Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

My attention goes back to the paper.

And the longer I stare at it, the harder my heart beats.

Bending, I reach down and pick it up.

The paper is folded in thirds. Like a letter.

With Nathan’s back to me, I angle the paper toward the window, where small amounts of city lights are sneaking through.

The paper is lined, with one frayed edge, like it was torn out of a notebook.

A desk that overlooked the woods behind the house.

My lungs struggle to pull in breaths.

Please, no.

My hands start to shake.

Please. To anyone that might be out there. Please don’t let this be what I think it is.

My throat is so tight it’s hard to swallow.

Please.

I unfold the paper.

And everything stops.

It’s my letter.

Theletter.

The one with my biggest secret. My deepest shame.

Why?

Why did you have to find this?

Despair, thick and toxic, fills my soul.

I don’t read the words on the page.

I don’t have to.

My hand drops to my side, and I look at Nathan sleeping soundly. Feet away.

My Nathan.

The man who stepped back into my life and changed everything.

The grown-up version of the boy who befriended me when no one else did.

I don’t know how he found this. Or why he went to my apartment.

But he did find it. And nothing else matters.

I take a step away from the bed.