A Thousand Letters (The Austens #2)

by Staci Hart

The first time I saw him, I was fifteen and he was sixteen, the boy with the dark shock of hair and broad shoulders, with eyes gray and cool as December and a smile as bright and warm as June.

but I was never able to let him go. Didn't matter that I knew nothing. The boy who I walked away from lived on in the wreckage of my heart, and I never stopped wishing things had been different.

I feel you...

I'm telling you I want you, but you're telling me that it's now or never. It's not fair. None of this is fair,"

Agreed

And if you really loved me, you'd come with me."

NOT FAIR WADE

At the time, I felt like she'd abandoned me, that she'd broken the promise she'd made. That she'd left me the second she put that ring in my hand. I just didn't realize it was me who had forced her to take it off, not until much later. Not until it was too late.

THANK GOD YOU CAME TO YOUR SENSES

It would be a lie to deny that he had something to do with my loneliness. With me. With everything.

But secretly I compared everyone to him, and no one could measure up. The way they made me feel, the things they'd say, it was just never right, never even close to what I'd had. Every date I'd been on ended up being all wrong. Or maybe I was all wrong.

believed in the feeling of being so tied to another person that you didn't want to be without them. I believed in love that doesn't die,

Here (Not there, not far) Now (Not then, not ago) You will find a way To love. -M. White

Wade hadn't moved, but as I backed away, he reached for me blindly, grabbing my hand, pulling me back. And I sank to my knees next to him, our fingers twined together; we existed only in our grief.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I turned and found Wade before me, but something had changed, something in his eyes. It wasn't forgiveness I found there, but layers of a newfound emotion, indiscernible to me. His hand lifted just a degree, and I imagined him reaching for me before it dropped again. He searched my face, the words he wanted to say warring behind his eyes. "Thank you," he said after an agonizing moment. "Thank you for being here for Dad, for us. I know … I know it's not easy." "It's not easy for any of us. I'm not alone in that." "No," he said simply. "You're not." "Thank you, too. For letting me be here." His voice rumbled, velvety and solemn. "I wouldn't keep you from him, Elliot."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

But deep down, I reveled in the thought of being wanted, of being seen by someone who wanted to see me, who saw me without pain in his eyes. And in that, the moment was a rare gift.