The next morning, I’m at my desk, signing off on the overtime report for the Charlotte Collins rescue, when there’s a light tap at my door. Without looking up, I yell, “Come in,” as I continue to mutter at the time sheet on my screen.

Seriously, I need to ask Caleb and Keene if they pay the guys to go out drinking to celebrate. Otherwise, I’m going to have a fuck load of timesheets to reject this week. Cursing rabidly, I don’t even notice the door silently open or the footfalls approaching my desk.

I do notice the smell. Chocolate caramel brownies. My head snaps up, and standing before me is obviously a hallucinatory reward from staring at spreadsheets for way too long.

“Corinna,” I breathe, not wanting to disrupt the fantasy in front of me. Her long hair is down around her face. She pushes it out of her face with one hand, while the other holds something containing the scent that is wafting through my office.

Since I figure I’m dreaming, it’s awfully nice of me to put her in a low-cut, loose, brown knit shirt with a wide collar falling off her shoulder. One that’s not covered in flour or icing. Pushing back in my chair, I notice she has on a pair of ankle boots with well-fitted jeans instead of her trademark Chucks.

Mentally patting myself on the back, I’m impressed with how good she looks in this particular fantasy of mine. I wonder how long I can keep the illusion of smell going.

It must be because I was in both of her kitchens so recently.

“Is everything okay?” the mirage in front of me asks curiously. The package in her hand shifts from one hand to another. I imagine the smell becomes stronger as it shifts closer to me, as if the real Corinna was standing right in front of me.

“Hmm?” I respond.

Suddenly, the mirage gets impatient. “Wake up, Colby! Are you watching porn on that machine or something? Do I need to get Keene in here to check? He’s already pissy since I asked him to drive me here because I didn’t sleep all damn night,” Corinna snaps.

Holy shit. She’s not a mirage. She’s real.

“C-Corinna,” I stammer. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I power off the computer screen, likely adding more credence to her theory. Quickly standing, I smooth down my dress shirt. “This is a surprise. Please, have a seat.” As she gracefully sits and crosses her legs, still holding on to the package, astonishment might be the best way to describe how I’m feeling. “What can I do for you?”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and focuses anywhere but on me. Afforded a few moments, I peruse her to my heart’s content. With the angle of her shirt cascading from so high against her neck, and so low against her arm, I catch a glimpse of the side of her amaryllis tattoo where it rests near her heart. When she told me years ago where she had placed her symbol of the Freeman family, I’d hoped one day to see it.

Hell, who am I kidding? I still hold that hope.

Her head is still facing away from me when she starts talking. “I had a visitor before the family dinner yesterday. You know Jack O’Brien, I believe.”

Any semblance of ease I had been experiencing because of our calm conversation evaporates. “Only too well.” I can’t control the rage seeping from my voice.

The poster she’s been reading about Operations Security must be fascinating. She hasn’t looked away from it once since she started talking. I forget about that when her next words penetrate. “Then you might be interested to know when Phil heard Jack call me a low-bred ingrate with a fat ass last night, he knocked him out in front of the family. It was too bad it happened so fast. Holly didn’t get photos. I was going to get us all something printed up with Phil’s fierce expression on it for dinner next week.” Her head turns, and I’m suddenly blinded by something I thought I’d never see again.

Pure discs of gold in Corinna Freeman’s eyes.

“Hand to God, it was a perfect right hook, and had he landed on Phil’s Guccis, I think Phil might have kicked him.” Her voice is pure honey smoothing out all of the rough edges. And although the color doesn’t change, the humor disappears. “Right before that, Jack admitted he stole something from me. Something from you.” Her chest heaves as she tries to control the waver in her voice. “Things that should have been delivered to me long ago.”

Is she talking about the letters? I stare at her, unable to say a word. I nod instead.

Corinna stands. I rise as well. “Keene’s waiting to drive me back home, but…you’ll see after you open the package.” She pushes the box into my hands, and the smell I thought was a hallucination overwhelms my nose.

Caramel chocolate brownies. I’d recognize it anywhere. I gape at the package, then at her as she moves toward the door. “Don’t wait too long to open it. It almost didn’t make it here in one piece.” She gives me a hesitant smile before she opens my office door and slips out.

Falling back into my chair, I would have sworn I’d just experienced the best dream of my life if I wasn’t holding the living proof in my hands. Knowing Corinna’s correct about the food savages I work with, I quickly open the white box.

