“There’s not a lot to process, Sav. You left. I missed you. I wrote you a few letters.” “There are more letters?” I cleared my throat, deciding how real I wanted to be. But we’d gone so long without seeing one another, so I decided to lay it on the line. “There are fifty-two letters.” “Hayes.” “Savannah,” I said, mimicking her serious tone. “Don’t mess with me.” “I’m not messing with you. I wrote you once a week for a year. I guess I kept hoping that at some point you wouldn’t return one, and you’d actually read it,” I admitted.
