With my name on it.

My heart stills and my breathing slows.

Why is there a letter to me in here?

My fingers hesitate to open it but eventually I do.

My first tear drops after I read the first sentence and by the end, I’m a mess of fucking tears and heartache.

Dear Jett,

Don’t forget to dance in the rain…

If there’s one thing I wish for you, it’s a lifetime of happiness. I’m sorry I can’t be there to see that through with you but you need to promise me you’ll carry on now that I’m gone and fight for your happiness. I know you struggle to let people in and I know you’re so worried about losing the people you love, but you can’t live your life that way. Life is like a storm, big brother, one minute calm and the next it’s all chaos and mess. Promise me you won’t wait for the storm to pass. Promise me you’ll dance in the rain.

See you when you get to heaven.

Love, Princess

xx

My sister is looking out for me even from the grave.

32

Presley

I drag the casserole out of the oven, fighting with the oven door that wants to shut on me before I’m ready. It plays nice and I manage to get the dish out, but just as I’m about to place it on the kitchen counter, it slips out of my hold and hot casserole goes all over my kitchen floor and the dish shatters on the tiles.

Fuck.

I fling the tea towel onto the counter and storm out of the kitchen to the balcony. I need some fresh air and I need to escape the kitchen and the dining table. All I see when I look at that goddamn table is Jett, and after three weeks of nothing from him, I don’t want to think of his ass or his lips or his hands or anything of his.

The warm summer air greets me. It’s a little muggy but there’s a slight breeze tonight and I lean against the railing, close my eyes, and soak it in. The sounds of Florida Georgia Line drift across the night air and I smile as I listen to the lyrics. Someone close by has good taste.

The music pulls me in and it’s not until the song ends that I realise I got lost in it for a while there. The last three weeks have been hard and I’ve moped around for most of them, but today I made a decision and I’ve felt lighter since. I’ve avoided going to see Jett because of my fear of his rejection, but tomorrow I’m going to find him and make him talk to me. For one, I need to know he’s doing okay after Claudia’s death, and two, I need to know if it really is all over for us because if it is, I’ve decided to pack a suitcase and go travelling for a few months. It might kill me to think of him every time I look at the dining table, but I need to see him one last time and confirm he really isn’t mine anymore.

Pushing off the railing, I head back inside to clean up the mess I made in the kitchen. As I slide the balcony door closed, someone buzzes for me to let them up to the apartment. Erin has taken to dropping in unannounced lately, so she can check up on me, so I figure it’s her. I pick up the phone, laughing, and say, “You just couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”

I’m met with silence and I realise it’s not Erin. And then his voice sounds and my body reacts instantly. It’s like he has this power over me, causing my tummy to flutter, my core to scream out for him, and my heart to soar.

Oh God.

“Presley, can I come up?”

Is there any answer other than yes?

“Yes.” I press the button to let him in and then put the phone back in its holder.

And I wait.

And I pray that my heart isn’t about to be completely ripped to shreds.

I open the door to my apartment and when I catch my first glimpse of him in three weeks, my body begins to thrum with need. This man gets to me every time. He’s so damn sexy, from his smile, to his body, to the way he walks; he just has it, and I know I’ll never be able to say no to him. Ever. Because even though he can be an ass, he’s a good man. He’s just lost at the moment.

He approaches with the Jett confidence I know well. His eyes meet mine and then they travel appreciatively over my body. And when he gives his gaze back to me, I see the same need in his eyes that I have.

“Sweetheart,” he greets me in the gravelly voice he uses when he’s turned on, and it hits me in all the right places.

I reach out and steady myself against the doorframe. “Jett,” I greet him, trying like hell to keep myself under control but failing miserably. There’s no controlling yourself around him.

He chuckles and murmurs, “It’s good to know I still affect you as much as you affect me.”

I stare at him for a beat before ushering him in. Then I follow him and wonder where this is all going to end up because it’s sure as hell not feeling like we’re over. Not by a long shot.

He leads me to the living room and then turns to look at me. This time his eyes stay firmly glued to mine. “I fucked up,” he says.

Three simple words and yet there’s a whole lot of emotion behind them. His regret is written all over his face and laced through his words.

His beautiful blue eyes beg me to believe him, and I do. Nodding, I say, “Yeah, you did, but you had a reason.”

He shakes his head. “No,” he says forcefully, “There’s never an excuse for hurting someone the way I hurt you. I’m so sorry, baby.”

I love the way his lips wrap around the word ‘baby’; I always have. “I’ve been worried about you,” I say softly.

“I know, and I love you for it. I’m just an asshole who couldn’t appreciate what I had right in front of me, but I’ve come to my senses now and I hope to God you’ll give me another shot.” His eyes reach for mine again, pleading with me to give him what he’s asked for.