Dirty Letters

Day five and nothing.

I didn’t know what I’d expected, but each day I went to my mailbox, finding it empty, made me feel a little more hopeless.

Griffin had poured his heart out in song, so I’d decided to do the same thing in my own way, doing what I did best—writing. I’d stayed up the entire night after the LA concert and let my heart bleed onto paper. I told him I’d been scared and thought it was the right thing to do to let him go, but that I’d finally realized I was more afraid of losing him than any single fear I could possibly have. I feared being trapped in a physical place, but that was nothing compared to living life with my heart trapped.

Starting around page fourteen of my rambling letter, I’d also laid out some thoughts on how we might be able to make it work. I’d researched possible places I could live not too far from LA. There were some really nice rural communities within a fifty-mile radius of Los Angeles. I hated to leave Doc, but he’d said we could do video therapy and promised that if I did decide to relocate, that he would visit a few times a year. Last night, he’d even come over with a list of birds recently spotted in the Topanga Canyon area—one of the places I’d mentioned might be a good fit for me out in California. And he and Martha had been chatting about him stopping by again at some point.

But now it was starting to feel like I’d jumped the gun with my planning. I still had Griffin’s travel schedule and confirmed that the letter I’d overnighted to his hotel had been personally delivered to him three days ago. When he didn’t call or text right away, I refused to believe that he was done with me. So I’d convinced myself that the reason it was taking so long to hear from him was because he wanted to write back to me in a letter. Talk about clinging to false hopes. Though now realization had begun to set in that the true reason it was taking so long might actually be because he wasn’t planning on responding at all.

And I couldn’t blame him. All my mental health issues were enough trouble, but then I’d gone and broken things off. How many times could a man be expected to offer his heart just to have the woman he loved stomp on it? At some point, he’d smarten up and move on, and, unfortunately, I might’ve driven him to that point the last time I’d pushed him away.

A feeling of melancholy settled in that evening. I didn’t have the energy to write or pretty much do anything productive at all, so I ordered Chinese takeout and plopped myself on the couch with a set of chopsticks and a cardboard container in my hands. Hortencia was lying on her bed across the room and looked over at my unshowered ass and seemed to shake her head and sigh.

“Yeah. I know. But what can I tell you? There are days you don’t smell so pretty yourself.”

Great. Now I was talking to a dead girl and arguing with a pig.

Flicking on the television, I mindlessly pushed the “Channel” button, looking for something to watch. Where were all the tearjerker movies when you needed them? Dear John, A Dog’s Purpose, maybe Me Before You. Nothing seemed to be on but the news and reality TV. Giving up, I tossed the remote on the couch next to me and dug into my container to wallow in food.

My mouth was stuffed so full that I nearly choked hearing the name Cole Archer on the television. I looked up and my stomach did a flip seeing Griffin’s handsome face on the screen.

“It’s good to see you,” the reporter said.

“Good to see you, too, Maryanne.”

Griffin and some pretty dark-haired reporter with big eyes were standing in front of a stadium. A bunch of teenage girls and women were in the background shouting his name. Maryanne glanced back at them. “Looks like your fans are excited for the last show of your tour tonight.”

He flashed a dimpled grin at the crowd and waved. “I’m just as excited as they are for tonight.”

God, so much emotion came over me seeing his smile—excitement, sadness, longing.

“So Cole . . . you unveiled a new song to the world a few nights ago. Can you tell us about it? Who is this mystery woman, and how long have you two been together?”

I held my breath and stared at the TV. My heart started to hammer inside my chest but then stopped when the smile on Griff’s face fell. “There is no woman, really. She was just a figment of my imagination.”

“So you’re not in a relationship with someone named Luca, then?”

Griff looked away. He shook his head. “Sometimes when you want to believe someone exists badly enough, you make up an entire fantasy about a relationship in your head. That’s all it was.”

It felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. Oh God, Griffin. What we have is real. I swear.

Maryanne looked at the camera and smiled. “You heard it here first, ladies. There is no Luca. Which means we still have one very eligible bachelor, Seattle.”

The woman kissed Griff on the cheek, and he walked toward the entrance to the stadium without looking back.

I stared at the television as the enormity of what had just transpired kicked in. Tears started to stream down my face. I’d really lost him.

