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The next letter was dated four months later. He apologized for being unable to write sooner; he was back from a mission, and could she meet him at their cottage? He mentioned an enclosed check that should cover her travel expenses. I smiled as I read the words of a man who was head over heels in love. He told my mother he hadn’t told his family much about her yet. Only that he had met someone and would tell them more about her once he was out of the Marines.
I frowned and wondered why. My question was answered in his last paragraph.
I want to shout from the mountaintops that I love you, Heather. My parents are going to love you, and so will my brothers. I understand you don’t want me to tell them much about you until we figure out what to do about your father, but I swear to you, Heather, I’ll take care of you. If your father cuts you out, I’ll provide for you. I have money saved up, and my father and mother plan on giving me a piece of the ranch. We can build our own little house. We can build our love from the ground up. We’ll hear our kids’ little footsteps in our home, and everything will be perfect. I promise you. Once I’m out of the Marines, we can get married. We can do it there in Dallas, or in Montana. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is your happiness. I’ll wait for you for an eternity. I love you, honeybee, and I cannot wait to hold you again.
Forever yours,
Beck
I folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. Then I noticed it was Beck’s last correspondence. There was one other letter, but it was in an official envelope from the United States Marines. Lifting the flap, I pulled out an unopened letter from my mother to Beck coupled with an official-looking letter. My heart pounded in my ears, and I imagined what it must have been like for my mother to read it, knowing she was pregnant with me. I skipped over the formal letterhead information and went straight to the letter.
Dear Ms. Dahlstrom,
It is with regret that I am writing to inform you that Sergeant Beck Shaw was killed in action.
I understand the sorrow this letter will bring you, but I hope you find comfort in knowing that Sergeant Beck provided a heroic service to his country.
The letter fell from my hand, and I wasn’t sure how long I sat there. Eventually, my hand went to my chest, and I rubbed at the dull ache.
Picking up the letters, I stood and headed out to the living room, where I would spend the rest of the night getting shit-faced drunk until my grandfather found me the following day.
Chapter One
AVERY
I stared at the monitor as it counted down the time until I could board the last plane for home.
Home.
Another announcement overhead caused me to jump. It had been a long day of traveling: Paris, New York, Atlanta, and Dallas. The storms across the middle of the country were causing havoc with the schedule. I was exhausted, but I knew I’d be back in Hamilton, Montana, soon enough.
I pulled out my phone and saw Juliette’s text, asking if I’d made it to Montana yet. We’d become the best of friends during the last few years that I’d lived in Paris. I thought modeling and fashion was what I wanted to do forever. But that was fifteen-year-old Avery. Eighteen-year-old Avery wanted a completely different life—one of peace and no runways and people telling me I needed to lose weight or gain weight or take better care of my skin.
“Almost over.”
I pulled up Emily’s name and sent her a text.
Me: I’m almost home! I cannot wait to start our new lives!
It didn’t take Emily long to text back. We’d met when she came to Montana over New Year’s to visit her sister Mackenzie, who was my brother Bradly’s girlfriend. We both found out we shared a love of flowers. Once we learned Emily would be moving to Montana with her fiancé, Doug, we knew we had to do something together. We were going to start a flower farm, and I couldn’t wait to hit the ground running.
Glancing at the time, I decided to run to the store across from the gate to grab a few snacks. Now that I didn’t have to worry about my weight, I would eat as many Reese’s Cups as I wanted.
They announced boarding just as I was checking out. I grabbed my snacks bag, carry-on, and purse and dashed to my gate. They were still boarding my first-class seat—an upgrade for all the traveling problems—so I jumped in line and waited my turn.
When I reached my seat, I dropped my head back against the chair, and sighed tiredly.
