Page 95 of Come Back to Me

We ride in silence back to the ranch, and somehow, withthis man I’ve always written long letters to, always had so much to say to, I’m out of words.

Letter

Cody,

You’ll never receive this letter because I’m only writing it to clear my thoughts.

There are no words to describe the pain I’m in right now. Pain that you caused with your lies.

I want to scream at you, but I can’t.

You make my head hurt, but that’s nothing to my heart.

I watched you sleep in the den last night. I could tell you were exhausted. Is that because of me? I kind of hope that it is.

Okay, that’s cruel.

But you’ll never read this so I can be mean, damn it!

I don’t really want you to feel like I do. At least, I’m pretty sure I don’t.

Because if you do, then that means you felt the same way about me as I did you and you still tossed me aside.

I hate you for what you’ve done to me. For how you made me feel. I hate that you reduced me to a throwaway goodbye.

I thought we were friends.

I thought we were building something that’d last a lifetime. It didn’t have to be romantic. We could have just been pen pals.

Why was I so discardable to you?

I had hoped to meet you someday, but I didn’t really expect it. It wasn’t as if our friendship hinged on our meeting. I’d have written to you until the day I died. Or you did.

As much as you make me want to scream, the prospect of you dying, even sixty years in the future, is like someone has taken my heart in their fist and is squeezing, hard.

I think that’s the point.

You hurt me so badly that I don’t know what to do with myself.

I’ve been on so many dates.

I’ve lost friends—literally.

But this...

I’m not sure if I can forgive you for this.

Christy

Tee

Three days later

“What has your panties in such a bunch? Is it to do with whatever made you cancel Saturday dinner?” Nonna inquires, peering over the skein of yarn as I help her wind it into a ball.

“He doesn’t deserve your pasta.”

“So, it’s a man problem.”

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