Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“Ryker—” she says, but I shake my head.
I hand her the present. “Here. This is for you.”
She looks up at me hesitantly.
I nod. “Open it.”
She grabs the red ribbon and pulls it. Then she takes the lid off the box and peers inside. She picks up a stack of the letters and fans through them. “What… what is this, Ryker?”
I point at the letters. “I wrote these to you. After you broke up with me, I missed you, and when I wrote to you”—I shrug—“I felt close to you. At first, I wrote you a lot. Then as time went by, I wrote to you if something good happened that I wanted to tell you about, or if something bad happened, like when my mom died and I needed to feel close to you again.”
She’s stunned. “Ry…”
“Look, I wanted you to read these because I wanted you to know that I love you. For twenty years, I’ve loved you. I’m not going back to baseball. I’m not wasting one more day being away from you.”
She leans into me, wrapping her arms around me. “I love you, Ryker. I’ve always loved you.”
I kiss her, and I would keep kissing her if she didn’t push at my chest to stop me. “Wait, I want to read them.”
She grabs the box, but I stop her. “Pick one from the middle. The ones in the beginning, I was mad. I left them in there because I wanted you to know how I felt, but for right now, pick one in the middle.”
She takes a deep breath and pulls out a letter from the middle. She leans against me and unfolds it.
She reads it out loud, resting her head against me.
Dearest Izzy,
I’ve been gone for two years. I thought it would get easier but it doesn’t. Tonight I was given the trophy for MVP. I stood on home plate, accepted my trophy and looked out at the crowd. It was so loud in there, all I could hear were people cheering and clapping. Cameras were flashing, and reporters were sticking their microphones in my face. It should have been the best night of my career so far. I got a trophy, a bonus and so many teams are looking at me now.
But all I could think about is that I wanted you here with me.
I would have given anything for it.
If you were here I would have ran off that field and right into your arms.
I miss you. Fuck, I miss you so much. Everywhere I go, people are cheering for me but it means nothing because you’re not with me.
I tell myself I should be happy and I’m being selfish. I mean, I made it. I play baseball in the big leagues and have everything I want. But it’s all a lie. None of this matters without you.
So tonight when I get back to the empty hotel room, I’ll set the trophy down and act like it means something to me but I want you to know, I would trade it all, the trophy, the wins, the money, all of it if I could have you. I love you, my Izzy.
Always yours,
Ryker
It’s like I’m feeling the emotions all over again. I remember that night like it was yesterday, and it was actually pretty early on in my career. Izzy turns and looks up at me. “Oh, Ryker. I’m so sorry… I should have—”
“None of that, Izz. We both have things we should have done, but we didn’t. All we can do is promise that we’re going to fight for each other. I’m going to love you and prove to you every day that I’m worthy of your love.”
She sniffs. “I already know that.” She stands up and holds her hand out. “Do you want to come upstairs with me?”
I stand up and lift her into my arms. “The answer is yes. Anytime you ask me if I want to go somewhere with you, the answer is yes.”
She sighs happily, and I take her upstairs and show her just how good we are together.
EPILOGUE
IZZY
“Higher,” I tell him.
Ryker chuckles and pushes me higher.
“Oh, Ryker, this is so fun. I’m glad you put the swing up. It makes me feel young again.”
“You are young,” he says.
I turn and look at him. “I’m thirty-eight.”
He nods. “I know how old you are.”
“Hey, Mom! Watch this!”
Brock is shooting hoops in the driveway. It’s still cold outside, and from here, I can see the puffs of air as he jogs and does a layup to the net.
Since I’m holding on to the swing, I can’t clap, so I do the next best thing. I whoop and holler for him. “Way to go, Brock! Woo hoo!”
He stops bouncing the ball and walks over to where we are. “I can’t believe Christmas break is over. I go back to school tomorrow.”