Three months later

I’d healed physically.

Mace had healed emotionally and mentally.

We were whole, and absolutely freaking perfect. Life was spectacular. Every morning I woke up with Mace was better than the one before, and considering my strong disdain for mornings, that was really saying something.

The nightmares were gone. The wounds on the surface and beneath were completely gone and we were moving on.

I think it helped both of us tremendously that Daniel saw serious jail time for aggravated kidnapping and assault, battery, grand theft auto, assault with a deadly weapon, and a whole litany of other charges that came thanks to his stupidity that night. Needless to say—but worth it anyway—Daniel Logan was never going to be a problem again. And after this last and final blow to their reputation at the hands of their son, Mommy and Daddy Logan weren’t feeling too generous. They refused to scrape together even a penny for his defense, and let him rot with a public defender that was fresh out of law school and didn’t know his ass from his elbow.

The Logans were done. Ruined. With Daniel in jail, the elder two packed up and moved to parts unknown, and no one was sad to see them go. We were all too happy to move on like they never existed.

Time went on and Mace and I fell back into our comfortable routine, only now, without anything hanging over our heads, it was even better than before. The black hole in my chest that had been prominent since the loss of Will finally began to shrink until it became nothing more than a distant memory. I would always miss my brother. I’d remember him every day for the rest of my life, but I’d do it grateful to have had such an amazing brother for as long as I did.

It got easier, learning to live without him, Mace saw to that. And I finally reached the point where I could go to the storage unit and go through his things. My parents joined Mace and I in that task, and we spent the better part of a weekend clearing it out, going through everything and separating it into things to donate and things we wanted to keep for ourselves.

We were three quarters of the way through when I stumbled on a box I hadn’t thought about in ages. I hadn’t looked at it since the day I buried it up on a shelf of m closet. It went through every move with me, but only as an item that was stuffed into a bigger box and eventually tucked away somewhere else, forgotten once again.

My chest squeezed at the sight of it, and my hands trembled as I pulled the lid off and looked inside. It was all there, everything I’d packed away, perfectly preserved all these years later.

“What’s that?” Mace asked, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist as he stared into the shoebox over my shoulder.

“It’s you,” I answered on a whisper.

“Huh?”

With a smile, I picked up the box and turned, forcing him to lower his arms so he could see. “It’s you. It’s everything you ever gave me. I kept it all.”

He looked back down, lifting a hand and began rummaging through the tattered shoebox. Snack sized chip bags, candy bars, that tiny frame with the picture of our whole crew, even the beautiful leather bound journal. It was all there. My heart sored.

He picked up the picture frame, his face slowly stretching into a smile as he looked at the photo inside. I remembered it clear as day. Will was standing in the middle of Garrett and Killian, their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders as they hammed it up for the camera. Declan was to the far left standing with Tate in front of him, his arms around her waist the same way Mace had just been holding me seconds ago, both of them beaming. Mace was at the right end… with me. But it was the way he was holding onto me that made the photograph so special. Both his arms were locked around my shoulders, pinning me against his side, and I was hugging his stomach. I was staring at the camera with the biggest grin on my face. But he was looking down at me with a soft, beautiful smile on his face.

“Christ,” he grunted, his ocean eyes brimming with emotion as he studied the picture closely. “Jesus Christ. Look at you, Goldie. So goddamn beautiful. Even back then I knew what I was holding in my arms.”

“I’m taking that box home,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “And that picture’s going on my bedside table. I want it to be the second to last thing I see every night for the rest of my life.”

“What’s the last thing you wanna see?” he asked, turning his gaze from the frame to me.

“You,” I answered honestly. “I want you to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep every night.”

He dropped the pewter frame back into the box and grabbed me, banding his arms around me. “You already know I’ll give you anything you want, baby.”

“I’m counting on it,” I replied with a huge grin, pushing up on my tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips.

“Think you two can go more than five seconds without gropin’ so we can get this done?”

At my dad’s grumble, we both turned his way and laughed as Mom smacked him upside his head.

“Shut it, Jon. Can’t you see they’re having a moment?”

“Yeah, and that moment’s gonna give me a hernia if I’m forced to move this desk by myself. Get your ass over here, son. Let’s empty this thing out so we can load it up.”

