Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-Five

LETTIE - SIX WEEKS LATER

H ow lucky am I to have friends that know me so well and love me so much? If Brooke wouldn't have sensed something was wrong, and rushed over, I may not be alive today.

My mom never visited me during my hospital stay or at home, but I'm grateful she informed the nurse about the medication she had given me. I had finally decided to go to Dane's big game and see if he was in love with another woman and desperately hoped that I had misunderstood his text, so I took my ADHD medicine for the first time, due to being pregnant, even after I fell off of Diamond Mine and miscarried.

I believed my birth mother's motives were genuine rather than solely driven by money. Emotions cascaded when I found her on my doorstep, but I now understand she only wanted money from me.

She didn 't apologize for being a shitty parent, and it's been two months without her contacting me. I hope she's getting help, but regardless, she won't be part of my life.

I don't push my feelings to the side anymore; I own them. I do my best to say them aloud even if I'm the only one in the room.

"I don't need the woman who birthed me. I refuse to say the words, ‘my mom!'" I shout.

There, that feels better.

When I look at my phone, I listen to a voicemail and then send off a message to Dane.

Me: Morning. How do you feel about spending New Year's Eve at the football stadium?

Dane: Morning, bestie. Why?

Unable to contain my excitement, I call. "You're not going to believe this, but the country duo that was headlining the New Year's Eve party at Stallions Stadium backed out. One of them has laryngitis. And they want us to do a set."

He sighs. "We play Louisville that day. I only have Christmas Day off, so I won't have much time to practice."

"We'll put on a show for Granny and Paps. They'll love it."

"And Mom. Don't forget my mom."

This is the first Christmas that Dane will spend without his dad. Mrs. Greathouse filed for divorce, and Dane hasn't spoken to his dad since he caught him cheating on his mom. I wish I didn't know how he felt, but I do. The re's a spot inside, reserved for your parents, no matter what they do. Unfortunately, it's a really hard place to fill.

"This will be the first time your mom has had dinner at my house and then we can go to your basement and practice."

Dane says, "I wish we… yeah, we'll practice in the basement and then sing for fifty thousand people. If you're up for it, I'm in. I'll pick you up tomorrow, Bug."

"Eeek, so excited. Thanks, Dane the Great."

Every morning since that night in the hospital, Dane and I have exchanged good morning texts. We've given each other friendship kisses but haven't crossed the line into passionate ones even though my body ignites with every touch from him.

Despite not knowing exactly when we'll take the next step in our relationship, we're confident that our future is meant to be shared together. We're keeping the flame flickering but not blazing, until we both trust ourselves not to be consumed.

I continue to pack my overnight bag, filling it with gifts for the people who are present in my life.—my family of friends. Then I sit to write a paper for one of my professors who refused to let me withdraw from his class. I've taken all the tests, but he's asked me to write a paper on How Math Can Help in Your Relationships.

Relationships are numbers, even the fuzzy stuff. I reflected on my past and was able to assign a number to a special person in my life. How our friends hip filled my bucket. Why?

Genuine affection. His smile and hugs were there even when covered in mud or when my hair was short, and it frizzed in the summer.

Similar Interests. We loved to play games of any kind, and we were both competitive.

Opposite interests. He loved sports and reading. I loved math and science. But we were always interested in what each other had to say.

Common Values. We loved our families and each other fiercely. Loved our small town. And we both always wanted to help others, whether it was taking in a wounded turtle or helping a child climb the monkey bars.

Dane and I scored one hundred percent on all of the above.

It took almost dying for me to look at life through the lens of a mathematical equation. All of these things equal love of some kind, especially friendship, but this is only one side of the equation for the marriage kind of love.

The things that matter in everlasting love as a couple is passion, communication, and the ability to forgive. I wrote in a journal every time something went wrong between us and saw patterns of our behavior. And I knew we had work to do in the communication area.

Someo ne smart said, "Past results are indicative of future behavior." And if I don't want to repeat the things that broke us, then we have to change our communication.

I spoke with this person every day, sometimes two or three times, and we were physically together for sixteen years. I didn't realize that communication was actually our problem, but it was. After reflecting on our interactions, I realized that we were only being truthful about eighty percent of the time when we had disagreements.

Omitting the truth. Lying to save the other, instead of being completely honest and facing the dangers together or making a plan.

So, thinking about relationships in a mathematical term might not be an actual equation that a professor chalks out on the blackboard, but internally, your mind knows and makes the calculations. When your mind feels endangered, it triggers responses.

It tells you to retreat—to put space between you and what may hurt you.

I spend another hour rewording and adding examples. Statistics: professors love it when you put things in realistic terms. Math: people love things in black and white. Numbers don't lie.

