36. Austin

CHAPTER 36

AUSTIN

When Greer entered the room, I'd been sitting on the edge of the bed, my elbows on my knees, trying to figure out why Carter had been such a dick about everything. Never had I expected him to lose his shit like that. And it hurt me more than I thought possible that he'd be more concerned over his hockey venture than with my happiness.

But when I looked up and saw the red spot on his face, fear followed by rage like I'd never known consumed me.

"What happened?" I jumped to my feet as more adrenaline filled my veins. But I knew the answer. "Wait. Never mind."

I headed for the door, but Greer caught my arm. "Austin. Don't."

Whipping around, I looked at my husband, who had obviously been assaulted by my brother. His eyes pleaded with me to let it go, but I wasn't sure I could.

"He hit you, Greer. And I won't stand for it, not even from him. If he wants to hit someone, it better goddamn be me."

I pulled out of his hold and stormed toward the family room, looking for my brother. "Carter! Where the fuck are you?"

Silence filled the room. "He's gone. I told him to leave."

I turned to find Greer standing in the doorway across the room, putting more distance between us than I liked. My ire eased off as I stared at him.

"You're not pissed off at him?"

He took a couple of steps closer, shaking his head. "I don't blame him for how he reacted. Surprised? Yes. But mad? No. We both love the same thing. I would probably hit him too if he were trying to take you away from me."

I stared at him, amazed at how differently we perceived things. I was ready to pummel my brother, and he'd already forgiven him.

Running my hands through my hair, I headed for the sofa and my warm beer. Picking it up, I took a long pull, then held the bottle between my fingers.

"I love my brother," I said quietly, "but I'm not sure I can forgive him for this."

Greer walked over and sat down beside me, again leaving more space than I liked. He picked up his beer, but held it between his fingers. He rolled the neck of the bottle mindlessly as he stared, unseeing, at the table.

"You have to, sweetheart. I'm sure he feels betrayed. I kept some pretty damning secrets from him."

I took another sip. "We both did. That's not yours alone."

A half smile pulled up the side of his handsome face. "He's always wanted you back in his life. When you left for the service, he was a mess for a while. Just like me. Except he got to talk to you and see you, while I waited for little bits of information. That's why I understand how he feels."

I shifted to look at him. "What do you mean? He told me he was proud of me."

Greer nodded. "He was. We both were. But that doesn't mean we weren't terrified all those years. Watching the news and trying to keep up with where you were while praying you weren't in harm's way."

He paused to take a swallow of his beer, and I waited. I couldn't stand not touching him, so I reached over and took his hand.

"It was agony, but I found a couple ways to cope. Throwing myself into this new venture here in Portland and exhausting my body until I could sleep. And when I felt unsettled, and the longing got the best of me, I wrote to you."

I swallowed thickly, trying to remember if I'd received any letters from him. "I didn't get any mail from you. I would remember."

Greer smiled weakly, then nodded. "I know, sweetheart. I never sent them."

I stared at him as more understanding set in. "You didn't think I'd open them."

He shrugged one shoulder. "The thought did cross my mind. So I tucked them away, hoping one day I could share them with you. I actually had my lawyer put them in my will in case I never got to explain."

"Where are they now?"

My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for his response. "In a drawer in our bedroom."

We both became quiet as I weighed the gravity of what he'd just said. But before I asked to see them, it occurred to me I needed to explain what I'd said earlier, too. "I'm sorry if I hurt you when Carter brought up moving. I just didn't know what else to do with myself."

"I know, sweetheart. I could see it all in your eyes and written all over your face. But you have to know there are options if you still want to do that with him."

Panic began setting in, because it would be just like him to say he'd let me go. But that wasn't happening. "What do you mean, options? If you think I'd leave you for some fucking hockey venture, you're wrong. I don't need fucking hockey or any more fucking money. I just need you. So don't you even suggest it."

Greer's eyes reddened as he smiled at me. "Glad to know you feel that way, sweetheart, but that wasn't what I was going to say."

All the tension in my body melted away, and the headache that had tried to form at the base of my skull eased off. Leaning over, I kissed him sweetly.

"Can I see the letters? They were written to me."

He got up from the sofa and walked toward our bedroom as my mind raced with all the questions filling my head—so many what-ifs that could have derailed us.

I was back to staring into space when Greer returned carrying a large shoebox. He stopped in front of me and handed me the box.

"I'm going to give you some privacy while you read them. Just keep in mind I was a mess, and it may get a little..." he waved his hand in the air as he tried to find the words.

