Page 91 of One Spicy Summer

I punch in the code, race up the stairs, and push open her door.

She’s snoring, loudly, and I can’t help but chuckle. My girl knows how to snore. Pulling a chair from her vanity, I drag it next to her bed and sit down.

Judging by the letters scattered everywhere, she read a good bit. They’ve been in order, since the day I left her life behind.

I don’t want to think about what she might be feeling right now. I just want to be here.

Watching over her.

The way I always should’ve been.

Eventually, my eyelids grow heavy and I drift off, dreaming of a future where she’s always right here, within reach.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Presley

The moment I get comfortable in bed, I hear the rumble of Rygaard’s truck passing along the pavement, escaping the jailhouse he’s been living in ever since I showed up here.

He says I’m not a burden, but that’s exactly what I feel like. And God, how I wish I could run away from all of this.

But that’s not an option.

Not yet.

Instead of planning my escape, I reach for the box he left in front of me.

Taking off the lid, I find a note lying on top of a zillion letters.

Unfolding it, I read:

Princess,

Every single letter is in chronological order, starting the day I was taken from you. You have to read them in order to understand. Toward the front of the box, I labeled it ‘Start Here.’ From there, everything is already in order for you. , Ry

Shit. Even through a damn letter, he still holds a certain kind of power over me. I feel obligated to do exactly as he says.

Pulling out the first envelope marked ‘Start Here,’ I open it and begin to read.

Three hours later, I’m bawling my fucking eyes out.

“Oh, my sweet Ry…” I whisper.All these years, I blamed him for everything I went through, when he was living through his own private hell.

Sniffling, I grab my phone and, with trembling fingers, type the only thing I can manage:Ry Ry??.

Hoping he understands how desperate I am from that simple text, I set the phone back on the nightstand, cuddle into my bed, and hug my pillow close.

The letters I’ve read are scattered all around me. Memories flood my mind, and the tears don’t stop.

I cry myself to sleep with thoughts of the life Ry and I could have had, and maybe, just maybe, still can.

The sound of soft music, birds chirping outside, and the strange sense of being watched pulls me from sleep.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up, and there he is.

Rygaard.

Slumped in a chair beside my bed, sleeping peacefully. Leaning back against the headboard, I just… watch him.

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