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But I’d barely heard her, struck stupid by the observance of an old woman who knew more than I ever would.
Love him. I loved him.
And Salma knew before me.
A little laugh slid out of me even as my eyes filled with tears. I sat back in my chair too, setting my eyes on the same view as Salma for a moment. But there was no processing the news. My emotions were tangled up in a thick knot in my chest.
I slid my thumbnail into the flap and tore the envelope open before unfolding the letter with my heart in my throat.
* * *
Jo-
There are too many things I want to say, and no sufficient words to say them with. But before I leave, and for the last time, I needed you to know what you mean to me.
It’s all I have left to give.
This town was supposed to be just like every other I’d come and gone from, a stop on a long train with no destination. And I was the same me I ever was, the only me I’d ever known. All my life, I’ve been searching without knowing what I was looking for. I had everything I could want, everything I needed. I had a life and ambitions, a future, the trajectory already set. I was happy, I thought.
And then you went and proved me wrong on every front.
I had no heart before you. Fitting that I should leave it here with you.
My father thinks me pathetic for finding myself—my truest self—in a little bee farm in Texas with a woman who wanted nothing I had to offer. But being with you shed light on that trajectory I was on, exposing its flaws, its wrongness. That path was taking me to my father’s life, and it surprised me to find that was what I thought I wanted. Until I didn’t anymore.
I wanted a life with you. Here.
I only wish I’d realized it sooner.
But I have you to thank for everything—I wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t shown me. And now that I know, I can rewrite the equation, put myself on a new path. I only wish it was with you.
I told you once I’d never been in love before, and at the time, that was true. But now I know what love is, what happiness means, how precious it is. And that’s thanks to you too.
I’d beg if I thought I deserved to be forgiven. So instead I’ll tell you that I’ve never regretted anything more than this. I’ll say that I’m sorry even though the word will never be enough to describe how I feel.
I’ll tell you that I love you because I want you to know that love changed me. I’ll never be the same—I’ll be more, forever better because for a moment, I saw myself through you and learned who I wanted to be. Who I’m supposed to be.
Part of me will always be here.
Part of me will be yours forever.
* * *
-Grant
* * *
I blinked away tears, reading and rereading, shaking my head and pressing my fingers to my lips to keep myself from sobbing. My hand lowered to my lap, the letter still unfurled.
Salma waited, still rocking in her chair as we stared off at the hills, patchy with sunshine between clouds.
When the clamp on my throat eased enough to speak, I finally did.
“He loves me.”
“He does.”
“But … he lied, Salma. He … he used me.”
“I know.”
“And now h-he’s gone.”
She nodded. “But gone back to what? He’s all scrambled up. His daddy’s not gonna forgive this. He’s got no job and—”
“He what?”
Her eyes narrowed a little. “Which part?”
“His job.”
Now she was frowning. “That wasn’t in there? About his job?”
“No.”
“Honey, his daddy didn’t just threaten to tell y’all Grant’s intentions—he fired the boy the second he left to come here. To come clean.”
“He … Merrick fired him?”
“Well, yes. Grant blew Flexion’s plan to get your rights and Merrick’s plan to con your poor mama. He knew it meant his job, but he did it anyway.”
I tried to speak, but I couldn’t get past the stone in my esophagus.
Salma sighed. “He didn’t even use that to try to get you back. That boy. I don’t know whether to hug him or throttle him.”
I leaned forward, abandoning the letter in my lap to drop my face to my hands. He loved me, loved me enough to sacrifice his job, the forever unfulfilled promise of a relationship with his father, everything he’d held dear.
Before me.
He loved me.
I loved him.
Is it enough?
“What do I do?” I said half to myself.
“Well, answer me this—do you think he’d ever hurt you on purpose?”
“No, never. Not on purpose.”
“Do you think he’d lie to you now? After all this?”
I thought for a beat, playing out scenarios. “No.”
“Do you believe him? Whatever he said in that letter?”