"Mushy?" I asked, trying to interject some lightness.

He smirked. "That word works. But I guess maybe honest works, too."

"I can work with honesty, any day of the week."

Greer smiled and nodded. "I'll be in the bedroom unpacking those boxes, if you're okay with that."

"I'd love that."

I watched him walk down the hallway to our bedroom, his fingers testing the tenderness of the bruise on his face. When he disappeared from sight, I looked down and lifted the lid from the box.

I pulled out a stack, determining that they were actually postcards, not letters. But there were hundreds of them, making my eyes fill with tears. I pulled out three, choosing the first one, another one from the middle, and the last one. Sitting them face down on the sofa, I returned the others to the front of the box where I'd taken them. If they were in order, like I knew they probably were, it was a place to start.

Picking the three up, I read his words, and broke my heart all over again.

May 19, 2010

Dear Austin,

I don't know why I'm doing this, but I just need to explain in case you never give me the chance. I'm so sorry for not showing up. I got in the taxi and made it to the front door before turning around. There's no other way to say it than I was a coward. I knew if I had one night to indulge in this endless attraction, one night would never be enough. I've committed myself to a friend, and if I had you, I never could have done it. And if, god forbid, something were to happen to you while you served, I'd never recover. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you, so I was selfish and thought of myself. But one thing is true. I regret what I did and want you with every fiber of my being. I'll wait and pray you'll give me a chance to explain one day. I think I'm going to do this, write you cards, until you come home.

Yours,

Greer

I wiped away a stray tear that fell down my cheek, carefully placing the card back in the box. I knew most of what I'd read, because he'd told me in Costa Rica. Picking up the next one, I turned it over, smiling at the familiar handwriting.

November 29, 2017

Dear Austin,

You're home on leave, and it kills me not to be at Carter's for Thanksgiving with you. I'm so damn happy to know that you're at least stateside with your family. Carter told me about how your teammate died during a mission. It was the most difficult conversation to have, trying to be supportive of your best friend, while trying not to fall apart yourself. My greatest fear played out in that conversation, and I'm so goddamn thankful it wasn't you. Let's just say I didn't last long on that call.

But there's something you need to know. I love you, Austin. Not platonically, and not as my best friend's younger brother. You consume my thoughts, and if you ever give me a chance to make this up to you, I will. One day I hope I can tell you that. Be safe, love, and come home to me.

Yours always,

Greer

I sat back, more fucking tears slipping down my face. I remember the day Nate died, like it was yesterday. GQ was inconsolable, because they were together. The world looked different after that day. We couldn't get past it and were a danger to ourselves in the field.

Nate's death changed everything. We all had a new perspective on life. I allowed myself to think about Greer a little more, and how much I missed him. And when GQ wanted to move to Portland to be closer to his family, I couldn't say no. Wouldn't say no. Even though Greer lived there too, and I knew I'd see him at some point. Maybe that's what I'd wanted all along.

I tucked the card into the side of the box. Putting it back in order right now didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

When I picked up the third card, I could hear Greer moving around in the bedroom, and that's where I wanted to be. Close to him. But I needed to read the last card. And I was so glad I did.

It was written a week ago.

Dear Austin,

This is probably going to be the last card I write to you, because when you find out what I've done, with Jesse's assistance, one of two things is going to happen. You're either going to give me a chance to explain and make things right between us or destroy me. Metaphorically, of course.

I'm going to come clean and say I don't need your professional services. I need your personal ones. I need a chance to hold your undivided attention away from distractions and interruptions. What better way than on an eight-hour flight to Costa Rica?

I've been a patient man, and I've had years to think about all the ways I could have handled things differently the last fourteen years. I want you to know, my biggest regret has been missing out on the life we could have had together.

But at the same time, I don't think either of us was ready for it. You needed to explore the world, and I needed to find out who I was. And what I've figured out is I'm nothing without you. A hollow shell of a man without real love or purpose.

There is a thin line between love and hate, and I hope you'll allow me to erase it between us. Because hating you is the last thing I'll ever do.

I love you,

Greer

I pressed the card to my heart and looked up. My life had taken on a new direction in seven days. It might have taken us fourteen years to get here, but we were here now, and that's all that mattered.

I tucked that card into the box and closed the lid. Standing, I picked it up and headed off to find my husband, the man of my dreams, and the love of my life. Nothing was going to get in our way, and I would love him until the day I died.