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I was nervous about sending them. I wasn’t sure if mail got looked at before being sent to the soldiers so it was definitely a risk, but I knew that once they landed in Rivers’ hands, they were safe. There’s no way he would have let them out of his sight, even in the middle of a war zone. Protecting the people he loves has always been his goal and he’d die before betraying that or letting anyone down.
Me? I was different. In order to protect me, he needed to hurt me and that’s something we’ll both struggle with for the rest of our lives. Though ‘struggle’ might be the wrong word. I certainly struggled for the past four years but I’ve been learning to put it behind me. I understand his reasoning now and with that came forgiveness, and that forgiveness sure makes life a hell of a lot easier.
I go about my living room on a Thursday afternoon cleaning up after myself. It’s been a huge day with orders at the store, a check-up at the clinic, and then stopping by the store to pick up some fresh groceries for the new healthy diet I’ve been forcing myself to stay on for the last few months, and to be honest, it doesn’t suck. It’s just time consuming. Rather than calling for take out, I actually have to cook, which at first I hated, but I’ve been learning a lot of new tricks and Henley has been adamant about teaching me a thing or two. But let’s face it, it’ll be years before I can reach her skill level in the kitchen.
With the living room now in order and my feet beginning to ache after such a big day, I grab Rivers’ letter off the kitchen counter and drop down onto my couch. I absolutely adore reading, but tonight, I’ll be content just reading his few paragraphs over and over again as no book could ever bring me more joy.
I squish myself into my stick figure cushion and pull the stick figure blanket over my lower half and get comfortable. I mean, my home is currently covered in Rivers’ little horny stick figure man. I have mugs, a pajama set, blankets, and cushions. I even had one printed and framed up on my wall. I just hope Rivers doesn’t do the same with the picture I sent him.
The thought has a cheesy as fuck grin ripping across my face and I find my eyes dropping down to the paper to take it all in again.
I’m fucking coming home, baby!!!!!!!
Since the second I found his letter sitting in my mailbox, I’ve been kicking myself. Who knows how long it was sitting there? I haven’t checked my mailbox for three days, but I guess, seeing as though he’s not here with me right now, it really doesn’t matter. But I would have loved to be fawning over the letter for longer if I could.
His letters have been more than I could have imagined. When I wrote him that first letter, I was expecting a response of maybe three or four words, in true Rivers fashion, but he gave me so much more than that, and although I’ve missed him like never before, his letters were my saving grace that helped pull me through.
Screw Noah and Henley’s endless checking on me. that did nothing to help me get by. I mean, I guess that’s a little unfair. I love them both so much, but there’s a difference between coming to see me to spend time together and checking on me to make sure I haven’t turned into the crazy cat lady.
There’s a knock on my door that has me groaning.
Speaking of Noah being an overprotective asshat, that would be him showing up for his daily check-in. Without fail, I have seen my douchebag, twin brother every single day since Rivers got on that plane. Whether it’s here at home, at my store, while I’m visiting mom and dad, or hell, he even crashed my girls’ night with Henley and Aiden. It’s getting a bit much, but from this letter in my hand, it seems I won’t have to deal with it for much longer.
My eyes snap up to the massive clock on my wall. 8 pm. Right on time. That tells me Noah has just finished his shift and he’s popping in here for two seconds before going home to spend his night with his lovely wife.
I roll my eyes and set a scowl onto my face so he gets the full effect as he walks in. “Come in,” I groan, loud enough for him to catch the annoyance in my tone.
There’s an amused scoff on the other side of the door before I hear the familiar sound of the handle turning. I drop my eyes back to the letter, ready and prepared to tell Noah all about it, but it’s going to have to wait because Noah has set himself a routine.
