Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
My heart jumps into my throat when I throw my messenger bag and my purse onto the passenger seat. I pull my door closed and lock it. Taking a deep breath, I finally reach for the white piece of paper that’s folded and sticking out of my cup holder.
I look out the windshield. Then the side windows. I glance in the rearview mirror, searching frantically for him.
No one is in the parking lot except for me.
An ache grows in my chest as I look down at the note in my trembling hand. I rub my thumb along the familiar texture of the paper. My teeth dig into my quivering lower lip as my heart and my brain battle.
My brain says tear the note up into tiny pieces and throw it away. Forget him and his ever-frustrating elusiveness. I have no room in my life for games. Besides, nothing written in this note can change anything. It will only rip open barely healed wounds and infect them all over again.
My heart says open it. Open it right now. Don’t wait another second! I’ve been hoping and waiting for this for years. A sign. An explanation. A something. Maybe the words inside could change everything.
The heart always wins.
I slowly unfold the note, and I swear I can smell his scent on the paper. Smokey, minty, Bluesy.
Piper,
I’ve walked a million steps and none of them have taken me from you. I’ve written thousands of words and none of them capture you. I’m haunted by you, driven by you, madly in love and lust with you. I want to be good for you. I want to give you everything. Someday I will. Please believe that. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to be better. Things are getting better. I’m so tired of the bad. I’m trying. Every day I’m fighting the voices and the words. I miss you. I miss Acorn. You don’t know how much. Don’t forget me, baby. Hate me if you have to, but don’t stop loving me. I want you to be happy. I want it to be me so fucking bad.
I’m sorry this is a mess. I’m sorry I’m a mess.
I love you like no tomorrow. Always.
Blue
My hand shakes uncontrollably by the time I reach the last word. I read it again.
And again.
I read it over and over until I can hear his raspy voice say the words, and they cut like a knife, slicing through the center of my chest, tearing out my heart and soul. He was here—when? Hours ago? Minutes ago? Did he watch me go into the office this morning? Is he watching me now? Once again, I stare out the windshield into the parking lot, then turn to look out the side windows, then the rearview mirror.
He’s not here. I’m still alone.
Sniffling and choking on the emotions wrenching up inside me, I fold the note and shove it into my purse.
Why would he come back here and not want to see me? I can’t even comprehend it. I’d do anything to see him, to feel his arms and the warmth of his body around me again. If he loves me, why would he hide from me? After all this time, why wouldn’t he want to see me face to face?
I wipe away the tears tracking down my cheeks and throw the car into drive. Maybe it’s not too late—he could still be here, walking around nearby.
Five o’clock commuter traffic doesn’t let me get very far, though, and I bang my hand against the steering wheel in frustration when I have to sit at the traffic light at the intersection near my office through three intervals. I scour the surrounding sidewalks, searching for his hair blowing in the wind, his backpack and guitar slung over his shoulder. The baby seat in the back seat catches my eye in the rearview mirror and my heart skips a beat. Did he see it when he put the note in my car? Did it scare him away? Oh, God. What if he thinks I had a baby with someone else? Now, more than ever, I have to find him and tell him about Lyric before he disappears again.
When the traffic lets up, I drive up and down the main street, past the park and all the places Blue used to play, but I don’t see him anywhere. I know I should give up on this craziness—run my errands, pick up my little girl, and go home. But I don’t. Like a magnet I’m pulled to the only other place I think Blue might be.
The house with the shed.
Years ago I made a promise to myself to never come back here and torture myself with the memories and the questions that haunt this place. I almost broke that promise several times over the years when I was missing Blue so damn much I wanted to do anything to feel close to him again. Every time I fought the urge and forced myself to stay home, playing the music box and staring at the flameless candle he gave me.