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That gets me thinking about how things are different now that there’s no baby. London made it clear to me that the reason she was picking Wes was because she was pregnant and wanted Wes in the baby’s life. I would’ve never stood in the way of that if that’s what London really wanted, but now I see a glimmer of hope that we may be able to get back together.
Wes rakes his fingers through his blond hair. “As much as I hate to admit it, I know you’re right. I know she still loves you. I’ve been fighting hard to get her to see that I’m a better choice for her than you, but I can see it when I look in her eyes that her heart still belongs to you. That doesn’t stop me from loving her and praying that even though you’re back, that it’s me that she chooses.”
I stare at my brother, and I can completely relate to what he’s feeling, but it still doesn’t mean that I will just step aside and let London go without a fight. I know she’ll need time to heal after all this, and time is one thing that I have on my hands right now.
“I can understand that,” I say. “But before I leave this town again, I will make damn sure that she knows how much I love her and pray that she’ll give me another shot with her heart.”
Wes shakes his head. “And what if she doesn’t want to be with you? She could just as easily pick me.”
“If she does choose you, I’ll leave again—this time for good. I don’t want to stand in the way of you and London working things out if that’s what she wants.” The idea of never seeing London again is something I don’t even want to consider. There wasn’t a day that passed over the five years that I was gone that I didn’t think of her—dream about what it would be like to hold her again—and now that I’ve had her again, it’s going to be unbelievably difficult to walk away a second time. But it’s what needs to happen if she chooses Wes, and I want him to know that I’ll understand if she does decide to be with him.
I sigh and look my brother square in the eye. “You, London, and Mom are my family, and more than anything else, I want you to be happy.”
“What about you?” he asks. “If she picks me, where does that leave you?”
“Alone—but I’ll always have my music to keep me company.” I muster up a smile so he can’t tell that there’s a breaking heart inside my chest.
Before he has time to say anything else, Wes’s cell phone rings. “London?” He holds up his hand, palm out like he’s trying to show her the sign to stop through the phone, but it’s like London is in full-on panic mode on the other end of the line. “Slow down.” He pauses again. “I’m on my way.”
I stand there, watching—hoping he’ll fill me in.
He glances up at me, and tears glisten in his eyes. “I have to go. London wants me in there.”
I nod but don’t say anything else before he turns and walks back inside the building.
After they release London from the hospital, I drive back to Mom’s place. My mind is still going ninety miles an hour as I think about London and my family. More than anything I want to hop in the car and drive over to London’s house to check on her, but I know Wes is there, and the two of them need time to grieve over what they’ve lost. I know he’ll take good care of her, so I’m not worried about that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wish I was the one there for her.
Thinking about their loss makes me think of Dad, and I go to the garage.
Mom asked me when I got here a couple days ago if I’d been to his grave, and I told her no. That’s not the place I feel closest to him. His gravestone is just a rock, a place where his body rests. It’s not where I feel his spirit. I feel it in the music I play and in all the things we did together. That’s when I can close my eyes and imagine his hand patting me on the shoulder.
Sitting here in this Nova, I sense that connection more than ever. It’s the one place where I feel him the most.
I ran from the pain of losing him, but more than anything, I ran from the very memory of him. When I found out I lost him, everything in my life fell apart. Nothing made sense anymore because without him I couldn’t see the path to my future clearly. That’s why I had to leave this town and everyone in it behind. Everywhere I looked, I was reminded of Dad, and that brought more pain on me than I could handle.
It took me a while to accept that he was really gone—even longer to realize that the connection I shared with my father exists whether he’s alive or dead because he still lives inside me. Inside this car, the bittersweet joy of feeling him now hits me hard.
“Hi, Dad,” I whisper as I run my hand over the dash while sitting in the passenger seat.
Stirring up the dust on the dash causes me to sneeze, and my knees jerk up and hit the glove box. When it falls open, I furrow my brow when I spot a few white envelopes in there.
I don’t remember these ever being in there.
I pick one of the sealed envelopes up and read my name etched across the front in Dad’s thick scrawl. My hands shake as I realize this is some kind of letter addressed to me—a letter that holds the last conversation I’ll ever technically have with my father.
I press the letter against my chest and close my eyes. Part of me thinks I should never open this letter, but keep it intact so that I will always have a piece of him to look forward to, while another part of me aches to find out what he could’ve possibly written to me about.
With a shaky hand, I carefully open the envelope, taking care to not rip the letter that’s inside.
My eyes zero in on the words on the paper, and I take my time reading them. I want to absorb every second of it, because it’s almost as if Dad’s speaking to me one last time.
Jared,
You might be wondering why in the hell I wrote letters and stuck them inside this car. Well, first thing is, I left them here because I figured no one would come across them in the glove box unless I’ve died, and, well, if that’s how you found them, let me start off by telling you that I’m sorry.
Saying sorry hasn’t always come easy for me—learning to admit when I’m wrong took a lot of practice. I wish I could say that I’ve always been the man you’ve come to know as you grew up, but the truth is, in my younger days I could be a hotheaded bastard. Lucky for me, your mom came along and helped straighten me out. She was there for me even when I didn’t want her to be.
I hope that you can find the kind of love someday that I shared with your mother. By the looks of things from where I sit, I think you might already have with London. That girl is something, Jared, and I can tell that she’s really in love with you. Hang on to that with both hands, because finding someone in this world who will love you despite all your flaws is a rarity, and you should cherish it.
