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I know in my heart that she never would have told him where she was. Hell, I’m sure she changed her last name the moment she had the chance.
I look back at the TV, but the image of me skating down the ice isn’t computing in my mind.
It’s like I can’t even see the screen.
My brain is too jumbled with horrible thoughts.
Pressing pause, I move to stand and do what I absolutely should not.
I head to Cassidy’s room.
A voice in my head is telling me not to be a jackass. Not to snoop. She’ll open up to me when she wants to. When she’s ready. But the other part of me is desperate to know.
The room is completely spotless. Not a thing out of place. The bed is made and not a single personal item is left out on the dresser.
She hasn’t slept in this room for weeks but still keeps her stuff in here. The fact that she respects me enough to ensure even her own space is kept spotless isn’t lost on me. She’s always caring for me.
I don’t know what I’m doing in this room, but I can’t stop myself from running my hands over the dresser. Not a speck of dust.
The next thing I know, I’m crossing the space and heading into her closet.
Pulling open the door, I look toward the clothes hanging. I stare at them, wondering if I can ascertain anything from them.
Who am I kidding? What the hell am I going to find from looking at her clothes?
It’s all sweatpants and leggings. Nothing fancy to be seen aside from the clothes I bought her.
What does that prove?
Nothing.
It doesn’t give me any glimpse into the life she led before me other than to tell me she lived a laid-back life before coming to stay with me. One she had no choice over. With limited funds, she was just barely making ends meet.
Despite knowing I should leave, I find myself sifting through her stuff.
It’s wrong.
I know it is, but still my mind is set, and I can’t fight the compulsion.
There’s nothing to see until my eyes land on the suitcase sitting in the back of the closet.
I move toward the back and pull it out to set it in the middle of the closet floor. When I open the lid, it’s empty. All the contents have been removed. Except… there’s a zippered compartment I haven’t checked, and something tells me there’s something to be found.
Even if I wanted to, I can’t stop myself. The sound of the zipper opening echoes through the small walk-in closet like a freight train. The chance of being caught speeds up my heart. My hands are moving before my brain can catch up to tell me to stop. To give her the privacy she wants.
Bingo.
Inside the zippered compartment is a manila envelope.
I flip the top open, knowing there’s no going back. I’ve seen it, and now I can’t turn away. It’s calling to me. Begging me to open it.
Inside is a stack of letters.
I grab one and turn it over, inspecting every aspect of it.
It’s addressed to me, but there’s no physical address. It just says Aiden Slate.
I’m about to put it back until I realize it’s not sealed.
