Page 47 of Nineteen Letters

I would give anything to be up there sleeping beside her and holding her in my arms.

Anything.

Chapter 18

Braxton

Ican’t contain my excitement as I jog up the steps to Christine’s front door. I’ve been awake since 5 am, wandering aimlessly around the house just waiting for it to be time to leave. I skipped my usual morning workout and coffee on the back deck because I couldn’t sit still long enough.

“Good morning, Christine,” I say, leaning forward to kiss her cheek when she answers the door.

“Good morning,” she replies beaming. “The happiness I see on my little girl’s face seems infectious.”

“I’m spending the day with her. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I think I do,” she replies, rubbing her hand affectionately down my arm. “I’m glad you two seem to be working things out.”

“We still have a way to go, but we’re getting there slowly.”

She smiles as she moves aside to let me enter.

“Jemma!” she calls out from the bottom of the stairs. “Braxton’s here.”

“Coming!” Jemma yells in reply.

I try to stand still as I eagerly wait to see her. A few seconds later I inhale a sharp breath when she appears at the top of the staircase. The first thing I notice is that she has changed her hair.Her dark brown locks are now shorter and sit just above her shoulders. It’s different from how it has always been, but I like it.

A beautiful yet unsure smile graces her face as she descends the stairs. She’s wearing a pretty white sundress, which accentuates her lean body and tanned skin. My fingers are itching to reach out and touch her. She’s always had a bronzed glow—especially in summer when we spend so much time at the beach—but months have passed since she’s been in the sun.

I extend my hand to her when she’s within reach. “You look beautiful,” I say. “And I love your hair.”

“You do?” she asks as a pink tinge fills her cheeks. I find her bashfulness—which is something new I have learned about her—endearing.

“I do.”

She tucks a strand behind her ear as the smile on her face grows.

My eyes land on the jagged red scars that are now visible along her hairline. It takes nothing away from her beauty, but I get a pang in my heart nevertheless. They will serve as a constant reminder of everything we’ve lost.

“I had it cut yesterday while I was out. I bought this as well,” she says, fanning out the skirt of her dress.

“It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

I didn’t know she went out yesterday, but I’m no longer privy to what she gets up to during the day, apart from our daily trips to rehab. Christine told me she spends most of her time in her room, which saddens me. She was always an outdoorsy person and hated being locked away.

“I caught the bus into town.”

She did? “Wow. That’s great.” As much as I wish it was me she was spending her time with, I’m glad she’s getting out of the house and living again. “I’m proud of you.”

“I wanted to go back to that beach you took me to.”

“Ah, that explains your tan.”

“I didn’t go in the water, just sat in the sun watching the waves. I love it there,” she says, in a breathy kind of sigh.

“It was always your favourite place to be.”