Page 125 of Breakout
When I got her text earlier saying she needed me, my heart dropped. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew I needed to get to her as fast as possible.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I pull her into my arms.
Peyton buries her face into my chest. “I’m better now.”
As fucked up as it is, that sentence makes me feel ten feet tall.
I pull back slightly and cup her face. “Tell me what’s wrong and why your eyes are red.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I did something stupid.”
“Okay, whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it.”
“I finally did it.”
“Did what, Pey? I’m not following.”
“I read the letter.”
Oh. OH!
“Okay…you’re going to have to give me more than that. I don’t know how that’s something stupid.”
“It was stupid because I never told you I was going to do it.”
“It’s not like you needed permission.”
“I know, but I went and read the letter at the estate. No one knows about any of this, so no one knew where I was, and let’s be honest, my car isn’t the best, so I probably should have given you a heads-up.”
“I mean, yeah, in the future I would appreciate the heads-up, but I get it. Do you want to tell me what it said?”
“Here.” She pulls back and pulls a letter out of her bag.
Quickly I scan the letter. It’s clear Matthias lived with a lot of regret in his life and felt like he let his granddaughter down. It’s a letter of remorse and apologies. To be completely honest, I haven’t been his biggest fan. I can’t imagine knowing that my grandchild was abandoned and not doing anything about it.
“Well, damn. How do you feel?”
“Sad. I mean, I get it.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to like it, though.”
“And I don’t, but there’s no going back now. He’s gone.”
“You know, I hadn’t really thought about it, but it makes sense now that Janis’s mom is gone too. I had wondered why she wasn’t fighting the will.”
“Yeah, I hadn’t thought about it until I read it.” She sighs.
“So I’m assuming we are here for whatever he saved from your parents’ place.”
“Yeah.”
“Come on then. I think you’ve waited long enough.”
Hand in hand we walk into the bank. I wait by her side as they verify her identity. Then they take us back to a small room. Only when the manager finally leaves the room do I let go of her hand and move to wrap my arm around her shoulders.
With shaking hands, she pulls the box closer to us and opens it. When the contents become visible, her breath catches. Right on top is a set of wedding rings, both male and female, along with some other miscellaneous jewelry. Nothing extravagant but all clearly loved.
She reaches in and picks up the wedding rings. “When I was about eleven, I asked my caseworker what happened to their wedding rings. I had seen a movie where a girl got them when her parents died, and I wondered why I hadn’t. She told me she assumed they were buried with them.”
