Page 150 of Choosing Forever
She was supposed to get rid of this stuff. All of it. I even watched her throw it in the garbage when I had caught on to the fact that she still hadn’t gotten rid of it three years after I came home. Yet here it is.
It’s heavy . . . the leather clean and smooth when I lift it and hold it in front of me. I turn it over and stare at his name again. Ishould have given these things back years ago. They were never mine to keep in the first place. I was holding on to them while we were apart, as if a jersey and bulky jacket would have ever been able to make me feel like he was with me. All it did was remind me that he wasn’t.
“What are you doing, Delaney?” I ask myself, sighing as I stand and slip the jacket on.
It weighs me down more than I already am, but God, it feels good. It’s a piece of our past that I couldn’t seem to rid myself of. My grandma was a stubborn woman, but she loved me. She loved me enough to risk this coming back to haunt our relationship because she was that confident that I’d be grateful one day, and she was right to be.
I clutch the sides of the jacket and pinch my brows together when something pokes my arm. Wiggling, I try to dislodge whatever it is, but it doesn’t budge. With a frown, I take the jacket off and give it a shake.
The letter that falls out of the left sleeve makes me laugh. It’s a wet laugh, the kind that aches worse than any other.
I unfold the paper and cross my legs before reading.
Dear my Laney,
How mad are you at me right now? Is there steam shooting from your ears, or hot tears splashing and smudging my perfect handwriting?
Whichever it is, I’m just grateful that you’re reading this at all. Since you are, that means you’ve finally found the box of things you thought I got rid of but never could. Honestly, I can’t believe you thought thatIof all people would have allowed you to discard the things that mean the most to you in the world, but that’s not my point.
The point of this letter is this—stop running. From this town, your great love, and the past you’ve tried to forget about because of them both. Before you sit there and scoff at me, I need you to keep reading.
Delaney Marie Brooks has never needed a man. She is strong, proud, and cutthroat when it comes to those she loves. But, my girl, you didn’t simply meetaman. You mettheman. Yourone. And I’ve watched you both find yourself, and lose yourself with and because of him. I’ve watched you feel every emotion that one can hope to feel in their life. Love, heartache, loneliness, comfort. I’ve also watched you ache and bleed. You’ve yearned, and dreamt, and wished for something to change or just one chance to go back in time.
Darren hurt you, sweetheart. But every great love endured heartache. Youdeserveto live out yours because you’ve been lucky enough to find it.
If you haven’t ripped this into pieces yet and swore my name, please stay for a few more lines.
Don’t let your story be over. Not yet. You need at least a few more chapters.
I guess, if I had one dying wish, that would be it. For you to offer him a second chance, now that you’re both grown up and know who exactly you are, and who you need each other to be.
Maybe it will end in an epilogue, or maybe it will be cut short. I’m just begging you, Laney, at leastgo see him. Speak to him just once and see for yourself that what I’m saying is true.
I miss you, angel. And I love you no matter what, even if I’m not there to pull you into my arms right now.
Yours,
Grandma
47
DELANEY
I’ma firm believer in only using sick days when you’re really ill, but for the last two days, I’ve used mine without being curled in front of a toilet bowl. I’ve called in to work because I’ve needed to think, and I can’t do that clearly with Abbie sitting in front of me.
My grandma’s letter is on my lap. I’ve read it twenty times, and each time makes me cry harder, her words stabbing deeper into my chest as they sink in. It’s like I can hear her voice as I read the words, and I could really, really use her right now. She’d know exactly what to say after what happened.
If her letter is anything to go off, she’d throw me in my car and drag me to Darren’s house herself. The old woman always was a romantic. Her romance books remain untouched in the spare room, beckoning me to sort through them nearly every day. I’ve been dusting them for her, as if she’ll come back and haunt me for letting them get dirty.
I glance across the living room at the armchair and the letterman jacket thrown over the back of it. Groaning, I reach for where I chucked my phone when Poppy called. Her voicemail joined the other unanswered ones that I haven’t had it in me to listen to yet.
I’m hiding, and everyone can see it. My only saving grace is that unless Darren shared it with the town, nobody knows but us and Sasha. I’m just hoping that he at least warned her off from doing that.
That woman . . . she drives me crazy. First, it was her trying to make herself Darren’s partner in every high school class we all shared, then her obnoxious cheering on the sidelines at his games, and for the big hitter, getting pregnant with his baby and getting to call herself his wife.
Sasha’s always wanted Darren, but I never considered her a threat. No woman was. Not really. My unwavering belief in a future with him kept me naïve to the people who were judging from the outside. One minute, I was in love, and the next, I was having that love thrown back in my face.
It would be easier to just let this go and call it quits now. Abbie wouldn’t be affected in the ways Sasha was right to question, and I can finally use this as motivation to finish with Grandma’s house and move on. I could start over somewhere nobody knows me. Maybe in Vancouver or out East. My parents would travel to visit me anywhere just as frequently as they do Cherry Peak, and my friends . . . they’d understand.