The desk, along with several other pieces, were going into the back of a big moving truck set for a women’s shelter on the other side of town. They’d been in desperate need of new furniture, and the woman on the phone had been beside herself with joy when I called to inquire about their needs. I was glad my big brother’s stuff was going somewhere where it was needed, and he would too. Will was just that kind of guy.

“Better get over there before your dad skins me alive,” Mace muttered before leaning in to give me one last kiss.

Once he and Dad descended on the desk, I closed up my shoebox, held it tight to my chest, and carried it back to Mace’s car so I could tuck it in carefully to take the trip back to Seattle with us.

It amazed me how much life had changed since the last time I saw it. When I packed it up I was young and heartbroken, convinced I’d never have what I truly wanted. And now… well, now I’d like nothing more than to go back in time and tell that girl to hold on, that her time was coming, and it was so totally going to be worth the wait.

“Love you, big bro,” I whispered toward the heavens. “Always and forever.”

Then I shut the car door and got back to work.

* * *

Mace

The bottom drawer of the old desk was a bitch to get open. It was like the damn thing was sealed shut with superglue. Jon had headed to his car for a crowbar to pry the sucker open, but I wasn’t giving up. Placing my boot in the center, I gave the drawer one last firm kick, finally shaking it loose.

“About damn time,” I mumbled to myself as I bent and yanked it open. What I saw sitting on top stopped me in my tracks. I blinked, my heart rate kicking up at the sight of my name scrawled across the front of a white envelope. I’d know that handwriting anywhere. It was the same shitty handwriting I’d had to learn to read back in high school in order to copy off Will’s tests in Algebra and History.

Holding my breath, I reached into the drawer and plucked the envelope out. The back flap hadn’t been sealed, and I quickly flipped it over and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

When I unfolded it and saw it was a letter from my best friend addressed to me, all the air expelled from my lungs.

Brother,

Bet you’re wondering why I’m writing you a letter like a chick instead of just calling your ass and saying what needs to be said.

Well, the truth is, this is a love letter, and I feel that putting my feelings for you down on paper would be easier than admitting them to you out loud...

HA! I’m just fucking with you! But admit it, I had you going there for a second, didn’t I? Dude, I’d love to see your face right about now. Bet you look freaked as all hell.

I paused to laugh at Will’s typical twisted sense of humor. Christ, I missed him.

The real truth is, I have a lot of shit I need to say to you, and trying to get your ass on the phone while sober is damn near impossible.

First off: Get your head outta your ass, man. You’re drinking yourself to death, wasting the gift God saw fit to bestow on you by wrecking your body and mind. It’s time this shit stops. I know you, man. You’re better than this. Don’t make me drive to Seattle and kick your ass straight, because you know I will.

Second—and pay attention, bro, because this is the most important part: MAKE A MOVE ON LYLA, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! If you’ve been waiting for a written invitation to go after my baby sister, consider this it. I know you have it twisted in your head that you aren’t good enough for her, but let me set you straight. You’re dead wrong, man. There’s no one, NO ONE, on this planet better for my Ly than you. She’s crazy about you, brother. Has been all her life, and I know you feel the same. Go for it. Make a move. If not for her, then for you, because I can promise you’ll never have a better, stronger, more protective and loving woman than her.

You take that chance and I know to my bones she’ll make you happy for the rest of your life, and that’s all I ever wanted for you, Mace. You deserve it, whether you’re willing to admit it or not. So. Go. For. It.

I guess that’s all I got for now. This letter writing shit’s actually pretty cool. Maybe I’ll take it up regular. Now let’s see if I actually get off my ass in order to buy stamps and mail it, huh?

Anyway, until the next one.

Your buddy,

Will

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time I read that letter until my lungs began to burn, desperate for oxygen.

I pulled in a necessary lungful of air and squeezed my eyes shut as I sent a silent prayer to the heavens.

Thank you, brother. I promise, I won’t let you down.

“Everything all right?”

I folded the paper and stuffed it back into the envelope, tucking the letter into my back pocket as I turned and smiled at my woman, the love of my life.

“Everything’s perfect, baby.” I leaned down to give Lyla another kiss then got back to work.