Page 67 of Into These Eyes

Gavin

A fter positioning the ladder, I climb up to the manhole and slide the cover aside.

Taking another few steps up the rungs, I spot the metal safe to my right.

Anika had revealed she’d come home early from school one day to find her father up this very ladder.

He’d been shocked to find her home, but had told her he’d finished his final cigarette and was locking the rest away as a symbol of his dedication to quitting.

Their father was one secretive, lying arsehole.

The ladder rattles beneath my feet. I glance down at two sets of expectant, impatient eyes.

“Come on, dickwad,” Anika demands, “get a fucking move-on.”

About the size of a small microwave, I grab the safe, surprised by its substantial weight. Must be one of those fireproof numbers. Straining a little, and trying not to show it, I descend the rungs without the use of my hands. The moment my foot hits the floor, Anika reaches for the safe.

“Forget it,” I tell her, pulling back. Damn thing will rip her arms off. “Where do you want it?”

“The breakfast bar,” Jamie says.

“Look at him,” Anika snickers, “peacocking the shit out of carrying that safe so he can show off his big-boy muscles for you.”

There might be a little truth to her observation, but it’s not like the damn thing doesn’t weigh a fucking tonne. When I set it down on the counter, I shoot her a shit-eating grin. “Seems like you’re the one who noticed.”

Jamie smirks, her eyes skipping between me and her sister, apparently pleased with this little ribbing thing we’ve got going on. I don’t know where it comes from, only that it feels … normal.

“He doesn’t need to peacock for me. I already know he’s hot,” Jamie says.

Anika scoffs. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t make him any less of a dick.”

With that, she tries to shove me out of the way so she can get to the safe’s keypad. Rooted to the spot like a statue, I quirk another self-satisfied grin at her. “So, you think I’m hot?”

“I never said that.”

“You just agreed with your sister,” I point out.

“Did you miss the part about being a dick? Now move before I get you in a cuff-hold.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Okay, okay,” Jamie mutters, inserting herself between us. “Let’s remember what we’re doing. Ank, you want to open it?”

Jamie presses her arse against my crotch, forcing me back a step. As Anika punches in the code, I place my hands on Jamie’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze when the door swings open.

Anika peers inside, then pulls out a pink envelope. An envelope that’s already been opened. When she flips it over, we all read the handwriting on the front.

For Jamie on her 18th birthday.

Jamie’s muscles bunch beneath my palms as she takes the letter from Anika.

“Oh my God,” Anika says, reaching back into the safe and pulling out a large stack of envelopes bundled together with a thick rubber band.

My heart thuds hard when I recognise my handwriting, and that every single envelope has been torn open.

Jamie’s shoulders rise beneath my hands as she sucks in a sharp breath.

Placing her mother’s letter on the counter, she takes the thick bundle from Anika.

After flicking the envelope’s edges beneath the pad of her thumb, she flips the bundle over, revealing the prison’s address.

Turning, she meets my eyes, her own shining with emotion.

“Your letters.”

“Yeah,” I barely manage to get out, grateful and furious at her father all at once.

She glances at the bundle in her hand, then back at me. “There must be …”

“Fifty-two,” I tell her. “One a week for the first year I was locked away.”

She bites her lip, the motion sending a single tear down her cheek. I reach out and brush it away, then take the bundle from her hand and turn her toward the pink envelope waiting for her on the counter. “Go read it.”

I shoot a glance at Anika, realising she hasn’t made a snarky comment since opening the safe.

She stares at the envelopes clutched in my hand, then raises her eyes to mine with genuine empathy.

In that moment I know all her teasing and snarks are her way of showing she accepts me. I guess that’s why I bite back.

Picking up her mother’s envelope, Jamie turns to her sister and grabs her hand. “Ready?”

“You sure? It’s addressed to you,” Anika points out.

Jamie pulls her into her side and puts an arm around her. “You’re her daughter, too. She wrote this when you were little. That’s the only reason your name isn’t on it. Now, let’s go lie on my bed.”

As they walk out of the kitchen, Jamie throws me a sad smile before they disappear into the hallway.

I stare at the fifty-two letters still clutched in my hand. With them all together like this, they seem excessive. Obsessive even. But it hadn’t felt that way when I’d been writing one a week.

