Letting Go (Thatch 1)

“I’ve always loved how protective you are, and I’m not just saying that because of what you or I said earlier. I love it; it’s comforting. I know you’d do anything to keep me safe, and I’m so thankful for that. I’m sorry that I used that against you, and I’m so so sorry that you’ve thought for one minute that I was taking myself away from you.” I curled my hands against his chest, and tried to fight back the tears stinging my eyes. “Everything has been harder since I first got the messages from Ben’s account. So many things have gone through my mind, and it makes everything so confusing. But that doesn’t mean I’m confused about you, or us. I love you and I want to be with you, and I need you to know that and not have any doubts. Because when you look at me, I know exactly how much you love me, and—”

Jagger pressed his mouth firmly to mine, cutting off my emotional rant, and I threw everything I had into that kiss. I needed him to know how much he meant to me, to see it when he looked at me and feel it in every kiss and touch we shared. I had spent so long blinding myself to him and keeping myself from feeling anything for anyone. After having this—having Jagger—I couldn’t ever lose him or go back to who I had been.

When the kiss slowed, I pushed myself away from him to slide under the comforter. He watched every movement like he was afraid to miss any of it, and when I was settled into his bed, he got up and kissed my forehead before jogging down the stairs. The lights went off and seconds later he was back and flipping off the lights in the loft. Pulling off his shirt, he let it fall to the floor before crawling back into the bed with me. With a murmured good night, he wrapped his arm around me again and pulled me close as we slowly drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 11

Grey

August 13, 2014

I RAN INTO the safety of my parents’ house from the summer storm, and tripped over myself as I worked at kicking off my shoes while simultaneously heading toward the stairs. Before I’d even hit the fourth step, my mom’s voice stopped me.

“Honey! You got something in the mail today.”

I stopped and let my head hang back so I was staring at the ceiling. “If it’s a bill, I don’t want it,” I grumbled even as I turned around and headed into the kitchen, where my mom was sitting at the table sorting through the mail.

“Not a bill.” She smirked as she handed me the large manila envelope, and I blew her an obnoxious kiss as I turned around to head toward the stairs again.

“I’m getting ready and going for a run!”

“Okay. How was work?” she called out after me.

“Fine,” I mumbled as my steps slowed to a stop, my eyes stayed glued to the envelope in my hands.

My brow furrowed when I didn’t find a return address, and even though my name and parents’ address was completely filled out, there weren’t any stamps or postage markings. A sense of dread slowly unfurled in my stomach and spread throughout my body as I carefully pried up the metal holding the envelope flap down.

I pulled out a stack of papers and tucked the envelope under my arm before flipping the stack over, and the feeling of dread intensified as the open space of the entryway seemed to close in on me.

The top sheet of paper had the typed-out words: Don’t let him make you forget what we have. My head shook back and forth as I fanned through the remaining pages, each one a printed-out picture of Ben and me, with a blank page at the end. Like some fucked-up type of manuscript—complete with blank page at the end and a dedication at the beginning. All it was missing was the title page.

“What’d you get?”

My head snapped up at the sound of my mom’s voice, and I had to swallow past the tightness in my throat twice before I could ask, “This was in the mail?”

“Yeah, honey, why? Are you okay?”

I shook my head quickly as I handed over the stack to her. “It’s another . . . it’s another message.”

She didn’t even make it past the first two pages before gasping and dropping it all to the floor.

“I n-need to call Jagger. I need to tell him.”

Mom didn’t respond, she just stood there with her hands over her mouth, staring at the mess of papers on the floor, and I couldn’t make my arms move fast enough to call Jagger. What should’ve taken seconds felt like hours, and I didn’t even recognize my own voice as I explained the pictures to him, and when I looked down at the fanned-out papers, my sharp inhalation had Jagger’s voice rising in panic.

“It wasn’t blank. The last page—it wasn’t blank.” On shaking knees, I bent down to the floor and moved aside a picture to reveal the rest of the small picture on what had been the last page. “Oh God,” I mumbled.

“What, Grey, what does it say?” Jagger asked over the roar of his car.

“It says: ‘Three more days, and Grey LaRue will finally be mine.’ It was his last status on Facebook, Jag, they printed it out.”

“Son of a bitch,” he growled. “Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon, and we’re calling the cops immediately this time, Grey. This bullshit has gone on too long.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said shakily.

“Breathe, baby. I’m coming for you.”

AFTER THE POLICE had come and talked to us for who knew how long, had taken fingerprints off the mailbox and the envelope and printed off pictures with them, I was exhausted. Emotionally and mentally drained. It took everything in me just to lie down on the couch and close my eyes as my parents and Jagger talked quietly around me. At some point I remember briefly waking up when Graham came over, but when I woke again, it was completely dark outside, and