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I didn’t know if Rowdy had been telling the truth and the box meant nothing to him or if it was dumb luck that he hadn’t noticed the key missing in the weeks since I’d taken it.
At first, I told myself I needed to wait until his guard was down—until he’d forgotten about our argument over the box. The truth was I hadn’t wanted to know what was in it. I wanted to stay in la-la land where there was no pain or loneliness.
Only Rowdy and me. Only love.
Because I’d trusted him when he said there was nothing worth knowing inside.
Now…
I blew out a breath and flipped open the lid. My throat became clogged when I saw what was inside.
A dozen or so folded sheets of yellowed notebook paper stashed inside.
With trembling hands, I plucked the top square from the pile. As if fate wanted to twist the knife a little deeper, written on the front in a familiar script were the wordsFor Your Eyes Onlyinside a hand-drawn heart.
I backed away as if that single step could undo this path I’d started down.
But no.
The back of my leg collided with Rowdy’s desk chair, and I dropped onto the cushioned seat. Unfolding the paper square, I held my breath until the last corner peeled away, revealing the secrets written inside.
Dear Owen,
This will be my last letter.
I know I say that every time because you never write back, but this time is different. This time, I know your secret. I know what you do when no one is looking. I can’t believe you’d do that to him. And to me. Did you not even consider how it would make me feel?
Do you love her?
I hope not. She’s not worth it. Why can’t you see that?
She’s nothing. I can be everything.
If only you would look past her just once. Maybe then you would finally see me.
Love,
Unrequited
A shuddering breath left me as I set the note down. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed as I sat there staring at nothing. I don’t remember rising from the chair and reaching for the box. I don’t remember pulling out and reading the next note…and then another and another until I reached the last letter and found another photo taken twenty years ago resting on the bottom.
I set the last unread letter aside and lifted the photo from the tackle box.
The first thing I noticed was that it must have been taken the same night as the photo I possessed. Maybe even a duplicate. I looked at the factory building looming in the background, the party raging inside, and then, like a ritual, my gaze swept over each of the smiling teenagers posing in front.
Golden, Roc, Joren, Jada—
My breath hitched in my chest when my gaze landed on the short dark-skinned girl wearing large, round glasses and standing between Rowdy and Jada. She seemed out of place amongst the group. More than that, something about her seemed familiar. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
I flipped the photo over to see if her name was written on the back like before, but it was blank. I flipped it back over and stared at her image, trying to figure it out until I noticed the direction of her gaze.
She was the only one not looking at the camera. Her gaze was fixed on Rowdy.
Atlas had left me.
Every moment since I came home two weeks ago and discovered her stuff missing had been a constant struggle to ignore my instincts—the animal prowling in my chest demanding I find his mate.
Atlas had taken only what she came into the relationship with, making her “fuck you” even clearer.
