“Thanks for coming with me guys,” I said to Colin and Blake as we got off the elevator.

I had been searching for years for just the right place for me to buy. Up until this point, I had been renting the house I lived in. It had been a great house, but I was thirty-five now and need to find a place to call home. Blake, Colin, and Matt have been encouraging me and helping me look for a place for years. And I finally found it.

I’ve always loved the lights of Las Vegas and the electricity the city breathes at all hours and every day. The Strip held comfort for me because no matter the time of night, I could wander through a lively casino and forget the troubles that woke me up in the night. It was always there to quietly be my friend in the dead of night. Even though I had Colin, Matt, and Blake for good friends, sometimes I needed to be alone, but not really alone. I was better off quietly walking in a casino after waking up from the dead of night nightmares. I found solace in it. It was a strange kind of calm, but to me, it was very soothing.

Last year one of the largest projects opened on the Strip that not only had hotels, but a few high-rises within the project were solely residences with casinos and restaurants. Urban Towers was one of the high-rises, and this was where I was going to live. That way, I won’t have to drive to a casino in the night to escape my dreams. I can just take the elevator downstairs. The top floor consisted of custom penthouses, and I grabbed the architect firm that did my cabin to help with the design and placement of interior walls. All was done over the last year, and today I got my keys.

I brought the guys to see it before the furniture arrived. The three of us stood by my door, and I waved the key card over the card reader and the entrance to my new home popped open.

“I told Matt I’d take pictures for him,” Colin announced with his cell phone in hand.

Matt was going to come too, but he was called to the hospital for a shift.

“Well, here it is.”

My foyer opened up to the huge great room and then off to the side was the kitchen and nook. I had a stone wall that had the fireplace, and flat screen TV mounted on it. It was similar to my fireplace wall in my cabin, except the stone was a lighter shade. The hardwood floors were a gray and white reclaimed beach wood, walls were a light gray, and all of my doors were white. Everything was gray and white except for my cabinets in my kitchen. Those were all lacquered blue. The countertops were light gray quartz. I had a huge patio balcony and floor to ceiling windows throughout.

Everything was just as I wanted it.

“Anth, this place is amazing,” Colin said as he continued taking pictures.

I was proud of it. I constantly was on the architect about making sure no cost was spared, or a corner was cut. This was going to be home.

“My wife would kill for a stove like that Anthony,” Blake said as he wandered over to it.

Blake’s wife loved to cook, so I told him that he better not tell her about it, or he better buy her one.

“When do you get furniture?” Colin asked.

“Tomorrow. Thank you for helping me move,” I said.

Blake and Colin both looked at each other. I hadn’t asked them to but was teasing them.

“What time do you need me?” Colin asked with a smile.

“I’m just kidding, Col. Fuck manual labor. I have the number for some movers to help with the boxes. There really isn’t much.”

“Anthony, we will help you get your stuff at home in boxes. I’ll bring Noah, too. The guy loves manual labor,” Blake said.

I tried protesting because honestly, I didn’t have much stuff. I wasn’t a collector of things or a pack rat.

* * *

Matt and Colin boxed up my kitchen stuff while Blake and Noah worked on the living room and I worked on stuff in my bedroom. I pulled down a small box that held various random things. It was my junk box and stuff I held onto for one reason or another.

I sat down on the floor with the box and looked through it to see what I had in here. I had the birthday cards from my dad, and I still wanted to keep those. One of the items in the box was the letter that I wrote to my dad the Christmas that I moved in with him. I had wanted to give him something because he had been so good to me. I was basically a stranger to him, but he rescued me and took me away from my mom, Bruce, and Connor. I just didn’t have any money to buy him something, so I wrote him a thank you letter.

And never had the balls to give it to him.

I sighed and opened it. I pulled out the letter and read it over and over.

Dad,

Thank you for everything. I’m sorry if I am frustrating and seem to give you trouble. I don’t mean to. There are things I don’t like talking about, and then there are things I don’t know how to talk about. I may not say it, but I’m grateful that you came for me and all that you’ve given me: the warm house and bed, my new clothes and the food, the band-aids and medicine. I really like the plush football. It helps settle my stomach aches at night. I wish I had something to give you for Christmas.

Anthony

I looked up at the sound of Blake’s voice.

“Is that the same letter that you had sitting out by your Christmas tree all those years ago?” he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

I laughed.

“You remember that?”

“I do. It was the first Christmas after your dad passed away.”

I nodded and noticed that deep ache that I had so many years ago, was starting to make a presence again.

“Would this letter, by chance, have anything to do with the guilt you’ve held onto?”

I nodded but kept my mouth tightly closed. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and looked at me.

“Anthony, you’ve got to let go of that guilt.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let whatever you have written there, control your waking breaths. Let it go, Anthony.”

“My dad…he was so good to me. I moved in with him before Christmas and he welcomed me. I had nothing but the clothes on my back when I moved in with him, but he provided everything for me. I wrote this before that first Christmas to thank him. It was all I could give him for Christmas. But I never had the courage to give it to him.”

I don’t know why the fuck I told Blake that. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Whatever it is you feel guilty about...holding onto it will only hurt you. Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to live like that.”

I took a deep breath and felt the ache in my chest as I reached for it. I let my head rest against the wall and stared at Blake. I considered letting him read the letter. Blake reminded me a lot of my dad, and maybe if he read it, it would kind of be like my dad reading it. And before I could think that through, I blurted it out.

“Blake, will you read it?” I cautiously asked him.

He stared at me and looked in my eyes for a long moment. I didn’t flinch or look away as I held the old letter.

“Of course,” Blake said gently.

I wonder if Blake knew how much he reminded me of my dad. I picked the letter up from my lap and before handing it over, I thought one last time if I was sure that I wanted him to read this. I knew it could spark questions and I didn’t want those coming at me.

“Blake, I have a condition with it, though.”

He nodded and let out a soft laugh.

“Are we scene negotiating?” he lightly joked.

I laughed and shook my head. I worried about what he would think after reading this.

“I don’t want the contents of this letter, or the fact that I never gave it to him, to change your opinion of me. But my condition is that you won’t ask me anything about what I have written or why. Deal?”

“Deal.”

I slowly handed it over to him.

“I was seventeen when I wrote it. And I meant every word of it.”

Blake focused on the letter, and I sat quietly. I studied his face while he read it. I saw his eyes narrow once, and then it appeared he was re-reading it. When he finished, he folded up the letter, placed it in the envelope and handed it back to me. My heart began to pound as I wondered what he might be thinking. It was another long moment before he spoke again.

“You feel guilty over never thanking your dad for what he did for you.” Blake paused and looked at the ground. “Anthony, what your father did for you, is what fathers do. He loved you very much...and I’m sure he knew you were grateful.”

I exhaled the breath I had been holding in and stared at Blake.

“Do what you feel you need to do with the letter, Anthony. Destroy it, hold onto it, whatever feels right, but let go of the guilt. Ok?”

I nodded, suddenly I couldn’t find my voice and kept trying to fill my lungs with air by taking deep breaths…despite the pain in my chest. I stood up and put the box on the dresser and set the letter inside of it. I just stared at the inside for a moment but looked up when I felt Blake’s hand on my shoulder; just like my dad’s.

“I’m going to go help Noah carry some boxes out to your truck. Take your time, Anthony.”

When he left the room, I closed my eyes and took a few deeper breaths. I did feel a little better since Blake said my dad knew. He didn’t see my handwritten note all those years ago, but as long as he knew.