Page 97 of See It Through

“I don’t know, baby.” Her voice was thick, filled with sorrow. For me, for Graham, for herself. “You were more than reason enough. He just couldn’t get himself there.”

“He should have tried harder to get in touch with me.”

Another nod. “You’re so very right.”

“I thought he stopped loving me. Thought maybe he never had.”

Her lips pressed together, and a sob racked her shoulders as she shook her head. “He loved you, Remington. He checked out on you. He screwed up in a way that can’t be made up for. But he always loved you.”

I took that in, felt the gears churning, clicking, moving. Tears I’d held inside for years rolled down my face in unending streams. Hannah would never lie to me, and she’d known my dad in a way I never had. If she said Graham had loved me, I’d take it as fact.

Knowing that didn’t heal me, though. His love for me had been drowned out by alcohol and neglect for too long for it to make a difference now.

“That’s not enough. Never was.”

“No,” she agreed. “But it’s still important you know it. You were loved, and if Graham was right and there is an afterlife, you’re still being loved by him. Even if he was wrong and this one life is all we get, things like love don’t die. It’s here in the grass, on the wind, in the bones of this house…”

“In you.”

“Yeah,” she croaked. “He thought we’d be friends.”

“He was right about that.” I blinked away the wetness coating my eyes, taking in the woman quietly crying in my arms. “I didn’t want to grieve for him. Thought I got that out of the way a long time ago.”

“You can’t make your feelings go away just because you don’t want them.”

“I’m learning that.” I touched my chest. Even though everything had changed, it felt the same somehow. “I should’ve been here. I’m so damn mad I got robbed of the chance to settle things with him. This letter…it’s not enough.”

“It’s not.” Her palms were warm on my cheeks, wiping my tears again and again as they flowed freely. “I’m so sorry, my love. I wish I had tried to find you earlier. I wish I could have given you that time. Oh, Remi, I’m sorry.”

“Christ, Hannah, baby.” I held her face in my hands the way she held mine, drawing my thumbs through her tears. “Don’t be sorry. I have you, don’t I? All the beauty and sweetness I never knew I needed in one wild, incredible person. I can’t regret what brought me to you. You’re the reason I read that letter, the reason I have a home, the reason I know I need to face what I feel so I can heal and be the man you deserve.”

“Okay,” she whispered, turning her head to kiss my palm. “I’m going to be here, seeing it through beside you. You hear me? We’re gonna see it through together.”

No way out but through.

In some strange, twisted way, walking downstairs to read this letter with my dad’s words in my head was like coming full circle. Returning to a place where I was firmly rooted, loved, at home. Times had changed, and everything looked different, but the roots were what mattered. Every tear we cried together seeped into them, strengthening my tether to this place and this woman.

“I love you, Hannah Kelly. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never,” she promised. “’Cause I love you too, Remington Town.”

Two days later, Hannah took me for a drive. She wouldn’t tell me where we were going, just that she had a surprise for me.

I’d be willing to walk to the end of the earth with her, so going on a drive was no skin off my back. Especially since I didn’t have to have a hand on the wheel so I could put them both on her.

I was still raw from the letter, but riding with my woman, holding on to her leg while we sang along to the radio, was healing for me. It’d take time for me to get fully right, but I’d been denying my feelings for so long I was giving myself the grace I needed to do that.

Before I knew it, Hannah was pulling through the gates of a ranch, a little smirk on her lips.

“What are you up to?” I asked.

“You’ll see.”

She parked, and when we got out, she took my hand in hers, pulling me toward the stable. A few horses were out grazing, a man in jeans, a cowboy hat and a plaid shirt watching over them.

“Hey, Allen,” Hannah called.

Turning, he tipped his hat to her. “Ms. Kelly. This your man?”