She looked up, her expression so openly startled, I felt it to the bottoms of my feet. “I already know that.” Without another word, she moved past, her shoulder grazing my arm, and entered the cabin. The screen door swung shut behind her. I didn’t move at first, still too stunned and barely grasping the fact that Alex had really shown up at my door.

Finally lowering to the first step, I eyed the bundle of envelopes. The one at the top of the pile had a date on it—just a few months after I’d gone to prison. Removing the rubber band that held them together, I noted how they were all dated. I opened the first one and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Rafe,

It’s been three months, four days, thirteen hours, and some odd minutes since I felt your eyes on me in the courtroom. I’m a horrible person for so many reasons. I took your freedom, and I’m not dumb. I know I wrecked your career too.

But I can’t come forward about your innocence. I’ve tried. You don’t know how many times I’ve fingered my cell, even looked up the number for the detective who handled my case. I went to my father’s car once, keys in hand, and got behind the wheel. I’m not even old enough to drive by myself yet, but I wanted to go to the police and tell them…things.

You’re still in that place, so obviously, I didn’t. It’s taken me this long just to put pen to paper and write you a letter I have no intention of sending. If I’m smart, I’ll destroy this after I’m done.

But I won’t.

I need someone to talk to, and you’re the only person I want to talk to. Besides, the thought of ripping this up is too painful, as if these words were never real. As if my feelings for you don’t exist. I’m selfish like that. Keeping my mouth shut is something I have to do, for your sake, for mine. But I need to lean on you right now. I still remember the day of my mother’s funeral. It was the first and only time you put your arms around me. You’re the only person who’s ever told me the words I always needed to hear:

Everything will be okay.