Page 48

O n Monday morning, Caleb, Briar, and I fly to New York.

The city feels louder than I remember. The noise from the streets grated on my nerves during our car ride to my apartment, and I found myself missing the quiet of Bluebell—the sound of Caleb’s giggles as Ziggy bleats, and the soothing rustle of wind through the trees as I work alongside the guys in the field.

I thought being back at my penthouse might settle the unease in my chest, but the moment I stepped inside, it felt foreign.

The space is more showroom than sanctuary—professionally decorated but cold.

This summer taught me that home isn’t measured by square footage or decor, but by the people you share it with.

The cottage is where Briar, Caleb, and I have made our most cherished memories, and being back in my apartment only reminds me of what’s waiting for us back in Bluebell.

After ordering takeout for dinner, Briar and I tucked Caleb in together.

He begged for extra stories tonight, and we read every one he requested.

Having him nestled between Briar and me, listening as we took turns reading to him, gave me a glimpse into a life I never imagined could be mine—one where he has siblings and Briar isn’t just the woman I love, but my wife.

I plan to soak in every moment as a family of three and figure out what life on the ranch will look like long-term. Still, it’s nice to know the road ahead is bright and full of promise.

I’m currently in my home office, sending off a round of emails to my team.

I’ve decided to officially step back from DataLock Systems and hand over the reins to Carlton, who will serve as interim CEO until I determine my future involvement with the company.

At present, I have a more pressing priority that will require my full attention in the months ahead.

I’m proud of the company I’ve built, but somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what truly matters.

It’s time I shift my energy toward helping one of the people I love most chase her dreams. Once I’ve ironed out the details, and we’re back in Bluebell, I’ll share with Briar what I’ve been working on.

For now, I’ve told her that I’m taking a much-needed break from corporate life, which is also true.

I hit send on the last email and close my laptop.

After Caleb went to bed, Briar went to take a shower and call her friends, but she should be done by now.

We haven’t had any alone time today, and I’m looking forward to cuddling on the couch while we take in the skyline—one of the few things I will miss about living in New York.

I’m halfway to the door when I pause, my gaze drifting to the banker box in the corner.

Tony, Amelia’s lawyer, had it delivered the morning after we left for Bluebell.

He didn’t say what was inside, only that it held personal items Amelia set aside for me.

I’d told my assistant, Beth, to put it in my office so I could go through it once I returned.

I guess now’s as good a time as any.

I carry the box over to the couch along the far wall, and slowly open the lid, bracing myself for whatever Amelia left behind .

The first thing I see is a photo album labeled Caleb’s First Year.

My hands shake as I take it out and lower myself onto the couch before opening to the first page.

There’s a photo of Amelia in a hospital bed, cradling a newborn swaddled in a white flannel blanket with pink and blue stripes.

She’s staring down at Caleb with tears shining in her eyes.

I flip to the next page and see a picture of her leaning over the kitchen sink, bathing him in a plastic tub with First bath scribbled underneath.

There are several other albums in the box, each filled with snapshots of my son and his mom—birthdays, trips to the dinosaur museum, and many moments captured at home.

Amelia meticulously documented every important milestone in Caleb’s life with handwritten notes below each photo.

It’s like she knew from the start that her time was limited and wanted to leave a piece of herself for him to hold on to when she was gone.

As I take out the last album, I spot a white envelope tucked at the bottom of the box.

My throat tightens as I pull it free, running my thumb over my name written on the front in looping cursive.

I’ve wanted closure since I found out about Caleb, but now that there’s a possibility it’s within reach, I hesitate, bracing myself for the endless possibilities of what could be inside.

I tug at my collar, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. After a deep breath, I unfold the letter and begin to read.

Jensen,

By now, you’ve learned about Caleb, and naturally, you may be upset or have questions. I’ll try my best to answer them.

As a teenager, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The road to remission was grueling but coming out the other side pushed me to chase every goal with relentless focus. I went to college, then law school, and spent years working long hours at my firm—all in pursuit of making partner .

I rarely took time for myself, and the night with you was a rare exception. You were charming, hot as hell, and had me laughing more than I had in a while.

A few months later, during a routine oncology appointment, I was shocked to discover I was pregnant.

