Page 71 of Loving Lies (Granton University 3)

“But I did find this.”

When he pulled a folded sheet a paper from his pocket, Tess narrowed her eyes. “You stole from Jonah’s file? What if that was some kind of important information that could help that Sam lady get him better? What if—”

“It’s a letter addressed to you,” Paige cut in.

When Tess stopped talking and gaped, Logan added. “I saw that it was to you and from Jonah so I took it. But that’s all I read, I swear.”

Tess glanced between the two to see if they were pulling her leg. Finally, she shook her head and focused on Logan. “You stole a letter for me?”

“He did.” Paige bounced on her toes as a grin burst across her face. “Wasn’t that so bad-boy of him? I swear, he just got, like, ten times hotter.”

As Logan sent his girlfriend a heated grin, Tess leapt at him, clamoring for her letter. “Oh, my God, Logan. I love you.”

“Hey, hey.” Paige tugged him away just as Tess gained control of her letter. “That’s my hot bad boy. Go read about your own.”

But Tess was no longer listening to either of them. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded her letter and smoothed out the three creases in it. The heavy masculine scrawl that met her gaze made her heart thump hard in her chest.

“So, uh. I guess we’ll give you some privacy to read that.” Logan was already taking Paige’s hand and backing her from the room.

Tess heard Paige mutter “Good luck” before the door shut between them. Not that she really took much notice. She was too busy reading.

Dear Tess,

Hi. I don’t really know what to say. Sam just told me to write a letter to someone, and she kind of scares me, so I do what she says. Besides, her strange instructions actually help sometimes, so I guess I’ll just keep writing, but mostly because she’s watching me right now to make sure I don’t crap out on her.

I should probably start at the beginning. Since I left the hospital, I’ve been meeting with a therapist lady named Samantha. She’s a total pain in the ass and doesn’t actually like to be called a therapist. She says we’re just two people meeting for pizza every day, but she is really a therapist. I think she’s a good one too. I don’t feel as shitty as I did before I started “eating pizza” with her.

She’s helped me deal with pretty much everything. Except maybe you. I still miss you. I miss you so hard it sometimes makes my chest hurt until I can’t even breathe. I haven’t felt right since that day you stormed out of my hospital room.

Shit. I can’t believe I just wrote that. Pretty corny, huh? But Sam assured me no one—not even she—would read this. We’re going to have some ritualistic burning of the letter after our next pizza session. So maybe that’s why I’m being all lame and honest. I can “purge” as she called it and say any damn thing I want. I can say I LOVE YOU, TESS, in all bold caps, triple underlined and circled 5 times.

Wow, that did kind of make me feel better. What else can I tell you? There’s so much. I want to tell you about Sean. He was my best friend who was killed right in front of me during the shooting. Then there’s my parents. Einstein. Us. I want you to know why I was such an ass that last day in the hospital.

Now my mind is spinning, so I think I’ll start over at the beginning again.

When I woke up in the hospital, I was confused, and lost, and scared. I really did have amnesia for the first few days. And I still had it the first night you came to my room. I knew something was off then, but I was so grateful someone was there to see me, I believed what you told me. Because I wanted to.

I must’ve wanted to remember you so much your visit jostled my brain into getting my memories back. But the only memory I had of you was from seeing you across an open courtyard walking down the sidewalk with who I now know was Bailey. Your hair is hard to miss, even harder to forget. But I knew I’d never talked to you, and I knew you weren’t my girlfriend.

If you hadn’t come back the next night to see me, I probably would’ve owned up to remembering everything then. But you did come back, and I just wanted to spend a little more time with you.

I did wonder why you were doing it, why you were lying and pretending to be my girl, but I knew without a doubt it wasn’t for any reason with bad intentions. You were too good and sweet and innocent for that. With every visit, you made me better, made me fall a little bit harder, made me fake my amnesia just a little bit longer. Any extra time I could get with you was worth a few more lies.

I hope you don’t hate me for all the liberties I took, but while we were together, you did become my girlfriend. You were the only thing I had and the reason I wanted to keep going.

When the truth came out and everything went down between us, I lied to you again. I didn’t believe any of the accusations I made. I never thought anything bad about you. And everything we had shared was true. But I was scared, and not just for me. My life was shit. I was falling to rock bottom. When I hit, I didn’t want you to land with me. I didn’t want you to get hurt.

I knew you’d want to be there with me, though, while they laughed at me on national television and announced to the world that getting shot three times was the least of what I deserved. You didn’t need that kind of attention on you. You deserve to be cherished and loved, not known as the infamous girlfriend of a national bully.

Yeah, I’ve been told—by a lot of people—that it wasn’t my place to make that decision for you. I should’ve given you the opportunity to make it on your own. But it felt like it was the only thing I could do for you, to pay you back for saving me. I wouldn’t have made it through these past few weeks if I hadn’t had my memories of you. You’ve given me a reason to live. So I tried to save you from me.

Wow, Sam was right. Letter writing is pretty cleansing.

So, I’ll start at another beginning. You saw where I grew up, in the Whispering Pines trailer park, right? I still can’t believe you went there all by yourself to see them, just for me. But you were right about my dad. He’s an abusive SOB. He would beat my mom all the time. When I got old enough to defend her, I did. So he’d turn on me and hit me, too.

In high school, I got big enough that I could actually take him in a fight. Near the beginning of my junior year, he started in on my mom one night for forgetting to pay a bill, which caused the electricity to go out. I thought he was going to kill her. When I came home from football practice, she was already bloody and curled up half-dead in the fetal position on the floor, but he still just kept kicking her. So, I took him down. Both my parents ended up in the hospital that night, and I was thrown in juvie.

When they released me, I went back home to pack my shit and get my mom. But she refused leave him and wouldn’t go with me. It broke my heart that she chose him over me. As I walked away, my dad yelled at me to never come back. And that was fine with me. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since. You may think I’m awful, but I have no desire to visit or talk to them again. That door, for me, is closed.

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