Page 103 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
“When you’re ready, if you’re ready, I want you to light the letter on fire.”
Holding Ana’s letter in one hand and my dad’s lighter in the other, my breath shakes out of my lungs. I flick the lighter, the flame quivers beneath the letter as my hand trembles.
I touch the flame to the corner, watching the letter ignite.
“With these flames, I release these untruths from my soul and set myself free.”
“With these flames, I release these untruths from my soul and set myself free.” I inhale then exhale through my nose.
As the paper turns to ashes before my eyes, my flesh shivers.
It burns. I breathe.
Just like the gray death, smoke floats into the air. I twist the paper and turn it, catching each section aflame. With the last corner lit and dying, I release it, watching it blow away in the gentle breeze.
It’s gone. The words that gave me so much pain are gone. Destiny did this for me.
She has my heart.
Standing behind her, her back against my chest, I wrap my arms around her and she holds onto my arms, resting her head back.
I close my eyes and breathe.
Time passes, yet it stands still as we gaze at the ocean in silence, the sun warming our skin, the grainy sand seeping between our toes. I was dead inside for so long. She unraveled the barbed wire caging my heart, exposing my scars. Pain I hid from the world.
She wrapped my wounds with her healing love.
I’m free.
Destiny
Before we leave, I turn to face him.
“Back in L.A., you asked what my parents do for a living.”
“Yes.”
“My dad is retired from the CIA, and he has connections. I didn’t give him any details, but I emailed him last night to see if he might be able to find Ana and your child.”
He steps back from me, covering both sides of his nose with his hands. “Can he do that?”
“He can try. I didn’t want to go any farther without your permission.” I pause. “There’s no promise that he can find her. Is this something you want me to ask him to do?”
Clasping his hands around the back of his neck, he paces left then right. He stops in front of me, holding my shoulders in his large hands. I can’t decipher if his expression is that of hope or fear.
“Yes, please.” He shakes his head. “I understand if he can’t find her. But I would be so grateful for him trying.”
I smile and nod. “I’ll email him when we get back to your house.”
He takes my hand in his and we go back to his motorcycle. The drive back home is just as stunning. Ocean for miles, the fiery sun blazing in the sky above us, my body wrapped snugly around him.
Together, we agree to eat in again and, since it’s an early night, we decide to make lasagna and garlic bread. We stop by the store on the way home and get only the essentials since the bag needs to fit between our bodies on the motorcycle.
When we arrive back at his house, he turns on some music and starts immediately on the preparations. I go to my room and email my dad. When I go back out to the kitchen, he’s started the water heating for the noodles and is working on the sauce. I grab the cheeses and start on the cheese mixture then the garlic bread. I’ve never cooked dinner with a man before. It’s kind of fun. He’s quite entertaining to watch, the way he dances to the music as he stirs the sauce, stopping every now and then to sing into the spoon like a microphone. I can’t help but smile at him.
My cheese mixture is done and the garlic bread is ready for the oven when the timer dings, telling us it’s time to strain the noodles.
“The strainer is in the cabinet above your head,” he says as he shakes his hips to the beat, stirring the sauce.