A wave of memories hit me, taking me back to that hard, uncomfortable bed where I sat while I wrote to her.

The gut-wrenching heartache, the desperation to be heard and believed by the one and only person I felt mattered.

The only person who showed up to court every single day.

It didn’t matter that she hated me. What mattered was that she cared about her mother.

And in my mind, that meant she’d want the right person punished.

But the court got it wrong. That’s what I tried to convince her of in these letters. But she never responded.

And now I know why.

I set the bundle down on the counter and stare at all the torn tops.

That fucking prick read every letter, then kept them from her.

And in doing so, he’d kept Jamie in a perpetual state of hatred.

It’s not the fact that she hated me all those years that’s infuriating.

It’s the fact she spent half her life with such a negative, destructive emotion trapped in her soul.

Kept there by the arsehole who caused it all.

Of course, once he murdered his wife, all sense of integrity irrevocably changed for him.

It’s clear his mission after that fateful night was to keep what remained of his family intact by staying out of prison.

Exhaling, I turn to the fridge and busy myself by starting on lunch. As I butter bread, then slice tomatoes and cucumbers, I hear various sounds drifting from Jamie’s bedroom. A few gasps, murmured words between the sisters, maybe even some sniffling.

After cutting the sandwiches into quarters, I’m arranging them on a large plate when Anika’s voice rips through the house.

“No fucking way!” It’s not an angry exclamation, but one of anguish, surprise and shock.

And now I hear not only sniffling, but actual sobs.

Fuck.

I force myself to grab glasses out of the cupboard and prepare cool drinks. I need to do something to keep from rushing in there to find out what the hell’s in that letter to elicit such a response.

Devouring a triangle sandwich in two bites, I pick up another and eat that, my ears straining the entire time. There’s plenty of talking, but I can’t make out the words, so I lean against the counter, eat another sandwich, and wait.

Thankfully, it’s not long before two pairs of bare feet hurry down the hallway. Then they’re standing in the kitchen, looking at me, both of their faces wet with tears.

The crazy thing is, neither of them look miserable. They appear kind of happy in a way I can’t comprehend. Yet they’re both wiping at tears that keep coming, staring at me like I’m the answer to a puzzle I know nothing about.

“I’ve made lunch, if you—” I cut myself off the moment Jamie breaks away from her sister, walks toward me and takes my hand. Leading me around the breakfast bar, she sits me on a stool.

As she hurries back to the other side and pulls Anika in close, she removes the pink envelope from her pocket, places it on the counter and slides it across to me.

“You need to read it,” she says, her voice straining with emotion I can’t decipher.

Even though Anika has tears running down her cheeks, she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

I’m desperate to know why, but I hesitate. “It doesn’t feel right to read something so personal to you both.”

Jamie smiles through her tears. “Trust us, it’s personal to you, too.”

What the hell does that mean? “Just tell me,” I say, my heart thumping in my ears.

Jamie shakes her head. “No. We want you to find out the same way we did.”

I little reluctantly, I pick up the envelope, surprised to find my hand shaking. Slowly, I slide the folded letter free and pause, not sure if I’m ready for whatever it contains, for whatever has these two women in front of me so emotional.

“Fuck’s sake, dickwad. Just fucking read it,” Anika blurts.

Unfolding the pages, with the sisters watching, I read.

My dearest Jamie,

If you’re reading this letter, it’s because you hate me and have refused to talk to me for far too long. I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too. All I can hope is that what I’m about to tell you will open your heart enough to forgive me, even if it’s just a little.

I hope by now you’ve been lucky enough to experience the thrill and heartache of love, so you'll have an understanding of why I had to do what I did.

I fell madly in love with Lachlan Lake when I was 16.

My Lockie. He was new at school, finishing his final year.

We were instantly attracted to each other.

Neither of us had ever felt anything like it.

He was my first love in every way. But months later, the ex-girlfriend he left behind at his old school revealed she was pregnant.

We were devastated. They’d been childhood sweethearts who grew apart and broke up before his family moved.

Unfortunately, he left something behind.

And being the man he was, he knew he had to do the right thing by her and his child.

That’s the kind of person he is. And part of the reason I love him. So, he went back to her.