Dane and I have had long, hard conversations about how things went wrong. We've been honest with our friends and asked them to point out when they feel we're hiding something from the other. Neither of us confided in ou r friends or asked them for advice when we broke up. We just kept it all inside, which left us with nowhere to turn.

A few nights ago, when I asked him if he was being honest, he said, "I don't know how much more honest I can be."

But when I asked, "Are you happy where our relationship is right now at being best friends?"

I'll never forget the pain in his eyes when he said, "No, I want so much more."

We held hands. "See, it wasn't that hard to complete your thoughts. I'm asking that we complete our thoughts and leave nothing out. I don't want to be your parents one day and not know when things started going south."

He grabbed me in a hug and said, "Me either."

With my laptop closed, I drive over to Reed and Brooke's place to drop off a present to Caleb from Dane and me. We had Christmas with all of our friends, a couple of weeks ago on a Tuesday night because it was the only night the guys didn't have a late game or practice. We played games, which is a prerequisite for any Chatham family holiday. Hagan and Harper bought everyone pajamas that said Campus Stallions Friendsmas.

"Hey, is anyone home?" I peek my head inside the door.

"Lettie!" Caleb screams and shoots like a bullet into my arms, nearly knocking me over and the presents along with it.

"I'm go ing to miss you while you're visiting your grandpa." I squeeze him extra hard. I've spent so much time here this semester, especially after I let my mom almost kill me. In my mind, I correct myself. No, since I willingly took what she was offering, she's not to blame—I am.

He jumps up and down. "Are those for me?"

Brooke says, "Caleb Sweet. That isn't polite." Her voice is stern, and I hope I'm half the mom she is.

"Sowy, Lettie. But Mommy, the bags have dinosaurs with Santa hats."

Not wanting him to get in trouble, I say, "Yes, they're for my favorite boy."

Brooke says, "See, Caleb, they're for Dane." She gives me her trademark lifting of the brow and small dip of her chin.

"Lettie loves Dane. Lettie loves Dane." Caleb dances around, and I hold out the bag.

"I do love Dane, but I love you sooooo much. They're from Dane and me."

He opens up the Minions basketball, and you would have thought we spent thousands of dollars. Caleb spins it between his chubby little hands, then immediately dribbles it around the house.

Reed comes down dressed in his hockey wear. "No. Just no," he says, laughing.

"He looks like a natural," I say, grinning from ear to ear. "Caleb, put that down and open this one."

Caleb rips off the paper, turns it over, and tears off more. He studies it and sounds out the letters on the box. "K, mm, ss, tt, ww, ya. Kmsstwya."

"Good try, buddy. It's a chemistry set. You can make a volcano explode. Turn water red and shock your daddy."

"Can we play it now? Can we? Can we?" he asks, bouncing on his toes.

Brooke glares at me. "You're staying. And cleaning up."

"Okay, kiddo, let's move this to the kitchen."

I hear Reed say to Brooke, "She's going to be a great mom." My heart flutters, and my skin flushes at the compliment.

"Dane Greathouse, get your finger out of the mashed potato bowl," Granny says, smacking Dane with the towel that's flipped over her shoulder.

"Ouch. You put your finger in the bowl," he argues.

Granny says, "Because I know where my fingers have been. I have no idea where yours have been." She gives him a pointed stare. "Now go set the table. Lettie, help me fill the glasses."

Dane leaves, and Granny takes the moment to ask, "Still best friends?" I nod. "Do you want to be more?"

I take a breath, remembering to be truthful. "Yes, but I'm scared."

"Scared o f what? That boy smiles at you like you're his whole world."

"That we'll repeat what happened. We'll be too busy for each other, and we'll self-destruct."

She has the knife in her hand, carving the ham, and points it at me. "Now I may just be a mountain girl, but one thing I know about is love. Love ain't easy, and sometimes it hurts. Paps and me, we've been dealt some hard knocks. I never told you, but I lost a baby, years after I had your mama."

"Why didn't you tell me when I…?"

"Because I didn't want to make your pain about me. You needed to grieve your loss, not mine. It was the hardest thing I went through until your mama chose drugs over you. Speaking of your mama, a friend of mine said she's at a shelter in Maven County, if you want to see her. I think she's clean at the moment. If you want to go see her, we can."

Tears fill my eyes, but I speak my truth. "She has her life, and I have mine. I don't need that hole filled. I'm saving those holes for the children I'll have one day."

"Oh sweetie, you're going to be the best mother, and Dane is…"

"Dane's what?" he asks, leaning against the fridge.

Granny's scratchy giggle floats through the air. Dane has that effect on women of all ages. "I was just sayin' Dane is hungry. Aren't ya?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mom is on her way."

