Page 159 of Torn

P.P.S. I’m sorry it took me so long to write, I hurt my hand at the shop.

The frayed parchment paper is soft in my fingers, perfectly worn and aged, and I’m very aware that he chose this texture of paper, this color of ink, with careful consideration. Because he knows how much it means to me. Because he knowsme. Like no one else ever has or ever could.

I read his words over and over again, long after I have them memorized and they’re burned into my heart and soul, yet I stillhold the handwritten note and stare at the words until they blur. I can hear his voice saying them, deep, yet soft and sensual.Raw.

I like touching the paper that I know he held in his hands. The hands that had once held me, caressed me, ignited passion and desire in me so deep that I still can’t forget. And I don’t ever want to.

The faint scent of his cologne drifts from the paper. Or maybe I’ve just wished for it so much that I’ve imagined it. Either way, it’s comforting and stirs memories.

So many memories…

As I read his words, all the feelings rush back like acid on a wound that won’t heal. He’s my other half—the one who makes my heart beat. The man who makes me feel every feeling that could possibly be felt—and then some. The man who held me and loved me through almost every moment of my life. I have no past without him and no future without him. Quite simply, he is my world. There is no way I will ever move on from a love like ours. We belong to each other. I’ve always known it, and I am utterly exhausted from fighting it, denying it, keeping myself from it, and hiding it—as I’m sure he must be, too.

I tried. I gave us space. But now it’s time for me to go back home to my love and to my heart. Time is precious, and I don’t want to give any more up.

I take the penny and walk down the beach to the edge of the water, and I toss it in.

I wished for Tor.

I wished for us.

I wished for my father to accept us.

I wished for everyone to accept us.

I wished for my mom.

I wished for happiness.

CHAPTER 37

We all let go.

We followed our hearts.

We loved unconditionally.

And we all ended up together again.

TOR

I’m sitting on a bench in my garage polishing some of the chrome on my bike when a motorcycle pulls down my street and into my driveway. I know the sound of that bike as well as I know my own, and I’m wondering what he’s doing here.

Two weeks after Kenzi moved to Maine, I got a simple text message:

Asher

Keep the house. It’s yours.

It was a small olive branch of sorts, but I took it. That was almost a year ago, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Until now.

“Am I due to get my ribs broken again?” I ask, not looking up at him.

“Very funny.” He tosses a book onto the floor next to me.Glancing at him first, I put down my polishing rag and pick the book up, realizing it’s a photo album. Actually, it’s Ember’s photo album. She’s one of the few people who took real photos and put them in an album.

Or, she used to.

“What’s this for?” I ask.