Page 41 of Free to Breathe
Ali begins pacing, which is never a good sign. Finally, she speaks. “Were you going to tell us just about your problem with Colby before you saw him, or were you going to tell us everything?”
I lean back against a wall and sigh. “Everything, Ali, I swear. What I was waiting on were the test results. The only thing I didn’t expect to tell you about tonight was the letters.” I nod over toward the island where the box still sits, waiting for me. “Then again, I had no idea they existed.”
Ali stops her agitated motion. “Do you want me to stay while you open them?”
I appreciate her generous offer, knowing she needs to go home to Keene and Kalie, and to release her emotions. I shake my head. “No, hon. You need to head home. I’ll call you if I need anything.”
Ali’s gives me her best courtroom intimidating glare. “Promise?”
I reach for her hand. “I promise. I’m not hiding anything else.” I give her fingers a sharp squeeze and tell her, “Go. Go give Kalie a kiss for me, and go tell your intimidating hunk this hasn’t impacted my aim yet.”
Ali barks out a laugh before a tear falls down her face. “Knowing Keene, he’d welcome being a target for your anger and frustration if you need it, baby.” Giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, she murmurs, “I love you, Cori. Call for anything, no matter how big or small.”
“I will,” I whisper. I need some time to absorb everything that’s happened today. Between the news of my imminent surgery, Jack’s betrayal, my family finding out, and Colby, I just need to do what I can to nourish my soul.
Ali peers into my eyes one last time, then sweeps out my door. I close it softly behind her.
Finally, I’m alone—as alone as I can be with a million thoughts circling my brain for space in an attempt to make some order of the path my life has taken.
I’ve had my quota of life-changing events for the day, but something is pulling me toward the box on the table. The neurons and synapses firing away are telling me to open that box instead of figuring out how my part of the business will operate while I’m out on medical leave.
One letter, I promise myself as I make my way back to the counter. Just one.
Pulling the box toward me, I spin it around and rest my hands on the lid a moment.
Just one, I repeat.
I take off the lid, put it to the side, and pull out the letter closest to me, dated over ten years ago.Well, here goes nothing. Slipping my nail under the flap, I slice the envelope open with a flourish.
I slide out the thick sheets of paper and briefly close my eyes.You can do this, Cori, I promise myself.
What can be in these letters that can hurt you now?
* * *
Seven hoursand thirty-seven letters later, I know the answer.
Love. Hope. Loyalty. Faith. They can hurt just as much as a betrayal.
I stumble into my office to find a pen and paper, as a batch of caramel chocolate brownies finishes in my oven. After making my way back into the kitchen, I start a new pot of coffee, having drunk a full one overnight. Hearing the timer go off, I pull the brownies from the oven and leave them to cool on a rack, knowing they need to be just right to pack up.
I’m barely awake when I sit down with the pen and paper in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I start.
“Dear Colby…”
21
Colby
The next morning, I’m at my desk, signing off on the overtime report for the Charlotte Collins rescue, when there’s a light tap at my door. Without looking up, I yell, “Come in,” as I continue to mutter at the time sheet on my screen.
Seriously, I need to ask Caleb and Keene if they pay the guys to go out drinking to celebrate. Otherwise, I’m going to have a fuck load of timesheets to reject this week. Cursing rabidly, I don’t even notice the door silently open or the footfalls approaching my desk.
I do notice the smell. Chocolate caramel brownies. My head snaps up, and standing before me is obviously a hallucinatory reward from staring at spreadsheets for way too long.
“Corinna,” I breathe, not wanting to disrupt the fantasy in front of me. Her long hair is down around her face. She pushes it out of her face with one hand, while the other holds something containing the scent that is wafting through my office.
Since I figure I’m dreaming, it’s awfully nice of me to put her in a low-cut, loose, brown knit shirt with a wide collar falling off her shoulder. One that’s not covered in flour or icing. Pushing back in my chair, I notice she has on a pair of ankle boots with well-fitted jeans instead of her trademark Chucks.