Accepting that Griffin and I were over was a lot like losing Izzy. I went through the different stages of loss. I’d wake up each morning thinking it was a bad dream—denial. Then it would hit me that I’d really lost him, and the pain would come back with a vengeance. I knew I’d wavered back and forth about our relationship, but by midafternoon the fact that he hadn’t answered my letter made me angry. I’d believed him when he said he loved me—that he’d give me time and would be there waiting if things changed. I guess I hadn’t realized that time . . . was limited to two weeks. By evening, I was scooping mint–chocolate chip ice cream directly from the half-gallon container to eat away my sadness—depression. Then when I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d lie in bed staring up at the ceiling for hours cooking up a crazy scheme to get him to change his mind—bargaining. The last stage—acceptance—had taken me eight years to arrive at for Izzy, and I felt like this one could take longer.

Doc came over for our morning therapy session, and my tired ass was dragging. I had to force myself to get dressed for our walk in the woods but figured some fresh air would do me good. “Have you heard from Griff?” I asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in my voice.

He frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Luca, I haven’t.”

“But you’d tell me if you had, right?”

“Yes, I’d tell you.”

It wasn’t like I was sitting around waiting for Griff to call or return my letter anymore—eight days had now passed since he’d received my heart on a platter, and three since he’d told the world there was no Luca. Yet I still held out some sort of stupid hope that he at least wanted to check on me, that he at least cared.

“Let me ask you something, Doc. Would you think I was ridiculous if I went out to LA to talk to him, even though he’s made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to have contact with me?”

“I think sometimes in life we have to go for the gusto, and if people don’t think we’re acting ridiculous, then we’re not trying hard enough.”

I nodded. “I just feel like I need closure. I spent the last eight years obsessing over what would have happened if I hadn’t bought Izzy and me the tickets to that concert. I can’t spend the next eight years wondering what might have happened if I’d gone to talk to him one last time.”

“Our fears are temporary—they come and go throughout life. But regret is permanent—we carry it with us forever. If you go and it doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, you’ll be sad, but you’ll be able to move on knowing you tried to win his heart back.”

“You’re right. I need to do it. Even if he slams the door in my face, I need to shout through it and give it everything I have.”

Doc smiled. “My sister is in New Mexico with her daughter for the rest of the summer, so I still have the RV. I could gas it up, and we could leave tonight.”

I appreciated the offer, I really did. And having a road companion for that long haul made the trip so much more bearable. But yet, it felt like this was something I needed to do on my own. I’d just have to take double the time and go slow. I’d relied on Doc enough. This trip was something I needed to do for Griffin and me, but it was also something I needed to do just for myself.

“Thank you so much for the offer, Doc. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. But do you think your sister would mind if I borrowed the RV myself?”

Doc stopped in place. “Yourself? You want to drive three thousand miles alone?”

I hoped I hadn’t hurt his feelings. “Yes. I can’t explain it, but I feel like it’s something I really need to do alone.”

Doc took a deep breath in and out and smiled. “Now you’re talking. Go for the gusto, Luca.”

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I’d spent the last day and a half preparing. I had the same route Doc and I had taken last time mapped out on my phone and also on printed maps. Because I’d be traveling all alone, I reduced my driving schedule each day to three hundred miles. I’d researched safe spots to park each night—RV places with security and good ratings—and I’d stocked the camper with all the essentials I’d need for two weeks. The gas tank was full, the oil was changed, and Doc had disassembled the passenger seat and removed it so that Hortencia’s bed could sit on the floor in the front with me.

The sun had just started to go down, and I walked around my house double-checking I had turned everything off and unplugged any potential fire hazards. I stopped in my bedroom and had my hand on the light switch, about to turn it off, when the framed photo of Isabella and me caught my eye from the nightstand. I walked over and picked it up.

“It feels like you should be coming with me. But in my heart I know I need to do this on my own. Though that’s not true, is it, Izzy? I don’t need the photo to have you with me, because you’ll always be in my heart.” I took a deep breath and ran my finger over her face. “I’m going to go be fearless. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

I set the frame back down on my nightstand and this time smiled looking back before closing the door. In the kitchen, I grabbed Hortencia’s leash and bent to get her water bowl. As I stood, a flash of light hit me in the eyes through the blinds. The window over the sink faced the front of the house, and I leaned forward and separated two of the slats to peer out. Finding headlights, I smiled and shook my head. Doc had wanted to come see me off for my trip, but I’d told him it would be late and he didn’t have to. I should’ve known he’d show up anyway. I grabbed my purse and a few last-minute things and headed outside.

