The understatement of my lifetime.
As he heads to the fridge, I grab my stuff and race upstairs. I take one of the guest rooms, selecting the one Cam always used to take. I’m going to miss the top floor and I need to get the rest of my stuff out of my uncle’s bedroom, but that can wait.
My fingers shake as I tear along the sealed envelope. I can’t imagine what this is. What she has to say. But it’s important. It’s from her.
I drink up her words like a man starved for water, only they don’t quell my thirst. No, this is the opposite of anything I want to read right now. Everything I’ve visualized all week, gone.
Dear Chase,
We promised to always tell the truth, no matter how hard or how much it hurts.
I never imagined I’d be writing this letter, yet here we are. Your sobriety is important to me, but not at the sake of my own. I can’t go back. I can’t risk my own salvation. Not even for us. Because I’ve lost myself and it was hell getting to this place. If I have to do it again, I’m not sure I’ll survive.
This last week has been hard. I’m not sure whether you heard, but my father had a stroke. It’s incredibly humbling watching a man I viewed as a superhuman most of my life now struggle to swallow food. It’s made me realize how short life is, how there are no promises, and how now more than ever I have to go after my dreams.
I’ve been accepted into a Master’s program overseas. It’s my dream program. My application was a long shot, but they want me. I won’t be coming back to Kitty Hawk or Richmond for the foreseeable future. This is what I want. What I’ve spent the last year working for. I have to go. If I don’t, I’ll always regret it.
Please don’t try and convince me to stay.
This summer you showed me a side of you I will always treasure. You’re a good man, Chase Matthews. You’re also an addict. I like the person you are when you’re sober, but I refuse to stand by and watch you destroy yourself.
I can’t be the one to rescue you. You have to save yourself.
I hope you fight. I hope you prove yourself and everyone wrong. You have so much good to offer to the world and I want you to have a full and joyful life. It’s something we both deserve.
Alicia
1
Chase
Three years later
“Hello.” I knock at the back door to my brother’s house. Through the screen door, Cam’s profile comes into view from behind the kitchen counter.
“Come in!” he shouts over the music playing from their living room.
I pull open the door and step inside. The aroma of smoked meats and spices causes my stomach to grumble. The counter is filled with vegetables, sliced pork, and roasted chicken—it’s enough for our dinner tonight and his food prep before spending the next two days on shift. My brother is a damn good cook, and staying in his guest house sure has its advantages.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“You know I am.”
“Good.” He grins before turning his back to retrieve the tray of seasoned potatoes from the oven. “How are things at Station Thirty? Roddy still giving you a hard time for the time off?”
I chuckle, taking a sip from the insulated water cup I brought over. “Yeah, but I don’t give a shit. You know I wouldn’t miss your wedding for anything.”
“Thanks again for agreeing to help with all this.” He nods to the living room where it’s been taken over and turned into wedding prep central.
“Hey, Chase.” Jill emerges from the hallway and lifts her hand in greeting. She pauses to slap Cam’s ass, then steals a bite of food from the counter. “Oh fuck, that’s good,” she says through a mouthful and turns to open the fridge. “What do you guys want to drink?”
“I’m good.” I lift my water.
“I’ll take a beer.” Cam’s gaze darts to mine. Uncertainty and apology are clear in his wide-eyed expression. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell him, or how many days sober I am, some moments continue to be filled with uncertainty. I can’t fault him. He cares deeply and doesn’t want to do anything that might make me relapse.
“You’re good.” I reassure him after Jill hands him a cold one.
“You ready to be my errand boy for the next eight days?” Jill flashes me a grin.
“I’m officially on vacation and all yours.”
She laughs, taking a sip from her own beer and then setting it down on the counter. “You’re probably going to regret that.” She walks past and waves for me to follow her into the living room. “So, I am sure there will be some last-minute adjustments, but I’ve got everything broken down. After dinner we can go over your binder.”
“Binder?”
She picks one up with my name printed on the cover.
“Damn.” I chuckle, accepting the binder that is much heavier than I expect. “You don’t mess around.”
“I want to enjoy the wedding.” She saunters back toward the kitchen and pulls out a chair at the dining table. “I figure, the less I have to remember to remind you and everyone else, the better. The binders are more for my sanity than anything. Callie was the one to implement the color-coding.”
I take a seat across the table and chuckle picturing Jill’s best friend—who also happens to be one of my ex-girlfriends—putting all of this together. She always did have a thing for organization. Examining the daily to-do lists, color-coded and tabbed, I let out a long whistle. Damn. It’s gonna be a busy week. Not that I mind. I’d do anything for Jill and my brother. “I’m impressed.”
“At my organizational skills?” Jill lifts her brows in challenge.
“No, at the fact you still want to marry
