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My hand reaches for the carved piece of wood first. Did he make this himself?

“What is it, hun?” Jesse asks.

“It’s Toto.” I mindlessly hand it to her, picking up the book next.

The light from the fireplace ripples over the shiny gloss of the cover. My fingers trace the title.The Wizard of Oz.

For a brief moment, I get a rush of happiness, but it’s quickly followed by confusion. How did he know? A piece of paper falls onto my lap when I flip through the pages.

It’s a letter.

“Read it,” Dirk orders gruffly.

I set the book down with one hand and pick up the letter with the other. It shakes between my fingers. “I can’t,” I tell Dirk, looking at him directly so he can see I’m being truthful with him.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

That would probably be best. If I read it to myself, it will echo off the walls of my skull, haunting me throughout all the days I have left to walk this earth. If he reads it, there’s a better chance Ican keep it out there, in the ether. Separate from myself. It won’t make his words part of me.

He stands and gently plucks the letter from my hands, then lowers himself onto the coffee table in front of me. There is no warning, he just begins to read.

“Lexie,

I want to start off by apologizing for not saying goodbye. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you deserve better. I meant no disrespect. Goodbyes are just one of those things I need to work on.

I’m also not very good at letters, so I thought I’d send you a few items to show you how serious I am about my feelings toward you. I saw the disbelief in your eyes the last time we spoke. You told me I was blind, and that I wasn’t seeing who you are.

I’m going to show you that my eyes have been wide open, and maybe it’s you who doesn’t see who you really are.

I miss you. Please take care of yourself, and ask the club for help if you need it.

Ash.”

Jesse hands Dirk the wood carving. He tosses it gently in his palm and then levels his gaze on me. “What is your honest opinion of Ash? On a scale of one to ten, with ten being your definition of a goddamn saint. Where would you place him?”

My eyes roam over the fire as I think about Dirk’s question. I don’t know if I believe in saints, but if there was one, it would be Ash Taylor.

“I would place him at infinity.”

“Even though he’s hurt and possibly killed people in the line of duty?”

I nod, still facing the fire.

“Even though he’s an alcoholic?”

“Yes,” I say quietly.

“Then why can’t it be the same for him? Maybe he loves you despite the things you’ve done.”

“I …”

“I don’t want to hear it. I want you to go upstairs and really think about this, Lexie. Men like Ash don’t come around every day, and goddammit that kid wants you. You, Lexie. You.”

“But you don’t think I’m deserving, do you?” I ask, a lump forming in my throat.

“Look at me,” he orders.

Slowly, I turn to face him, tears streaming down my face. His scary features soften to a not-so-scary status. “Don’t put words in my mouth, hun. The only person who really needs to answer that question is you. Do you think you’re deserving?”