Into the Light (University of Isles #2)

30. Chapter 30

Chapter thirty

I felt.

I was feeling.

My body quivered, and the paper in my hands seemed as fragile as my trembling grip. Clutching it tightly to my chest, I closed my eyes and looked up to the sky, as if searching for a connection to him once more.

The sound of her boots reverberated through the forest as I dismounted the motorcycle, my face still drenched from the unrestrained tears. I carefully placed the envelope containing the letter inside the compartment on my bike for safekeeping.

Walking toward the sound of her footsteps, we locked eyes when we finally met, both of us pausing, as though aware that reading these letters might alter the course of our lives. And they did, but in ways we could never have foreseen.

“Ember?” I whispered, my voice quivering with emotion.

She sprinted toward me with unwavering determination, and I opened my arms wide as she crashed into me. Her sobs racked her entire frame, and she crumpled under my embrace, consumed by tears and exhaustion.

“It . . . I . . . Walsh . . .” She struggled with her words, so I held her closer. Swallowing hard, I allowed myself to feel, acknowledging the sadness of losing my brother, the pain I had carried for months until her return, and the guilt that had plagued me for a year.

“It’s all over,” I whispered through my own tears. “It’s all okay now.”

It wasn’t over per se, but the pain we felt finally had some closure to it, and I knew that deep down inside it was our turn to live and we could close this chapter. But closing a chapter of a book doesn’t mean it ends. It was a part of our life, but we could move to the next part of our story.

As our tears gradually subsided, I continued to cradle her in my arms, her head nestled against my chest. She slowly pulled away, and our gazes locked. Her eyes were rimmed with red and swollen from the mixture of physical and emotional pain, intermingled with the catharsis brought on by these letters.

“We need to find Walsh,” she whispered, and I nodded. “I need to figure out why he was there that night.”

“Are you okay?” I asked, refraining from prying into the contents of her letter, as I understood that it was her story to share or withhold, her choice.

“Yes . . . no.” She chuckled as if her answer surprised her. “I just want to finally be able to get the last clue that we needed.”

I shook my head in agreement. With one last deep inhale, the smell of pines wafted through my nose. I looked around me as warm fingers wiped the wetness from my cheeks.

I took one more deep breath before I gestured behind us where my bike still stood. “Let’s go find him.”

Ember looked down, clutching her letter to her chest, and I turned to walk away.

“Rain,” she shouted, and I turned toward her. She closed the gap between us and reached for me.

I looked down at her hand and then back up, locking my gaze with hers. Her eyes told such a different story than the rest of her. They were soft and gentle. I grabbed her hand, we walked in silence toward the bike where she tucked the envelope next to mine and put on her helmet.

I revved the engine, but right before she leaped onto the back, she looked at me and whispered, “I love you.”

The words could have been heard through the pines, ringing out like a melody before settling into their rightful place—my heart.

“Together,” I whispered back.