He stopped midstep and turned to face me. “You’re perfect.”
“I know.”
His eyes slowly ran over the length of my body when I stretched out on the couch, and I watched as his eyes got hooded, an unmistakable desire hitting them.
“Shower, Kash.”
“Right . . . uh, I’ll be back.”
I waited for a few minutes before letting my fingers run over the hardwood until they hit the used journal. Picking it up, I opened the cover and carefully worked back the binding until I felt the paper hidden inside. I never had gotten around to telling Kash about this in my entries to him. By the time I’d felt like I was in danger again, I couldn’t get to my journal. Unfolding the paper, I let my eyes fall over the tear-stained letter before shutting the journal, placing it on the coffee table, and leaving the note on top.
Day 1 with journal
Kash—
If you’ve found this, and I’m with you, then you know that I love you, and let me take this time to remind you that I will love you with everything that I am for the rest of our lives. I hope that by now I’m getting tired of hearing the name Sour Patch again, but, please, don’t ever stop calling me that. No matter how much I say I hate it, it reminds me of when we first met, and I love those memories.
I hope we’re already fighting again. Couples are afraid to fight with each other, but fighting with you is one of the things I miss the most. You drive me crazy, and I know you push my buttons on purpose, but you also don’t put up with my bullshit, and that’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.
Knowing you, I’m probably making you pancakes as you read this. And I guarantee you I’m already tired of those, but I’ll continue to make them as long as I can continue eating your green Sour Patch Kids.
But . . . if you’re finding this, and I’m gone, please know that I loved you fiercely up until the very end. I know you did everything to try and find me, don’t blame yourself for any of this, because I don’t blame you. Take care of Trip, and take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to fall in love again, I can’t stand to think of you spending the rest of your life alone. Love her as much as you’ve loved me, and I pray the woman knows how lucky she is to have a man like you by her side.
. . . I know you, Kash; you come in and save the day at the last minute . . . so I’ll be here, waiting for you at the “last minute.” But no matter what happens, Logan Kash Ryan, you’re still my hero.
I love you.
Always.
—Rachel
21
Rachel
I WAS MIXING THE BATTER for pancakes when Kash strode back into the living room. He smiled devilishly at me as his eyes slid over to the coffee table and then did a double take. Looking back over to me with a raised brow, I answered his silent question the same way. I simply shrugged, dropped my eyes, and kept stirring. When I heard the sound of rustling paper, I looked up under my eyelashes and held my breath as he read my first—and what I’d been afraid would end up being my last—letter to him.
So many different emotions played over his face as he read it. His lips tilted up in a soft smile at first, and slowly grew larger until he huffed a laugh and his eyes flicked up to me quickly. But just as soon as they were back, all humor left his handsome face, and his forehead tightened seconds before he began sucking on his lip ring. Suddenly his mouth popped open and he slowly looked back up at me, his gray eyes glassy with tears. With a slight shake of his head, he forced his eyes back down to the paper and finished reading the letter.
I knew when he had finished, because even though his head was somewhat bent over the letter, his eyes weren’t focused on the paper. He stood there for what felt like hours before he let the letter fall from his fingers to the table and walked over to me.
Reaching over, he unplugged the griddle and grabbed the batter before turning to put it in the fridge.
“Let me make this, you need to eat.”
“I’ll live.” His voice was low and rough as he reached for my hand and towed me to the bedroom. He called for Trip to follow us and waited until he was in the room before shutting the door and taking me to the bed. Sitting me down on the edge of it, he began pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips.
“I’d kept it hidden in the binding, do you—”
“Rachel,” he said, cutting me off. Abruptly he’d stopped pacing and placed a hand on each side of me, his face directly in front of me. “I refuse to take care of myself alone. You take care of me, and I’ll take care of you, and together we’ll take care of Trip.”
“Okay . . .”
“And don’t ever tell me again to love another woman the way I have loved you, and will always love you. There is no way you could have expected me to move on after you.”
“You say that now, but you don’t know how you would have felt in a few years.”
He grabbed my face in his hands and his voice shook as he shouted, “I don’t give a shit! I know I don’t know how I would feel in that situation, there’s no way to know that. But I know that no matter what happens in our lives, if you were taken from me for good, there would never be anyone else like you. There would never be anyone else I could love the way I love you.”
“Kash, okay. I’m sorry,” I whispered and brushed the tips of my fingers against the angry set of his face. Something in my touch broke him, because a pained cry burst from his chest at the same time heavy tears fell down his cheeks.