139. Nate

ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE

NATE

Something hard hits the bridge of my nose.

"Shit," I groan and roll onto my back.

Charles leans over my face and meows.

It's so loud I wince.

"Fuck, man, give me a moment."

I look at the ceiling, early morning light filling the room.

And then it all comes crashing back.

The night before.

The letter.

The fucking heartbreak.

Charles meows again.

I reach for him, not wanting him to wake up Rosie.

I turn my head to the side.

Where's Rosie?

I sit up.

Charles bumps his head into my elbow.

The bathroom lights are off.

The bedroom door is shut.

Where…?

My eyes move to my clothes on the floor .

Just my clothes.

I scramble out of bed.

Where's the letter?

I toss my pants and shirt aside, but the letter isn't under them.

I stride into the bathroom, double-checking.

Why didn't I burn that fucking letter?

My heart starts to pound.

I was going to talk to her about it this morning.

I was going to hold her in bed and tell her it would all be okay.

I was going to make her understand that we would be okay.

I race to the bedroom door.

The handle clicks when I turn it.

She locked it?

I rip the door open.

And immediately I know…

She's gone.

The walls press in on me as I jog down the hall.

"Rosie!"

But she doesn't answer, because she's not here.

Charles jumps onto the island, and I glance at him, then turn my attention to the counter.

The notebook I used last night is still out, but it's turned to a different page. A new one, filled with words.

I don't think I can survive another one of Rosie's letters.

But I also can't do anything but read it.

With anxiety clinging to every cell in my body, I pick up the notebook.

Dear Nathan,

I'm sorry I never told you.

I don't know how or why, but I'm sorry you found out this way. And I hope you'll understand why I couldn't tell you.

I wanted to.

I wanted to tell you everything, but I knew that once I did, it would be over.

And even though I knew it was coming, I didn't want it to be over.

If you feel like you have to call the police, I won't blame you. But I won't be at my apartment.

I was ready to die back then. But I'm not ready for that anymore.

You've given me so much. And I will never be able to thank you enough.

But you told me not to pretend.

And that's all this ever was.

You were always a pretend comfort for me, and I never should have crossed that line into reality.

We were only meant to be letters in a box.

I won't let my life ruin yours.

Love,

Rosalyn

Rosalyn.

She signed it fucking Rosalyn .

Putting distance between us with every word.

I tear the page out of the notebook and crumple it in my fist.

She thinks I'd call the fucking cops on her.

How could she believe that?

How could she even think that?

Because she's had a lifetime of disappointment and isolation.

I spin around and stride toward my office.

If she thinks I'll let her go, she's out of her damn mind.

I drop into my chair and fire up my computer.

I'm not letting her go.

Not today.

Not ever.

As my equipment wakes up, I initiate a call.

Tony answers. "For real, do you ever fucking sleep?"

"What do you know about medical records?"

"Now, that's an interesting question." I've caught his attention. "And lucky for you, I know quite a bit."

"I can handle the digital, but I need the physical copies destroyed."

He hums. "That can be done. Where?"

My fingers tighten around the phone. "My hometown."

"Name?"

I tell him.

Hanging up, I pull up the software that shows me Rosie's location.

The glowing dot is steady on the map.

I zoom in.

Two towns away, at a chain hotel.

She didn't believe me when I said I could find her. But I wasn't lying.

And I was never pretending.

She'll understand that soon.

I just need to do a few things first.