Page 65 of Stuck with Me

The weight of the letters on my lap forces me to return my focus on them. But now I’m conflicted. It feels like a violation of Grandma Gigi’s privacy. I peek back up at Nico and find him watching me.

“You gonna open one of those envelopes or just sit there and cry all night?”

I shoot him a glare even though he’s joking. “How are you so calm about this? Out of the two of us, you should be the one who’s nervous.”

“Oh I’m fucking wrecked, inside.”

I exhale a shaky laugh and return my attention to the envelope on top. I hold it out and read the postdate, “November 21, 1969.”

I glance over at Nico. He’s staring at me with anticipation. Or maybe just worriment. He swallows and I can’t help myself, I mimic him, swallowing past the mountain-sized lump in my throat.

Tugging the folded sheets of paper out of the envelope, I squeeze my eyes tight before opening them and read the letter out loud.

Dear Leo,

I won’t tell you I’ve been keeping track of the days we’ve been apart like some kind of lovesick puppy dog. I won’t tell you I haven’t been doing that either.

Saying our situation is unfair feels like an understatement. I know you have “family obligations,” and I respect you for stepping up. But it doesn’t mean I miss you any less.

Thanksgiving is next week. You were supposed to be home by now. While it was nice of Mr. Martin to invite me, I’m not sure I’ll go there for dinner. What if I came to see you instead? I’m sure I can get some time off work from the diner. Maybe not until after Thanksgiving, though.

Think your mama would mind if I came there and crashed her perfect Southern socialite reputation when I introduce myself to her friends as her son’s live-in girlfriend? Bet she’d get a kick out of that.

I’m kidding. But not kidding about wanting to see you. Maple Ridge isn’t the same without you. The cabin isn’t the same. It’s lonely. I’m not sure how I ever thought I could live here alone.

Come home soon, Cowboy.

All my love, Giana

I liftmy gaze to Nico again and find his eyes tearing. Not nearly as much as mine, but we sit like this for several beats in our shared emotions. No one could understand this feeling except for him. This connection between our grandparents connects us too but in a different way.

Nico sniffs and holds out his palm. “Let me have one.”

I find a letter addressed to Gigi from Leo, but the date stamped on the envelope is before the last one. I hand it to him anyway. I expect him to study the words on the envelope, the lettering, the feel of the paper, but he doesn’t waste time. Instead, just tears into it.

He clears his throat and begins reading.

Dear Giana,

The only thing getting me through our months apart is thinking about being back at the cabin with you. But as each day passes, that dream feels like nothing more than that. A dream. Since my dad fell off the horse and broke his hip while we were at Sara’s horseshow, I’ve been overloaded with work at the ranch.

Even with physical therapy, doctors aren’t sure if my dad will walk again. Training Marco to take over the ranch will take months. The whole situation is unfair.

Here we are again, it seems. Talking about life not being fair. I’d give anything to see you. To hold you in my arms. To touch you. To taste you.

When I get to Maple Ridge (after laying the biggest kiss on your perfect lips, of course), we’re going to the Freeze Hut for a double scoop of rocky road. Make sure Pete doesn’t eat it all up before I get back.

Until then, I’m holding you in my heart, Sugar.

Love, Leo

I tug my sweatshirt sleeve over my hand and swipe it underneath my eyes to wipe the tears. The wordsugarplays over again in my head. It’s a cute term of endearment. I’m partially happy Gigi had someone so sweet care for her like Leo obviously did, but I’m also partially sad for my grandpa. Because I’m still trying to figure out how he fits into this equation.

“So, my granddad’s father broke his hip. And he had to help at the ranch. But was that before he went back to Texas? Or after?” Nico’s frown is intense with two deep lines in between his eyes.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “Want me to read another one?”

“Read the one that came after your grandma’s last one,” he suggests.

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