I’d always wanted a family, but never thought it was possible given that I’d been warned my chances of having a baby were slim to none.

The excitement I felt was quickly overshadowed when my scans revealed the cancer had returned.

After Caleb was born, I went through multiple rounds of chemo and radiation, all in the hope of being around to see him take his first steps, say his first words, and start preschool. And by some miracle, I got to be there for all those things and more.

I was afraid that telling you about him would mean splitting his time between us. And that I’d miss out on important milestones, holidays, and daily routines. I couldn’t risk that, not when I already knew my time with him was limited.

By hiding the truth, I know that I’ve failed you both, and for that I’m deeply sorry.

I should have introduced you earlier, so it would make what comes next easier.

More than anything, I regret not giving you the chance to be his father sooner, and I can only hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.

We made the most beautiful boy. He’s brought me more joy over the past few years than I ever imagined possible. I named him Caleb because it means “faithful,” and when he was born, I needed faith more than ever.

Faith that I was strong enough to take care of him, even if our time was short .

Faith that he’d find the strength to keep going once I was gone.

And most importantly, faith that you would open up your heart and love him unconditionally.

He experiences emotions more intensely than most kids his age, and I worry how he’ll handle my passing, so please be patient with him and guard his heart.

We might have only shared one night together, but it was enough to show me that you’re kind, loyal, and hardworking—traits that will help to make you a great dad. I truly believe Caleb will be lucky to have you.

Though I’ll be gone when you read this, know that I’m with you and Caleb in spirit—cheering you on from afar.

Yours,

Amelia

I blink back the sting in my eyes, as I stare at the letter, still in disbelief that it’s real.

In the past, I’ve wrestled with so many emotions directed at Amelia—anger, confusion, frustration—but now, all I feel is clarity.

She asked for my forgiveness, and she’s had it for a while now.

With Briar’s help, I’ve been able to make peace with the past, and having the full story behind Amelia’s decision makes me realize I would have made the same choice she did—choosing to treasure every precious minute with my child before my time ran out.

The way Caleb came into my life might not have happened the way I initially had hoped, but if things had gone differently, I doubt we would have ended up in Bluebell, and I might have missed my chance to fall in love with Briar.

In a way, I owe Amelia everything.

It’s only when the couch shifts slightly that I notice Briar has come into my office, settling beside me. Her hair is damp, curling at the ends, and the scent of my body wash clings to her skin. She rests her hand on my thigh, her brows drawn together in worry.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

I hold out the letter. “I found this at the bottom of a box of Amelia’s things. She wrote it for me before she died. Would you like to read it?” I add when she doesn’t move.

Briar nods, taking it from me, and lowers her gaze to the page. Her expression shifts with every line, and by the time she reaches the end, tears shine in her eyes.

“That was beautiful, Jensen. Thank you for letting me read it.”

“I’m glad you’re here to share it with,” I say, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“For a while, I convinced myself that the only reason Amelia left Caleb with me was because she had no other options. It was the only explanation I could come up with for why she hadn’t left a note or reached out before she passed. ”

“Now you know the truth,” she whispers.

“I’m grateful I do. Ever since I found out about Caleb, I’ve questioned if I’m enough for him,” I admit softly. “So, having confirmation that his mom trusted me to do right by him and saw me as the best person to raise him is the reassurance I needed.”

Briar takes my hand in hers. “I’ve believed in you from the start. All of us did. We were just waiting for you to believe it, too.”

This is one of the many reasons I’ve fallen for her. She had faith in me as a dad before I had any of my own, and has been by my side through every uncertainty.

I lean in, kissing her on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmurs.

I’ll never get tired of hearing her say it, and I’m reminded how lucky I am that she’s mine.

She tilts her head, motioning to the albums on my other side. “What are those?”

“Amelia left me a box of photos of Caleb. Want to look through them together? ”

“I’d love to,” she replies, a smile lighting up her face. “How about we bring them into the living room? I found some organic milk and top-shelf whiskey. We can make a city-boy version of spiked hot chocolate while we look through them.”

I hold her gaze, returning her smile. “Perfect.”

“Come on, then,” she says, standing. When she turns toward the door, I give her ass a playful swat.

Briar glances over her shoulder, a smirk on her face. “You really do have an obsession, don’t you?”

“With you? Always.”