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Hours passed. The sunlight that dappled the worn wooden floorboards gave way to long shadows that crept along the walls until her room was in darkness. And still she sat on her bed, staring at the envelope. She knew she was in danger of slipping back to that place that had existed for her after the accident. The dark place full of pain and guilt and regret that would eventually give way to, well, nothing. The thought scared her, and yet, in some ways, she wanted it.
Being numb and unaware was so much better than what she felt right now. She was screaming inside. And it hurt all the more because she couldn’t get it out.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Morgan gasped, hating the images that burned behind them. The mangled car. The blanket-draped body along the side of the road. Cooper smiling at her from across the room.
Her stupid orange beanie. It was old and worn—but her mother had given it to her after she’d won her first high school meet, and it had been her good luck charm. Right up until that night when whatever magic it possessed, real or imagined, had fled.
Suddenly sitting up, she scrambled from the bed and tore open her armoire. She grabbed every single piece of clothing and tossed it, frantically searching every nook and cranny. Next she emptied her dresser. And then the nightstand. She was just about to start on her desk when she froze. Someone was in the room with her.
She was breathing hard, her face hot, as she turned. The knot in her throat was big, and she couldn’t speak if she wanted to. Her father stood just inside her bedroom. He looked…unsure. Maybe a little uncomfortable. Funny, he’d not been up here since she was a teenager.
Ryan Campbell didn’t look at the mess on the floor and he didn’t comment or ask what the hell it was she was doing. What he did do was close the door behind him and nod to the bed.
Sniffling, she followed his lead and sat down, pushing back tears when he settled in beside her. He held a bowl of soup in his hands and, without saying a thing, offered it to her. Morgan’s stomach churned, but she took the soup, and he waited patiently beside her until it was all gone.
He set the bowl on the table beside her bed and clasped his hands together. The silence weighed heavily. It pressed into her until she wanted to scream.
“I stopped drinking last week.” His words were slow and precise.
Morgan’s head lowered, and she stared at the floor. “I’m glad,” she whispered. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she began to shake.
“It was time.”
Again, silence filled the space between them, until her father broke it. “I never told you…” He cleared his throat, and she looked away, shaking her head because she was unsure of what was coming.
“I need you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened to your mother. I never did.”
Tears slipped down her face, and she clutched the edge of the bed so tightly, her knuckles were white.
“I didn’t handle things properly. I wasn’t the father you needed. The father you deserved. I found the bottom of every bottle I came across, because it helped me forget how much I missed your mom.”
A sob escaped. She couldn’t help it.
“It’s no excuse. I’m not taking that route. I knew I was failing you, and the booze made it all better somehow. Screwed up, I know. And for that, I’m sorry.” His hand slid over hers, and Morgan whimpered, letting her head fall to his shoulder. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long.
“Seeing you happy with that Simon boy. Seeing the way he made you smile again kind of woke me up. Made me realize a few things. I need help, and I’ll thank him for that one day.”
He clasped her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I don’t know what his story is or what he’s done to hurt you so bad. And maybe the two of you will never figure a way out or find your way back, but Morgan…” He sighed and shook his head. “Don’t throw away something that made you happy until you’re damn well sure you don’t want or need it. Your mother and I didn’t always get along. We had arguments just like any other married couple. But we always heard each other out. Always took the time for at least that. Now, from what I can tell, your Cooper’s got some things he wants to say to you. I hope you can find it in your heart to let him.”
The two of them sat on the bed for a good long while, Ryan Campbell’s arm around his daughter and Morgan letting him take on the burden of some of her pain. When he gently let go and kissed her on the cheek, she had no more tears. They were pretty much dried up.
God, she was so tired. Her father scooped the bowl from the nightstand and left her alone. Eventually, her mind shut off, and she rolled over, clutched her pillow, and fell asleep.
When Morgan woke up, sunlight was starting to break over the horizon. She lay in her bed for a bit, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. When she moved, pain sliced through her head, and with a groan, she rolled over and sat up, stomach churning as she gazed around the room.
Her room was spotless. The mess from the night before gone. Her clothes and things she’d tossed were all put away. Her gaze landed on her desk, and, scrubbing at her sleep-heavy eyes, she got to her feet and shuffled across the room. Trembling fingers reached out, and with a soft moan, she grabbed the faded orange beanie. She held it to her face and rubbed it along her cheek before pulling it over her head.
She had no idea how it got there and wasn’t about to question it. None of this made sense, not even her need to have the hat. And yet a sense of calm washed over her, and she slowly turned around.
Morgan spied the envelope on her bed and, suddenly filled with urgency, crossed the room and grabbed it. She ripped it open and pulled out a bundled manuscript along with a handwritten letter.
She slid onto the bed, so nervous she felt sick, but with her back against her pillows, she started to read.
Morgan,
When I came to Fisherman’s Landing, it was for one purpose only. To finish a book I didn’t feel. The words I had down were as uninspired as my existence. Trust me, that’s an understatement. Then I met you, and it seemed as if all these fast-moving pieces of my life slowed down. Suddenly, they weren’t rigid; they fit together, and I found happiness. The quiet moments I spent with you were profound. They’ve forever changed me. You’ve changed me. I’m not the selfish bastard I once was, even though you might find it hard to believe. Lee Holloway is a part of my li
fe I guarded fanatically and kept close. For a lot of reasons. Reasons that I’ll share with you in person if you’re willing to give me another chance.
