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twenty-eight
scarlett
“Theo! Where’s your bag? The one you take to camp!” I yell at him through his closed bedroom door.We’re at Grey’s, waiting on him to get home so we can eat dinner together as a family.My nerves are on high alert, and I have to keep myself distracted or I’m liable to go spastic and deep clean his fridge along with every cabinet.So I elect to be productive—not neurotic—and get Theo’s things ready, to occupy my hands and my mind, and off what this evening might mean.
“Closet by the front door, top shelf.I think,” he calls out and then returns to what I assume is his video games based on the sounds of clicking and car revving filtering from his room.
We’re lucky he enjoys the outdoors so much or we’d be forced to limit his gaming time.Greyson and I hit the mother lode with this boy.He’s such an easygoing kid, so why I’m worried about him freaking out if his father and I decide to make a relationship happen is insane.
Opening the closet, I breathe a sigh of relief.At least the man keeps this space clean.The rustic wood flooring gleams below the coats and jackets hung up.That’s one thing we might have to discuss.Tidiness. I like containers. I like order and precision—my desk at work suggests otherwise but my home is another matter.Greyson is a tornado on a spring day.Theo’s worse, the smell of pre-teen boy leeching through the bottom of his door daily, clinging to the socks and underwear thrown on every surface.
Theo’s overnight canvas bag is wedged on the top shelf next to a cardboard box and the side of the closet wall.I pull on the corner of the bag and grunt as it provides resistance to my tugging.I reach up to shove the bulky box aside to make more room, but instead I move it just enough for it to tip over and rain its heavy contents over me.
“Oww.” I rub my head and huff at my clumsiness.Bending down to clean up the mess, I scrunch up my eyebrows at the array of notebooks littering the floor.
Interest piqued, I pick up a black composition notebook and flip it open.
March
1. Preston is here in Montana and while I’m grateful for the chance to right our wrongs, it’s going to be harder than I thought.He hates me, and rightfully so.Dad is gone and I need my brother, but it was me, all me, who pushed him away.I hope I can fix this before it’s too late.
2. I’m grateful for Shelby. He helps me see reason instead of an opportunity to drink.
3. Theo is almost six and I’m grateful he finally got to meet his uncle.It’s been a long time coming.
4. I’m grateful for rock climbing walls.Great way to burn off anger.
5. Scarlett… I’m a terrible person for this, but I’m grateful she doesn’t live next to SoS right now.Preston is going to kill me once he finds out.
I close the notebook and clutch it to my chest.I didn’t realize he continued the gratitude journal after rehab.Glancing around, I’m mesmerized by the sheer number of notebooks.There have to be at least twenty strewn out on the floor.I begin to stack them up and put them back into the box.I don’t want him to see me with these when he gets home—they contain very personal statements, and he deserves his privacy no matter my curiosity.
The sloping script on a pristine white page catches my eye and my impulse to read so strong, it’s in my lap before I can resist.
Today I dedicate this gratitude entry to Scarlett.She’s brilliant. Her first therapy building opened a week ago, and the response has been amazing.She’s in her element, managing behind the scenes, watching it all play out.I visited the center when I knew she was volunteering.Stayed out of sight and watched her work her magic with the horses and the kids enamored with the animals.She made that place come alive.She makes me come alive. I’ve never known a more compassionate person, someone willing to help others at their lowest, like she helped me.Scar should’ve left me to deal with my mess of a life, but she didn’t.She chose to stay and see it through with me.I wish I could tell her how much I love her, but we don’t always get what we want in life.Having her here in Montana, raising a kick-ass kid with me, is by far the biggest form of grace I’ve ever been offered, and I don’t plan on wasting it.
By now, tears have built up behind my eyes and threaten to spill over.This man.He’s amazing and I’ve always known it.But now it’s clear—I don’t deserve him, but I want to.I want him and everything he is, flaws and all.
I shut this notebook and pick up another one because I’m selfish and I want to read more, to see directly into his big heart.
Scarlett’s dad died today, and I’m grateful I could be there for her.He was a wonderful man, and they were close.Her pain became my pain as I remember it well when my own dad died.I wanted to take on her tears and take away the grief that brought her to her knees.To lose a parent is indescribable.The loss in her eyes… I couldn’t stand it.The hole in my heart matches hers.I get it and I promised her if she ever needed me, I’d be there.We may not be together, but I’m content to love her from afar if it means she never feels alone.
Closing my eyes, I finally let the silent tears stream down my face—the salt seeping into the seams of my lips.Three years later and the pain is still a fresh wound.My father was a good man, made me believe in myself and what I could achieve.His job in the Navy was hard, and he felt the brunt of it, but he always had a smile on his face despite it.I miss that smile so much. I see it in Theo, the little quirk to his lips, and I like to think it’s my dad letting me know everything is as it should be.Greyson was right there beside me at the funeral, my shelter in the storm.I regret not being able to attend his father’s funeral with him, but he believed seeing Preston would’ve been too much. I would’ve loved to shoulder his pain as well.
Through blurry eyes, I pour over more journal entries, knowing I shouldn’t, but tearing my gaze away from his thoughts—impossible, especially when I note my name in every single one.
Wiping my face, I gather the rest of the notebooks and put them back in their proper place.I’ve read enough—enough to appreciate the man my heart belongs to.I didn’t even need to read them to know my reasons for not pursuing a relationship with him wouldn’t hold up.Even if I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from this… pursuit.He’d worm his way in deeper just by being him.
In the spare bathroom, I clean my splotchy face, running my finger under my lashes to clear away the smeared mascara so Theo doesn’t wonder why I’m such a mess.My cheeks hurt from smiling, and I can’t wait for Greyson to get here so we can talk.I jump up and down in front of the mirror to ease my jitters.
Oh my God, we’re really going to do this.
Shaking out my hands, I pace back and forth, breathing in deep breaths—the fog finally lifted.Greyson risked everything by telling me he loved me.He laid it out, ripe for rejection and did it anyway.Walking away from a good man like that is unfathomable, especially as my heart beats to the echo of his name.All those bad dates, the uncertainty with Kellen, led me to him, and I refuse to regret not taking a chance on true love.The crushing doubt floats away—it’s our time now.
The ringing of my phone breaks through my discovery.Pulling it from my pocket, I frown.
“Preston, what’s up?” My stomach flips.He normally doesn’t call me, only texts and even that’s rare.
“Turtle, you gotta listen to me and not freak out.” His voice is hoarse and ragged, sending shivers of fear skating down my spine.
