Page 65 of Silver Brewer

Letty stared at me across the bench seat of my truck. “What more are you hiding?” she asked.

“Nothing. I swear. There’s nothing else to know.” It’s the truth. I’m a simple man. I made a mistake here, but there’s no other agenda.

“I don’t know anything about you.”

She’s wrong. So wrong. She has opened me up just as she claims I’ve done to her.

“That’s not true. You know I’m good at throwing an ax. I can make eggs over a campfire. I like to wash your hair. I love your laugh.” I’d give anything for her laughter instead of the tears filling her eyes.

“Giant.” She exhaled. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because you already had everything,” she blurted.

“What do you mean?”

“Marriage and children. Love and happily ever after.”

“She died. How was that happily ever after?” I hate myself for snapping at her or even considering that Clara and I hadn’t been happy. We were. We were content.

A tear trickled down her face, and I popped the latch on her seat belt, tugging her to me.

“Cricket. Please,” I groaned, holding her to my chest and stroking my hand down her hair. I inhaled her scent, hoping to memorize it. Apricots. It made my mouth water. She is spring rain to my snow showers.

Thankfully, her arms wrapped around my neck, and she hugged me back. I thought we were good, and then I dropped her off at the airport.

My heart crashed as she walked away, and I wondered if Clara felt this loss each time I left home. This fear that she’d never see me again. That I’d never return.

That’s how I felt when Letty entered the terminal and then didn’t answer my emails.

“Whatcha drinking?” The teasing sound of my brother snaps me from the memory. I’m sitting in Blue Ridge Microbrewery and Pub on a Thursday evening.

I’d sent Letty an email every day since she left me, telling her everything I haven’t said and more. I kept it light, reminding me of the communication I once had while in the military. The action sparks my determination to make it work with Letty. I’ve had a long-distance relationship before—across an ocean—so I can do this again across a few states. It’s only a short plane ride between us.

“Whiskey,” I say, rolling the glass between my fingers on the bar. I’m more of a beer man, but tonight calls for the hard stuff. Eleven days. No conversation. I’m the only one talking in those emails.

I look up to find Billy watching me. “What’s going on?”

I’m not an open book with my siblings. I don’t delve into emotions, digging into my feelings, but I need to tell someone.

“Letty left me.”

Billy’s forehead furrows. “You broke up?”

“Something happened.” I pause. “I didn’t tell her about my girls, and they practically caught us in bed.”

Billy chuckles while I fail to find the humor in the situation. Reading my countenance, he coughs into his fist and tries to look sympathetic. The forced expression is lost on him. He’s too good natured.

“And…

“She was upset I hadn’t told her I had children.”

“Does she know about Clara?”

“She does.”

“And she wasn’t upset about her?”