And find a letter addressed to me on top in her beautiful handwriting. Only, it’s not addressed to “Colby” or even “Colby Hunt.” It’s addressed to my full military address from ten years ago.

God, she got the letters.

Using the iPad Caleb and Keene showed me how to work for security matters, I engage the locks on my office door. Forgetting about the brownies, I slide the box to the side before sitting back in my chair.

What did I even say in that first letter? What did I ask her? I know I told her over and over in every single one how much I missed her in my life. I’m in shock to find my hands shaking as I hold her letter. Even though I’m scared—no, terrified—to see what she wrote, I need to read her words on the page.

The way I should have seen them so long ago.

I tear into the letter.

Dear Colby,

As you might know, your letters were a bit delayed. Next time, you might want to try a better mail carrier if you expect them to reach me anywhere close to when you send them.

I can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes me. With my lips twitching, I keep reading.

Please accept the welcome home gift I should have baked for you a long time ago. We are all glad to have you home safe from your last mission. And it’s to my shame I never properly let you know that.

It’s early morning now. After reading your first letter from so many years ago, I have to admit, I’m baffled.

What did you want from me then?

What do you want from me now?

I think back to the night where we fell apart, and I find myself questioning everything I believed in for so many years. You broke me that night, Colby. Yes, I admit it. You did.

My heart clenches. Hard.

I haven’t forgotten what happened, but when I was standing in my home last night, and understood someone else might have broken you, I realized not all of the links between us are gone.

And that is somehow both terrifying and comforting right now. Especially knowing as I write this, you could crush me again with a few ill-placed words. I beg you, if that’s where your mind leads you, don’t. Please don’t. Right now, what’s left of me needs to be focused on the battle I’m about to endure.

I close my eyes in pain. Partially because she feels she has to ask me to be gentle with her, and also knowing whatever her news was from her test, it wasn’t good.

Em told me I might find questions to ask you in the letters, but there’s really only one I thing I can think of for now. Would you like to be friends again?

I know I’m a risk. I’ve been a snot, a spoiled brat, and blamed you for things that God only knows there’s no explanation for.

You weren’t the best of friends to me, but then again, I haven’t been a great one either. I’d think about it for a while before you answer.

Hopefully, the brownies soften you up a bit.

And Colby? Your letter might have been right at the time, but it’s not right anymore. You have all of us for as long as you want us. You’re not alone in the dark. Trust me. I know what that feels like.

Corinna

I clutch the letter in disbelief. Leaning my head back, my breathing sounds harsh in the empty room. There’s still distance between us because we’d grown apart in so many fundamental ways, but this was so much more than I ever expected. Between whatever is going on with the tumor in her head, her crazy schedule, and me starting a new job, it’d be insanity to try to start something right now, right? And let’s not forget, I don’t want to be one of the crowd anymore.

I want Corinna when she’s ready to be mine only.

Putting the letter on my desk, I open up the brownies and remove a few. After hiding them, I disengage the security lock. No sooner than the final tumbler opens, my door flies open. Charlie and Caleb are standing there, looking like a pack of hungry wolves. They barely glance at me before they fall upon the brownies.

“Don’t you get fed at home?” I say before reaching for one in the box and taking my first bite. Jesus, they’re better than I remembered.

“Not this kind,” Charlie moans around a mouthful of my brownie.

“Be glad Keene had to drive Cori back to her house. You might get more than one,” Caleb advises. “And don’t try to hide them in your desk. He’ll just pick the lock and claim it was work related.”

Damn. Now I have to find a different hiding spot.

“There’s no need for that,” Keene’s smooth voice interrupts. What the hell? Corinna only just left. “Ali came to pick her up since I have a meeting with Colby.”

“Since when?” I demand.

“Since my sister-in-law baked those brownies. Do I look like an idiot? Now, fork over the chocolate and I won’t kick you in the balls for knowing something was wrong with Corinna and not telling us.” Keene smirks.

Caleb, his lips rimmed with chocolate, agrees. “It’s worth it, Colby. If you and Cori are in a good place, she’ll make you more. She can’t recreate your testicles.”

Damn, if the bastard isn’t right. Unwillingly, I watch as my bosses devour all but the few brownies I hid right before they came into my office. As I slowly munch on the only one I’m willing to let them see, I wonder what to do next.