The elevator ride up to Kai’s floor is normally short, but today each number the elevator bank illuminates feels like it’s taunting me, as if asking if I’m really sure about this.

Finally, I stop on his level and force my feet to move to his door where I slip the letter with Kylie’s name scribbled across the front underneath.

I’m halfway back to the elevators when I hear a door swing open.

“What’s this, some kind of Dear John letter?”

Fuck. So much for her probably being at work at this time.

I steel my nerves and then turn back to face the girl who is no longer a girl but a beautiful woman with so much disappointment in her eyes.

“Umm, not really. My, uh, my therapist told me if I didn’t feel like I could say the words out loud that I should write them down. Get them out that way.”

“Sooo, this is what? An apology tour? Is everyone getting a letter?” She flings the letter in the air.

“No. Just you.”

Her eyes soften for a moment but then as if she’s preparing for me to cut her down, she masks her face back into indifference. “And your plan was to just leave it here for me to find and then…nothing?”

“I was going to give you time to read it and digest it, then I was going to call you and hope like hell you were willing to talk to me.”

Her stance transitions from one of confident defiance to one of uncertainty. “Right. Well, just so you know I already know about your psycho dad. Mom told me.”

Figures. I expected that; it’s why my letter glosses over my dad’s actions instead of poring over every detail. That wasn’t the point of the letter anyway. I didn’t want to focus on his wrongdoings, I wanted to focus on mine. And more importantly on how I was going to do better going forward.

“That’s okay.”

She stares at the letter for a moment, like it’ll read itself out loud if she stares long enough. The silence permeates the air, stifling it. “Okay. Well…I guess I’ll read it then and maybe call you.”

“I’d like that. But if you don’t, I’ll call you.”

She laughs and then claps her hand over her mouth. “Sounds like you.” She hesitates. “Hey, Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t actually burn your bracelet.”

I smile and wait for her to get back inside the condo before I head back down to my car. My moment of peace only lasts for a moment because my phone chimes with a news alert, and the headline sends my mind into overdrive.

Kai Morris, Pro Athlete Physical Therapist, Accused of Swindling Clients Out of Money and Sexual Harassment