“Bollocks!” Evelyn said as she grabbed Addison’s arm to get her attention. “Addison, let it all go. Let go of your past. Let go of your father’s words because they were the words of an idiot, and they sure as hell weren’t a prophecy. She’s alive, and she’s right out there. Fight like you’ve never fought before, Addison! Tear down the rest of the walls around your goddamned, bloody heart and tell her you love her.”

“I have!” Addison shouted, pulling out of Evelyn’s grasp.

“Then tell it to her again and mean it, but don’t just use the word. Breathe the word. Live the word. Show the word. Promise the word! Tell her what that word means to you, because that’s what she needs to hear. That’s what she needs to see.”

“I-I-I don’t know how—”

“Yes, you do,” Evelyn said as she poked her finger against Addison’s chest. “It’s right in there. You just need to let it speak for itself. Tell her the truth, Addison, or you’ll regret it until the day you die.”

Frozen in place, seconds ticked by as Addison stared at Evelyn. The last seven months had been filled with days that seemed to go on forever and drunken nights that blurred, but did not erase. Consumed by so much anguish and loneliness, even after returning to England she felt as if each breath was a struggle...and the cure was driving away.

Addison bolted for the door, her feet barely touching the patio and steps as she made her way to the drive, and seeing the sleek, black stretch limo meandering down the gravel fifty yards in the distance, she dashed across the lawns.

The June sun was shining brightly, the day warmer than any so far, and beads of sweat began to appear on Addison’s brow as she made her way across her property. Having not run on a treadmill for months, the muscles in her thighs and calves began to tighten, but instead of slowing to a jog to ease the ache forming in her legs, she lengthened her stride and pushed the pain aside.