Page 27 of Big Risks

"And?"

"And she read them. She pieced together that they were about me and confronted me yesterday.” I stop, swallow hard. "I didn’t want to talk about them right then with Olivia upstairs, but I also didn’t think she would leave."

Jace winces. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

"So explain it to her."

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I tried. She just kept asking questions I couldn’t answer."

"Try harder."

"She's gone, Jace. You just said she left town."

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Since when do you give up so easily? The Walker I know would be halfway to wherever she went by now."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is." He takes a long pull from his beer. "Look, I'm not exactly an expert on healthy relationships—"

"No shit."

"—but even I know you can't keep people out and expect them to stay."

The words hit like a physical blow. I stare at him, this man who's known me since we were skinny kids jumping off the quarry cliffs, and see the truth I've been avoiding.

"She deserved better," I say finally.

"Probably. Most people do." He shrugs. "Question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

I look down at the unopened beer in my hands. "I don't know if there's anything I can do."

"Bullshit." Jace stands up. "You're Walker Ellison. You survived two tours in Afghanistan. You're raising the best kid, well okay, the third best kid in town,” he pauses and winks at me. “You built this house with your own two hands." He gestures around us. "You're telling me you can't figure out how to tell a woman you love her?"

"I never said I love her."

Jace gives me a look that could wither crops. "You didn't have to."

After he leaves, I sit in silence for a long time. The house creaks and settles around me, a living thing with its own heartbeat. I think about Hailey's face when she confronted me about the letters. The hurt in her eyes. The way she looked at me like I was a stranger.

Going to my desk, I pull out a fresh sheet of paper. The blank page stares back at me, daring me to fill it with truth. I pick up a pen.

Dear Hailey,

I pause, already stuck. What can I possibly say that will make her understand? That will make her forgive me? I start again.

Hailey,

I don't know if you'll read this. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But I need to write it anyway, because there are things I should have told you a long time ago.

Then I start pouring my heart out, but only get a few paragraphs in before I have to stop, my hand shaking slightly. I've never written this down before. Never said it out loud to anyone. But if there's any chance of Hailey understanding, she needs to know everything. So I keep going, pushing through.

After reading the letter twice, I fold it carefully. From Olivia's art desk, I retrieve the drawing she made of the three of us—me, her, and Hailey—standing in front of our house with exaggerated smiles and stick-figure hands. "My family," she'd written across the top in rainbow letters.

I told her to hold on to it thinking it would scare Hailey off that we were moving too fast. But now I’m hoping it is what will bring her back to me.

Putting both in an envelope, I drive to Hailey's house. The place looks deserted, curtains drawn, no car in the drive. I leave the envelope propped against her door, weighted down with a small stone from her garden.

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