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“Your father passed away last month.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’d call the jail every once in a while and ask if your old man had any visitors. I was looking for you. A corrections officer, a buddy of mine, said he died. Liver cancer.”
I raise my cup. “Good.”
“Figured you’d feel that way.” Woods checks the time on his watch. “Listen, I can’t stay much longer. But I’d like to do this again. Maybe we can exchange numbers.” He shrugs. “Make it a regular thing like old times. If you don’t want to—”
“We’d love to,” Carla says.
I laugh at her eagerness. “Yes. We’d love to.”
“I have a confession.”
I slip under the comforter and lean against the headboard. “Come lay with me.”
Carla wrings her hands together as she paces at the foot of my bed. “I think you’re going to be mad.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Does this confession have anything to do with Joe?”
“God no.” She shakes her head. “Nothing to do with him.”
“Okay. Then I won’t be mad.”
She grimaces and climbs onto the bed. “You won’t know that until after you hear my confession.”
I stroke her face and press a kiss to her lips. “Talk to me. I promise I won’t be mad.”
“Remember when you received that letter from your dad’s jail?”
“Yes.”
“Remember how you threw it in the garbage?”
“Yes.”
“Well … I may or may not have taken it out of the garbage and saved it for you.” Her hands slap against her face as she covers her eyes. “Please don’t hate me!”
I struggle to keep a straight face and slide her body closer to me. “And did you read this letter?”
She peeks out from behind her hands. “No. I swear.”
“So why keep it?”
“I didn’t want you to regret not opening it. But now that he’s gone, it might help give you some closure.”
“Do you have the letter with you?”
“It’s in my notebook.”
“Good thing I haven’t read your journal lately or I’d have found it.”
“Lately?”
I chuckle and reach for her purse on her nightstand.
Her nightstand. Love the sound of that.
