Page 79 of Every Promise Broken

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, unable to look at him. I feel way too flayed open right now.

After a while, I get up and fix us a snack while we finish watching whatever awful movie is playing. Being here is still uncomfortable, but something feels like it shifted between us. Like we have a newfound understanding of one another. By the time I leave, I feel lighter.

Driving over to the ranch, my stomach is in knots, but I know whatever happens here, whatever we talk about today… I think maybe everything might be okay.

I park in front of the barn like I always do, beside Conrad’s truck, and as I climb out, I notice a handwritten sign on the barn door. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I walk over to read what it says, my chest tightening as I do.

Whit: Please enter. Inside you will find something for you.

Scanning the yard, I don’t see Conrad anywhere. What the hell is going on? On shaky legs, I drag open the door and walk through the threshold, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. When I take a right and head into the office, I stop in my tracks as I take in the scene before me.

In the center of the room, there’s a round table with a deep red tablecloth draped over it, and two chairs around it. On top of the table, there’s a long-stem candle that’s already burning, two place settings, and what looks like an envelope placed on top of one of the plates. Glancing all around again, like I may find Conrad creeping around the corner, I walk over to the tableand grab the envelope. My name is scrawled across the front in Conrad’s handwriting, and I brush my fingers over the messy cursive as I picture him sitting down to write this.

My heart is in my throat as I open the envelope and take out the folded paper. It feels like I may throw up; I’m so nervous. My eyes find the date in the top, right-hand corner, and my knees nearly collapse when I see it was dated four years ago.

Dear Whit,

I don’t knowwhat I’m doing or what I plan to write, I just know I need to do this. It’s been a whole week since you left. If I’m being honest, I selfishly and ignorantly assumed you would come back after a few hours. When you didn’t come back that night, I figured by morning, you’d certainly drive down our gravel road. You’d park beside my truck, and we’d go back to normal.

You didn’t, and honestly, I can’t say that I blame you. You don’t deserve the way I’ve treated you for the last year. Most days, I don’t even recognize the man looking back at me in the mirror. I don’t know who I’ve become, but I’m disgusted with myself. I could easily blame it on the death of my parents. Something that traumatic and sudden is bound to mess somebody up, but I refuse to do that. Not to you. You don’t deserve my excuses.

You deserve the world.

You deserve the moon, the sun, and every single star in the sky.

You deserve so much more than the man I’ve become.

I know this, and yet, I can’t bring myself to let you go. I don’t know how I’m supposed to move through life without you by my side.

I’ve spent the last seven days a shell of a man. I’ve been angry, and hurt, and drunk, but it’s my fault. If I could go back in time, I would cherish you the way you deserve to be cherished. I would let you hold me the way you begged for months to do. I’d tell you how hollow I feel without my parents here. How angry I feel about them being gone. How resentful I am with them leaving me all of this responsibility. I’d tell you how guilty I feel for being angry with them. If I could go back in time, I would learn to get over myself long enough to let you in.

But I can’t. I can’t go back in time, nor can I fix what I’ve already done. I’ve lost you. Lost the one bright, shining light amongst my sea of darkness, and I have nobody to blame but myself. I can’t blame my parents. I can’t blame you. It’s only me.

I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, Whit.

I hope you’re able to find the happiness you deserve now that you’re free of me. I hope one day you’re able to forgive me for all the hurt I’ve caused you. Not for me, because Lord knows I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but for yourself.

But most of all, I need you to know that I’m going to get help, Whit. I’m going to become a better man, become the man you know I can be. I’m going to work on myself and become the man you deserve. And when I do, I’m going to fall to your feet and beg for your forgiveness.

You are it for me, Whit. You are my end all be all. You’re my calm creek, my soothing lullaby. You are my comfort, my stability. The air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I will be deserving of your love again one day, I promise you that.

I am so, so sorry for the hurt I’ve put you through.

I love you to the end of the Earth, but until I’m deserving of those words, I will leave you alone. I will give you the space you need to heal, because it’s not your job to fix me. You don’t deserve to be my punching bag. But mark my words… one day, we will be together again. Better than ever. One day, I will be deserving of your light once again.

Love forever,

Connie

Tears blurmy vision as I reread the last paragraph. As I take in the moisture stains on the years’ old paper. As I imagine him writing this after I left. The pain he must’ve felt, the courage he needed to find to even put these words out. The way he never gave this to me.

Footsteps sound behind me, and when I turn around, my gaze finds Conrad’s. The sight of him steals my breath away. He looks so handsome standing before me in a fresh white pearl-snap shirt, bolo tie, a pair of dark, snug fit Wranglers, and his fancy boots and hat.

The floodgates open, and I can’t hold back the tears anymore. They fall hot down my face as we gaze at one another.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmurs, voice gruff, sending a shiver down my spine.

My throat aches as moisture wets my cheeks. Raw emotion clutches my chest as I try to make sense of what’s happening. Hands trembling, I look down at the letter, then back up to Conrad.

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