The Last Letter

I’ve missed you every second, so much it hurts to breathe.

And honestly, who wouldn’t fall for you? We’re three months into this, and I’m half in love with you without ever having been in the same room. Just give the guy—give yourself—a shot at some happiness, because you deserve it.

Or you could wait until January, when I get to randomly show up at your door.

It’s okay that you’re not good with people. In my experience, there are very few people worth making the effort for. I try to give everything I have to those closest to me, and keep that circle small. I’d rather be great for a few people than be mediocre for a bunch

You are enough, Ella. You’re more than enough. I’ve never met a woman who has your strength, your determination, your absolute loyalty to your kids. So I included a little something. Take it out when you need it to remind yourself that you can do this, because I know with absolute certainty that you can.

Because somewhere between letter number one and letter number twenty-four, I’d fallen in love with her. Fallen for her words, her strength, her insight and kindness, her grace under impossible circumstances, her love for her children, and her determination to stand on her own. I could list a thousand reasons that woman owned whatever heart I had.

What would it be like to have someone ground you? Was it comforting to feel that safety? Or was it suffocating? Was it the kind of force you relied on or the type you fled?

Were there really people who stuck around long enough to be considered that dependable? If there were, I’d never met one. It was why I never bothered with relationships. Why the hell would you sign yourself up to invest in someone who would eventually say you were too flawed, too complicated, to keep around?

What’s it like to be the center of someone’s universe?

Attachments—to people, places, or things—were inconvenient or screwed you over. Because there was only one thing certain, and it was change.

“Because I’m the one who got Ryan killed!”

“I mourned you. I cried, Beckett.