Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

I’m sorry to give you a note like this, but I don’t want to leave without telling you where I’m going. And I can’t leave without letting you know how much last night meant to me. Not just the locked-in part, but all the stuff that came before it too.

Being around you makes me feel safe. Like I’m protected from anything bad. And you… You make me feel small in a world where I’ve always felt too big.

And I know we just met, and I know it will be hard to do long distance, but I’d like to try. I’d like to still see you. Or at least talk to you.

I hate that we never exchanged phone numbers. I assumed we’d have time to do it later. But since my time has run out, here is my number. 651-555-1304

There’s no easy way to say this next part, so I’ll just do it.

My mom had a stroke last night and is in the hospital. They say she’ll be okay, but I need to move back home to help her run our store.

And I don’t think I’ll be able to come back.

I’ve already emailed my adviser to drop my classes. I’ve packed up everything in my dorm room. And by the time you’re reading this, I’ll either be at the bus stop outside the quad or back home in St. Paul.

I don’t want to go.

And the biggest reason I want to stay is you.

I’ll miss running into you. Miss you catching me when I fall off step stools. Miss hearing you call me Bunny. Miss reading to you.

We could still do that last one over the phone. Which isn’t as good as sitting side by side, but it’s better than nothing.

I’m sorry again for how sudden this is. But I hope you understand. And I hope you call.

Love,

Utley

ONE

HANNAH – 15 YEARS LATER

“Knock, knock.” The man’s voice cuts through the silence in my office.

“Hi, Brandon.” I greet him, typing out the last line of an email.

When I hit send, I look up from my computer.

Brandon is… okay. Cute in a middle-aged, I wear fleece vests as a fashion statement kind of way. But he’s not my preferred brand. No matter how many times he not-so-subtly tries to ask me to dinner. Or drinks. Or to his lake house for the weekend.

Even though we both know our salaries don’t allow us to purchase second residences. Which means he’s referring to his parents’ house over on Darling Lake. And I don’t know what I dislike more, the way he bends the truth or the cologne he wears.

Taking a calming breath, I remind myself that I’m extra stressed today and that he’s not that bad.

I force a smile on my face. “What’s up?”

Brandon props his shoulder against my doorframe. “Have you had your interview yet?”

And there it is, the reason for my stress. “Not yet.”

The company I’ve worked at for years was just purchased by another company.

We knew it was a possibility. That the owners had been considering selling. But Monday’s email told us the deal had been finalized and signed that morning. And that we were all now employees of MinneSolar because our company was being absorbed by this new one.

And if that wasn’t terrifying enough, the email also stated that we would be reinterviewing with the new executive team for our current jobs on Wednesday. Today.

My manager told me not to worry about it. That it’s standard procedure and more of a way for the new brass to get to know the employees.