All from Hersh.
For one full year, he had written to me.
For one full year, my father had hidden every word.
The last letter still lived in my purse, folded until the creases were soft as cloth.
I didn’t need to read it.
I had memorized every line.
Soon as I get leave, I’m coming home to marry you.
I already bought the ring.
I love you, Flick.
Always.
My vision blurred.
“No,” I whispered, blinking hard. “Not now.”
I could not fall apart in a café parking lot.
Not with Hersh standing behind me.
Not with the FBI telling me never to draw attention.
Not with a cartel looking for me.
And definitely not because the only boy I’d ever loved had grown into a man who looked at me like I’d ripped his heart out and walked away with it.
I glanced in the rearview mirror.
He was still there.
Tall. Broad. Dark-haired. Bigger than I remembered.
The boy had been handsome.
The man was dangerous.
Not dangerous like the men hunting me.
Dangerous in a worse way.
He made me remember who I’d been before fear and loneliness became a daily routine.
Before new names.
New towns.
New rules.
Before every unexpected knock made my blood turn cold.
I gripped the steering wheel and forced myself to pull out of the parking lot.
