedroom. With a squeak of the door and a flick of the light, she took in the Jane Austen posters on the walls, the muted gray duvet, and the three empty bookcases that told her eighteen-year-old Madison had known she was never coming back.

Rustling bags in hand, she moved inside the room. It was fairly clean already, but surely the closet still contained junk to be sorted. A swing of the door proved Madison’s assumption correct, and she started in on the old clothes and shoes that she hadn’t worn in years.

The silence threatened to swallow her whole. An audiobook would be a nice way to pass the time. Pulling her phone from her pocket, Madison spied a text from Ashley.I’m so thrilled you’re back! Want to hear more but I’ve got a full week. The council is voting tonight on the emergency library budget. Will let you know how it pans out. Fingers crossed for the librarian position!

Madison squatted and rocked back on her heels. OK, then. Maybe she’d know sooner than later.

After flipping on her go-to audio version ofJane Eyre, Madison began rifling through boxes, finding mementos from high school. Awards for high academic achievement, dean’s list, and the like. Numerous half-finished poems when she’d gone through her beatnik phase. Yearbooks from all four years of high school—each one with only a handful of signatures andKeep in Touchsentiments strewn throughout.

As she waded through all the memories, her mind kept finding its way back to Evan. A tiny part of her still doubted his sincerity, but the rest of her mind drowned out the doubts. She couldn’t help but think about how real he’d seemed each time they’d interacted. The feel of his lips on hers. The way she fit into his arms like she’d been designed for it.

Madison pulled a shoebox from within a larger cardboard box. She opened the lid and gasped, nearly dropping the shoebox. Her eyes blinked in rapid flutters. Was she imagining things?

No, there were the letters from her high school pen pal.

From Evan.

But how? Aunt Chrissy must have saved them when Madison, in her rage, in her heartache, had tossed them into the garbage can ten years ago.

Her hand flew to her mouth at the realization then dove into the box to pick up the letter on top. Skimming at first, still unbelieving, she started to slow down her reading, to take in the words with fresh eyes, to savor each one.

Finally, she reached the last letter, amazed at the vulnerability she’d witnessed so far. But this one … it stirred her the most.

Dear Secret Pen Pal,

I feel like I need to come up with a different name for you—not because you aren’t a secret, because obviously you still are, but because you’ve become more than a pen pal to me. More than a pal. I hope that’s not too weird to say, considering we don’t know each other. Although, gotta say, you might know me more than anyone at the moment. How pathetic is that?

Cuz when I write to you, I’m not trying to impress you. I’m not trying to be the perfect son or the perfect friend or the perfect student (although I don’t want you to think I’m a complete idiot, so I do double-check that I’m spelling things right, ha ha). But yeah, with you, I can just be . . . I dunno, me, I guess. Sounds totally dumb, but in a world of fakes, this is the one place I can be real. With you.

So, thank you, Mystery Girl.

With that being said, would you want to meet sometime? No pressure. I wouldn’t want to meet me after all the stuff I’ve told you. But maybe?

If that’s something that sounds cool to you, then let’s meet after school on Friday at Froggies. I’ll wear a red baseball hat and have a copy ofPride & Prejudicein front of me since I know it’s your favorite. (Sorry, still haven’t read it. Pretty sure I’d lose my man card.)

Let me know what you think. Again, totally OK if you don’t want to do this. Just think about it. I know I’d love to meet you.

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