Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

Already in my pajamas— another loose tank top with a thin pair of sleep pants— I leave my light off and drop onto my bed.

I cried a little after Maddox left. But unlike the other times, it was more from an overall feeling of depression rather than piercing heartache.

I believe him about the letter.

There’s no reason for him to lie.

But it’s all just so… disappointing.

The lost time.

Ships passing in the night.

So close to…

I sigh.

So close to what?

Even if he’d gotten the letter and called, it wouldn’t have meant anything.

One year later, he’d have gone to play with the pros, and I couldn’t have followed. Even if things were good between us, I couldn’t have asked him to financially support my mom so I could go with him to Arizona.

I almost roll my eyes because, after watching those two all night, I actually don’t doubt that Maddox would’ve helped in any way he could.

But we weren’t his responsibility.

In the dark, I turn my head toward my bookshelves.

I noticed his pause when he was leaving, and I know he saw it. His book.

I always felt a little bad about keeping it since it was library property. But I weighed the book’s importance to me against the weight keeping it would have on my cosmic karmic scale and decided it was worth it. I’d take the hit to keep a part of him close to me.

My eyes stay focused on the spot as I think about that night when I read the beginning to Maddox.

I climb out of bed and turn on the small lamp on my bedside table.

In the dim light, I go to the bookshelf and trail my fingers down the spine before I pull it free.

I’ve read this book cover to cover so many times that the binding doesn’t so much as creak when I open it.

The pages fall open to the first line.

On February twenty-fourth…

Something taps against my bedroom window, startling me, and I drop the book.

It lands on the top of my foot, sending a zing of pain up my leg.

“Shit!” I lift my foot in the air and shake it around.

There’s another tap. “Hannah?”

I freeze. “Maddox?” I thought the noise was a branch.

I pick up the book and slide it back into place before limping to the window.

The fact that we can hear each other so well is more proof that we need to install new windows in this house. The drafty things are practically worthless.