His mom arr ives bearing gifts. It's the most relaxed I've ever seen her at Christmas. She's normally dressed to the hilt, rushing around making sure the tablescapes are beautiful, all the decorations match in each room, cooking, and plating each dish. Believe me, she still looks as classy as they come. Instead of heels, she has on Sperry's. And instead of wearing her diamonds, she wears classic gold hoops. After we stuff ourselves, Dane and Paps clean up the table and wash the dishes, while I put the leftovers away.

When I walk into the den, Mrs. Greathouse and Granny cackle. I hear Mrs. Greathouse say, "He asked for Paps' permission? Really?"

My face tingles, and goosebumps pop up over my skin. Asked Paps for permission? Is he asking me to marry him when I'm wearing a flannel shirt and jeans?

"Time to open presents!" Granny announces.

Dane gives his mom a weekend at a spa getaway at a new resort in a little town called Kissing Springs. "Oh sweetie, I've heard wonderful things about Kissing Springs. It's the Romance Capital of the South, I hear." She chuckles, and Dane closes his eyes, trying to shake the thought of his mom dating, even though he wants what makes her happy.

And together, we take Granny and Paps outside to see the new high-efficiency washer/dryer combo we bought them. "You two shouldn't have spent your money on us. This is too much," Paps says.

Dane slings his long arm around Paps. "You've taught me everything other than basketball. About how to be a man. When I can do more, you and Grans will have whatever y ou want."

Granny kisses me and then Dane. "Thank you," she says, holding back tears over a laundry machine.

Dane says, "There's one condition." Granny lifts a crooked brow because gifts aren't supposed to be conditional. "The clothesline stays. One day, there will be children playing under it, and I want them to have the same experiences Lettie and I had."

My throat hurts and feels like I'm going to burst into tears. How did I get so lucky to have all of these people in my life? They're all I need.

Granny whispers, "You don't have the money for this."

"I do."

Mrs. Greathouse has helped me figure out how my finances work with my sponsorships. I know Dane's dad cares about me because he set up a trust for me. The money I've made from jumping and sponsorships goes into a trust, then the trust pays the bills to take care of Diamond Mine's expenses, Jasper, and the rest goes into a fund for me, and I get a monthly stipend—a percentage of what's left from my earnings. Two weeks ago, I earned ten thousand dollars for winning an event. And I held a clinic last week with the Stallions equestrian team, earning four thousand dollars, which didn't go into the trust but straight into my bank account.

As much as I love numbers, I can't believe I didn't dive into this earlier. I trusted Gregg Greathouse and this time, he didn't let me down. He sent Dane a Christmas card, a sking for a second chance, but it's still too fresh for Dane.

When we're back inside, Mrs. Greathouse hands a small box to Granny and a card to Paps. Granny opens the box. "It's beautiful." It's a necklace engraved with Mothers don't always give birth to their child." My tough as nails Granny tears up, and Mrs. Greathouse isn't prepared for the hug Granny gives her, practically knocking her over. "I should give this to you."

Paps opens his card, and it's a membership to the Sportsman's Club. "Thank you. Hope you like our gift." He gets up and lifts the heavy present, placing it in front of her.

She rips the bow like a five-year-old kid. She pulls out the first jar. "Beans" Then the second, "Salsa. How spicy? Oh, this looks good." And the third. "Peaches. Thank you."

Paps laughs, "There are six of each. Dane says peaches and beans out of the can aren't as good."

"Thank you so much. If you wouldn't mind teaching me how to garden, I would love to start one this year. Dane has always raved about your green beans and after lunch, I know why."

I hand Dane his gift. He kisses me on the cheek. "Can't wait for this one." He slides the homemade bow with three layers of ribbon off the sides. "Did you make the bow?"

"Yeah."

"It's beautiful, like you," he says as he opens the box. He pulls out a black leather jacket. He holds it up, admiring it. "You're secretly in love with John Travolta, aren't ya?"

"I am. Ex cept he's six-foot-six, young, athletic, and my best friend."

He pulls me into his lap. "Do you want me to wear it all of the time or just on New Year's Eve?"

"Whenever. Why do clothes go in and out of style? Why does a perfectly gorgeous leather jacket go out of style?"

"Always pondering the great questions of the world. I love that about you. Nothing is too big or small for my Lettie."

My Lettie. I love hearing those words from his lips.

Mrs. Greathouse says, "My great-grandmother had five dresses in the same style that she wore every day and when she would wear them out, she would sew another one in the same style."

Dane hands me three gifts in three coordinating wrapping papers and tied with one bow from an expensive boutique right off campus, near The Sugar Shack. He says, "Start with the smallest one."