The second I opened the screen door, Hortencia took off running and groinking toward the headlights. She loved Doc. I locked up the door and shielded my eyes as I turned. He must’ve had his brights on the entire drive over, because it looked like a floodlight was beaming at me. “Doc . . . turn off your headlights!” I walked a few steps forward and the lights went out.

It took my eyes a solid ten seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, I froze. It wasn’t Doc’s car in my driveway, and it definitely wasn’t Doc.

Griffin hopped down from the driver’s seat of a giant RV and slammed the door shut. We both stood there just staring for the longest time.

“What . . . what are you doing here?” I finally said.

He nodded to Doc’s sister’s RV parked next to the one he’d come out of. I had it running to warm it up. “Going somewhere?”

I swallowed. “I was . . . going to drive to California to see you.”

Neither of us moved. “Is Doc in the RV already?”

I shook my head. “I was driving alone.”

Griffin’s brows rose. “You were going to drive three thousand miles by yourself?”

I nodded. “I needed to see you.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, here I am. Got something you need to say?”

I’d spent days thinking about what I would say when I showed up at his front door, yet now that I was standing twenty feet away from him, I didn’t know where to even begin.

Griffin took a few steps toward me, the gravel crunching under his feet as he walked. He pulled something out of his pocket and held it up. “I got your letter.”

“I know. I tracked it and saw that you signed for it.”

He shook his head. “Styx signed for it. Not me.”

“Your drummer?”

“I’d gotten drunk and passed out in my room. Styx’s room was next door, and he heard the hotel manager knocking and took the letter for me. When he saw the return address, he decided the last thing I needed was more communication from you.” He paused. “You fucked me up pretty good, Luca.”

It felt like a tennis ball was stuck in my throat, and no matter how many times I tried to swallow, I couldn’t get rid of it.

Griffin closed the distance between us and extended the letter I’d written back to me. It was still sealed.

“You . . . you didn’t open it?”

Griff shook his head back and forth slowly. “I was on my way to the airport when Styx finally decided to give it to me. I didn’t want anything you’d written inside to change my mind about coming, so I didn’t read it.”

My forehead wrinkled. I’d fucked him up, yet he was here without having read my letter. “Where were you going when he gave you the envelope?”

“Here.”

“But . . . but why?”

“I’m angry at you. I’m pissed off. I’m tired from not sleeping. I don’t want to sing another goddamn song with your name in it. I’m irritated as hell. But the fact remains that I still want to spend every angry, pissed-off, tired, irritated moment with you. So I don’t give a flying shit what’s in this letter. I’m here, and I’m not leaving until we figure this out. I don’t have anywhere to be for three months, so if you won’t let me stay, then my new tricked-out RV that cost me more than my house in California is going to be parked outside your house for a long-ass time.”

Oh my God. We’d come full circle. I’d stopped reading his letters so many years ago, and here he was today handing me my unopened one in person. I’d taken a crazy chance and parked my RV in front of his house, and here he was today ready to park in front of mine for a chance at us.

I took the letter from Griffin’s hand and opened the seal. My voice was low and shaky when I started to read.

“Dear Griffin,

“For eight years, I’ve been afraid of the dark.

“For eight years, I’ve been afraid of letting go.

“For eight years, I’ve been afraid of being trapped.

“For eight years, I’ve been afraid of fire.

“For eight years, I’ve been afraid of trying.

“Your love made me realize I wasn’t really ever afraid of the dark, I was afraid of what lurked inside the darkness.

“I wasn’t afraid of letting go, I was afraid to accept what was already gone.

“I wasn’t afraid of being trapped, I was afraid to be free.

“I wasn’t afraid of fire, I was afraid to be burned.

“I wasn’t afraid of trying, I was afraid of getting hurt.”

I knew the next few lines by heart, so I lowered my letter and spoke into Griffin’s eyes.

“I’m not saying I’m better, because I have a long road ahead of me. But I’m tired of letting fear rule my life. I’m terrified of loving you, Griffin. I’m terrified of what would happen if I let myself love you and then lost you.”

I looked up and saw Griffin’s eyes filled with tears.

“But I’m more terrified of living my life without your love than I am of taking a chance. So please forgive me. I screwed up. And I’m probably going to screw up some more.” I reached out my hand. “Please take me back, Griffin. Because I love you more than the total of all my fears put together.”

Griffin’s eyes went back and forth between mine. “What do you call a twenty-five-year-old British rock star who meets the girl of his dreams through a letter in second grade and drives to her house after she dumps him?”

I laughed. “I don’t know. Impetuous?”

Griff took both my cheeks into his hands. “Home. You call him finally home.”