Page 76 of The History in Us

“You got another letter,” she said quietly, but I continued to shake my head.

“Not mine,” I whispered. I heard Tuck’s finger slice the envelope, the rip of paper like a knife over my skin. She read the words aloud.

K –

The universe sent you to me. Come back to me.

̴ L

I closed my eyes, wanting to block out words not meant for me. My body trembled like a fever was coming. Tuck’s voice hitched at the end of her reading.

“Not mine,” I whispered again, knowing the universe sent no one to me. Levi Walker had been there at all the right times, but he was wrong for me.

The silence behind me made me turn. Tuck hadn’t left my bed, and I saw her re-reading the words. The note shook and her free hand covered her mouth.

“What?” I twisted farther as her head shook back and forth.

“These aren’t for you, sugar. I’m sorry. I recognize the handwriting, unless there’s something you want to tell me, like how you might know Logan Prescott.” I stared back at her eyes filled with concern.

“I have no idea who that is.”

“He’s my ex-fiancé. I moved out of his place, thinking he’d never find me here. The K is for Kentucky.”

My eyes opened wide and I sat up instantly. I pointed for my desk drawer and watched as she removed the rest of the letters.

“I’m so sorry. I just assumed the K was for Katie, and I never gave it a thought.” Damn my romantic notions and imagination. I should have said something before, when Levi told me they weren’t from him, but the letters had slowed down.

“I totally understand. Don’t worry about it.” She brought the letters to her chest, similar to the way I had, only I had tried to treasure the romantic implication, while Tuck seemed frightened.

“Is there something I should worry about? What don’t I know? I’ve been a terrible roommate.”

“It’s nothing.” She waved the handful of notes at me, her face falsely smiling. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” Her confidence belied the quivering in her tone.

“You’d tell me if you were…if there was something wrong. If you were afraid, right?”

“Oh, Logan. He’s a pussycat.” She smiled wide, but the force of her mouth hinted at a second lie. “See”—her voice shook as she held out the letters to me—“he’s sweet.” I didn’t believe her, and fear rippled through me as I thought of how one can perceive things to satisfy a selfish desire, when sometimes intentions are quite the opposite.

“Want to tell me what happened to you, though?” she questioned. I shook my head, but my lips trembled, and the words spilled out of me despite my desire to keep silent.