It's the size of a jewelry box. Is it a ring? When I open it, I'm not disappointed. It's a bracelet that has a horse charm, an Olympic charm, a microphone, a heart, an equal's sign, and a pair of baby shoes.

"Thank you," I whimper as I finger each charm. "What's the equal sign for?"

He uses a hushed tone, "That we're equal in this relationship. Your sadness is mine. My problems are yours. And since you love math, I thought it was perfect. Open the next one."

"I love i t." I don't mention the baby shoes because we both understand its meaning.

The next one is a little bigger and feels like a globe as I remove it from the box. It's a clear ornament with the number seventeen painted on it. "Seventeen?"

"Look on the back."

Seventeen years together and counting.

Love, Dane

I squeeze his neck and kiss him on the cheek. "To infinity and beyond." It was the summer before first grade when I was placed in my grandparents' care, seventeen years ago. The year my life changed for the better.

The last one is heavy. It's in a decorative box instead of being wrapped. Dane's knee is bouncing. "I hope you like this."

I take the top off, and a large geode is packed firmly inside. It's purple with varying shades of gray twinkling at me. He holds the box while I pull it from its protective covering.

"Dane, this is gorgeous. Mesmerizing."

"It's in memory of our baby." He chokes up, then gives himself a moment. He pulls the paper out of the bottom of the box. "This geode represents a star we get to name. I want our baby to know we loved him or her. I want to name the star together."

At this point, his mom and my grandparents are tearing up while I'm blubbering at his thoughtfulness and how much he thinks about our baby that he didn't know existed until after I had miscarried.

"Lettie, what do you want to name our baby and star?" he asks as his voice cracks.

Resting my head in the crook of his neck, I say, "Do you like Alex? That could be a boy or a girl?"

"It's perfect." He presses his lips to my forehead. "We have to fill this out and send it in certified mail to the space agency."

"I love you." It comes out as more than best friends because we are more. And although I'm sad he didn't propose and that I must have misunderstood Granny, I know we have a deeper love than most married couples.

"I love you and Alex. You've always been the center of my universe, and you always say I'm your rock, so it's the perfect gift."

We stare at each other so long, Paps must get uncomfortable because he says,

"Okay, kiddos, go practice. I know you're dying to sing."

"Love you, Grans and Paps. As always, I'm stuffed." Dane hugs them goodbye. "Mom, you coming?"

"No, I'm going to your aunt's house for a while."

Dane and I rush out and enter his house through the basement door. There's a little stage that's never been there before. "Wow, this is nice."

"I though t we needed all the help we could get. I'm nervous. I can play basketball in front of fifty thousand people but singing in front of that size crowd is terrifying."

I'm so proud of him, admitting his fears. "We can do anything together."

"Let's hope I don't faint. The boys would never let me live that down. I can hear Reed now. ‘I get slammed into the boards, bruised ribs, and you're scared of singing.' And Logan, ‘I literally get trucked by lean, mean linebackers every game, basketballers are weak.'"

Surrounding his waist with my arms, I look up into his chocolate-brown eyes. "You're the strongest person I know, the most talented, and the most thoughtful. Thank you for loving me and Alex." For a moment, the air crackles, and my stomach flips and flops. He's looking at my lips, and I think he's going to kiss me, but he's not. If I don't share my feelings, I'm not following my own path of wanting to be completely honest, so I murmur, "Kiss me, please."

A shy smile slides slowly across his face like he's been waiting this whole time to hear those words. He floats his thumb over my lips, back and forth. His eyes flash to mine. "Are you ready? Once I kiss you—really kiss you—I can't go back."

"I'm ready. We're ready."

He bends down and presses his lips to mine. His lips are firm and soft with a hint of sugar from the apple pie. I feel his heartbeat pulsing as he takes his time tasting my lips. I've loved this man since I was six. It wasn't the couple's kind; it was the kind of love that made me feel safe and loved at a time when I didn't feel loved by my paren ts. It was as if he took it upon himself to fill me with more love than is humanly possible, and he did.

As the kiss intensifies, his hands remain on my face. Then he breaks the kiss and says, "That was our second first kiss."

Correcting him, I say, "Third first kiss. Timber Thrills, the fundraiser, and now."

Our first, first kiss was tender, and the second was filled with the unknown. We didn't know what we could survive. But this kiss, we know where we're going, and we'll take our time getting there.

We both deserve a chance to savor each step.

"This is the last time I want to start over," I say, breathless from the kiss. Butterfly wings flutter in my belly that no man but Dane has given me.

His long arms trap me in his embrace. "We should practice."

"Good idea." I jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, kissing him.

He laughs into my mouth. "I meant singing, but I am a man." I feel his erection press against my center.

"The perfect man."

"Only for you." He puckers his plump lips, kissing me and letting it pop.