Page 68 of Letters of Faith
The question hangs between us, and I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. But when it doesn’t come in one…two…three seconds, I know.
It’s okay, though. Just because Nate wrote Grayson a letter doesn’t mean it says what Harper thinks. Although—why would he hide it from me if it wasn’t bad?
Maybe he was embarrassed by it.
This back-and-forth argument in my head isn’t getting me anywhere, and the longer Grayson waits to answer, the sicker I get to my stomach.
“Yes,” Grayson says at last, but he doesn’t expound. Why doesn’t heexplain?
“Why didn’t you tell me that? I mean, I’ve shown you every letter I’ve received.”
“Because you needed my help to complete Nate’s tasks for you—or at least, you thought you did. I didn’t need your help with mine.”
So Nate did ask him to do something. My stomach twists even more. I’m going to puke by the end of this.
“Can I um—Can I see the letter?” I ask.
Grayson’s fist tighten in his lap, causing the orchid to move on his wrist. My eyes are drawn to it. “It’s a promise to his best friend,” he’d said when Avery had asked him. He used my favorite flower to represent a promise to his best friend—a promise to Nate. He doesn’t move to get the letter, but somehow, I already know that Harper was telling me the truth.
“Get the letter, Grayson,” I demand, my voice turning hard and cold.
He nods and rises from his chair without saying a word. I want to yell at him to say something—anything—but I remain quiet as he walks into the living room and rustles through a box on his bookshelf. His movement becomes frantic as he searches through the box. When he turns back to me without the letter in hand, anger hits me like a freight train.
This is a game to him. I’m a game to him. He doesn’t want me to see that stupid letter because he’s afraid he’ll have to admit what this really has been over the past year. It would mean he has to admit that he’s just another person in my life who thought they knew what was best for me. I thought I was finally making my own decisions—being selfish—but it turns out I was only being played.
Betrayal causes my eyes to sting, and once again, I find it hard to breathe. I thought death hurt, and it does, but it’s a different kind of pain when the person you thought you knew—the one standing right in front of you—isn’t that person. It’s like facing a different kind ofdeath, and I hate it.
“I—I can’t find it. I swore I put it there, but it’s not there. I promise, Georgia,” Grayson pleads as he walks towards me. Those icy blue eyes I love so much are flat, devoid of emotion, and it’s more telling than anything.
“When did you get it, Grayson?” I ask, my voice is cold, but I can’t seem to change it. Every part of me is numb right now. It’s my body’s way of protecting me from the pain I know is coming.
He dips his head, staring at the floor.
“A year ago,” he mumbles.
An icy pain laces through me, stabbing through the numbness.
“A year,” I say quietly. I’m so stupid. “A year?” This time, it comes out as a yell as I leap to my feet. I can’t take sitting here any longer. Pacing back and forth, I let the betrayal slice through me, opening each vein and causing me to bleed.
Every piece of anger I’ve been holding in since Nate died bubbles out of me.
I’m angry—so angry that I don’t know what to do with all of it that’s burning through my body. I’m not just mad at Grayson either. I’m angry at Nate, too—and myself. But the problem is, Grayson is the only one here for me to unleash that anger on.
Fair or not, he gets it all.
Grayson tucks his hand behind his back and has the nerve to look sheepish. He still hasn’t bothered telling me what the letter said. Maybe he can’t find it, but if he weren’t ashamed, he would have already fessed up about what it said. That only leaves one logical conclusion—Harper was right.
Tears clog my throat, but I refuse to let them drip down my face—not in front of him.
Slowly, I approach him until I’m standing right in front of him. He looks up, his eyes roaming my face as he studies me, waiting for whatI have to say.
“I’m leaving,” I say, slowly so he catches every ounce of hurt I’m throwing at him. “I’m going to get my stuff from my apartment and go back home—my home. You’ve done your due diligence. You kept your promise to Nate. Now you’re going to make a promise to me. Don’t follow me. I need space. You’re always telling me to be selfish—well, here it is, I’m being selfish. Every letter I got from Nate felt like being run over by a train. Right now, I have too many feelings to sift through. I can’t do that here with you. I don’t want you to hurt, but at the same time, I’m hurting because you kept this from me. You kept it from me, Gray.”
I want him to understand—no, I need him to understand why this hurts so bad. It has nothing to do with what the letter says. I’m sure that will hurt too, but this pain running through me has everything to do with the fact that he intentionally withheld something from me. It feels like every time the town tried to help me heal. They did so with good intentions, but ultimately, it was because they thought they knew better than I did about what I needed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it’s the final stab that sends me over the edge.
“The day Nate died, I learned that love isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. Love is the single most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, and here you are proving that again because I did, Grayson—love you, that is.”
