Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
But I’ve come this far.
One more glance. Coast is clear. I unfold the delicate pages, my pulse kicking fast. I read the first one.
Dear Harriet,
It’s too hard like this. Every day at work, I feel the weight of the secret. Every night, I feel the pull toward you. I can’t stand hiding. I’m ready to be done sneaking around. I’m through with breaking the rules. I want to take a chance. I need to be with you. You’re worth it.
Let’s tell the captain. If he says we need to get another job, we’ll both leave. If one of us has to quit, I’ll be the one to do it. I can’t be without you. That’s the only thing I know for sure.
With all my love,
Russ
My heart cracks. It shears, breaking in two, calving like a glacier into the frozen waters. A tear rolls down one cheek, then another.
He loved her so much he wouldn’t let go. I close my eyes, try to collect my thoughts, working hard to calm my pulse. When I open my eyes, footsteps echo in the firehouse.
Shoot.
Aisha must be here already. I scramble, shoving the letters with the stack, back inside the jar, then rushing out to the front to say hello. Better to greet her there than here as I tuck away a strawberry jar.
But when I enter the bakery proper, I come face-to-face with Corbin, carrying a box.
“Hi,” he says, and he looks…awful.
Eyes dark. Bags under them. Sadness in his irises. “Are you okay?” I ask.
He gives a sad smile, then, like he’s at war with himself, he says, “Sometimes.”
My chest aches. I swallow uncomfortably, nodding in understanding. If I speak, I might cry. But I collect myself and say, “Are you working today? I didn’t see you on the schedule.”
“No. I have a game this evening. And morning skate in an hour.”
“Don’t be late,” I say, earnestly.
“I won’t,” he says, then offers me the box. It’s been opened, but the cardboard edges are tucked back in together. “The T-shirts arrived at my house. I wanted to bring them by.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
He takes them out, sets them up on the merch stand, then folds the box up to recycle. He doesn’t leave though. He looks like he wants to say something. “Mostly I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
My chest warms, and that small gesture touches me deeply. “I’m fine,” I say, right as the timer goes off.
Shit. Cookies.
I race back into the kitchen, grab an oven mitt, and pull them out before they burn. I set them down on the counter, spin around, and see Corbin staring at the cookie jar. He’s no longer holding the cardboard. Is he hurt I read one alone? Does he feel left out? Disappointed?
But when he looks up, there’s only longing in those sparkling green eyes. Maybe even hope.
I shrug. “I read it. Well, one page.”
His smile is soft, forgiving. “I’d probably have done the same.”
He sounds so…kind and sad all at once. But maybe there’s wistfulness in his tone too? And want. Yes, definitely want. “Did you want to read it?”
It feels weird to offer, but worse not to.
He seems to consider that as I grab a spatula and slide the cookies off the tray and onto a rack. “I do, but also…I probably shouldn’t be late.”
“I hear you,” I say. “Don’t want to be fined.”
“I don’t,” he says, but he makes no move to go. “Was it…a hopeful letter?”
I smile, both sad and optimistic. “It was. They have a happy ending. I mean, they did wind up together.”
“True,” he says, wryly, a hint of his humor coming through. “But how they got there is what matters.”
“It is.”
He nods to the door. “I should go.”
This time he turns to leave, but he stops once more in the doorway. “How hopeful?”
I laugh, for the first time in ages. “Very.”
He repeats that word as he takes the cardboard and leaves, the morning sun making a silhouette of him as he strides down the path, and I feel a little bit lighter than I did last night.
49
OPERATION RESUMED
CORBIN
The whole drive down to the arena, voices repeat in my head.
Annabelle from the other day: Do you love her?
Theo from last night: Grow up. People have bad days.
Annabelle again: You don’t like it when you’re not in control. When you think you could fail.
Theo: You should be the kind of man who stays.
All through morning skate, they grow louder. I wonder, too, what the last letter said. But I also don’t know if it matters. Not right now at least.
After, as I grab some lunch with the guys, I hear another voice.
Mabel’s. Saying: Very.
That one sticks with me when I go to my friend Ford’s place. He’s out of town and said I could use it. I don’t want to go back to Cozy Valley for only an hour, so I lie on the couch and close my eyes to rest before the game—because yes, I should rest. It’s part of the job.