Chapter 39 The Letter

Chapter 39 The Letter
It takes two more days of arguing before Thad finally gives in.
I understand his hesitation. Any contact with my old life is a risk. A letter can be traced, analyzed, and handed over to authorities who are already looking for me. One wrong word could expose the clan, put my family in danger, or lead hunters straight to our doorstep.
But I also can’t keep living like this, knowing my mother is out there, grieving for a daughter she thinks is dead. I’m sure Dana is blaming herself for not arriving at the bar sooner that night, and the people who love me are suffering because I vanished without a trace.
So I pushed. And begged. And promised to follow every rule he set.
And now I’m sitting at his desk with a pen in my hand, staring at a blank piece of paper.
It’s been ages since I’ve written anything by hand. My signature on credit card receipts, maybe. A quick note on a coworker’s birthday card. But an actual letter? I can’t remember the last time.
Thad insisted on paper to avoid any electronic trail or metadata.
I stare at the blank page and try to figure out where to begin.
Dear Mom.
Two words. That’s all I’ve managed in the last twenty minutes. Two words and a comma and a whole lot of empty space.
Thad sits in the armchair across from me, pretending to read a book. I can feel him watching me over the top of it, waiting to see what I’ll write. I promised I wouldn’t say anything that could put my family in danger.
I’m just not sure what’s safe and what’s not.
“You don’t have to do this tonight,” he offers. “It can wait.”
“No, it can’t.” I tap the pen against the paper and add, “She’s been wondering where I am for over a month. The police are involved. Dana said she’s been calling everyone I’ve ever met. She deserves to know I’m alive. Even if I can’t tell her the truth.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know yet. How do you explain disappearing for six weeks without mentioning vampires or fated mates or the fact that you’re technically dead?”
“You tell her what she needs to hear. That you’re safe, you’re happy, and she doesn’t need to worry.”
“But I’m not happy. And she absolutely needs to worry.” I set down the pen and rub my palms against my eyes. “I just don’t want her to worry about the right things.”
Thad doesn’t respond. He just waits, giving me space to work through it on my own.
I pick up the pen again.
Dear Mom,
I know you’ve been looking for me. I know you’re scared and confused and probably furious that I disappeared without a word. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.
I got an opportunity. A job overseas, working for a company that needed someone to start right away. The pay is incredible, and the experience will change my life. But the location is remote, and I won’t have reliable phone or internet access for a while.
I pause and read over what I’ve written. It sounds ridiculous. No one takes a job that fast. No one vanishes without at least sending a text first.
But what else can I say?
I continue writing.
I know I should have told you before I left. I should have called or at least sent a message. But everything happened so quickly, and by the time I realized how worried everyone must be, I was already gone.
Please don’t be angry with me. Please don’t spend any more time or money trying to find me. I’m safe. I’m healthy. I’m exactly where I need to be.
Tell Dana I miss her. Tell Uncle Frank I’m sorry I missed his birthday. Tell everyone I love them and I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.
I love you, Mom. Even when I don’t say it enough.
Thelma
I set down the pen and stare at the letter, watching the ink blur as tears spill down my cheeks.
It’s not enough. It will never be enough. My mother will read this and know something is wrong. She’ll sense the lies between the lines, the things I’m not saying, the truth I’m desperately trying to hide.
But she’ll also know I’m alive. And right now, that has to be enough.
“Can I see it?” Thad asks.
I slide the paper across the table toward him. He picks it up and reads it.
“It’s good,” he decides. “Believable. She’ll have questions, but there’s nothing here that could lead anyone to us.”
“She’s going to hate me.”
He sets the letter down and looks at me. “You’re her daughter. Whatever anger she feels will be buried under the gratitude of knowing you’re safe.”
“You don’t know my mother.”
“I know mothers. I’ve watched countless families torn apart by distance and secrets and circumstances beyond their control. The love doesn’t disappear. It just finds new ways to survive.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and try to believe him.
“What if she doesn’t buy it? What if she keeps looking?”
“Then we’ll deal with it..” He reaches up and brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Whatever happens, I’m here.”
I want to point out that he’s the reason I’m in this situation in the first place. That if he’d just approached me like a normal person eight months ago, none of this would have happened.
But I’m too tired to fight. And deep down, I know it’s not entirely his fault. Menlow made his choices. I’m just living with the consequences.
“How do we send it?” I ask instead.
“I have people who can handle that. They’ll mail it from a location far from here, somewhere that matches your cover story.”
I shake my head. “Sometimes I forget you’re basically a vampire mafia boss.”
“Clan leader,” he corrects with a hint of a smile. “Mafia boss implies criminal activity. I prefer to think of myself as a benevolent dictator.”
Despite everything, I laugh. “Thank you for letting me do this.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to ask.” He picks up the letter and folds it. “I’ll make sure it gets to her safely.”
I nod and watch him tuck the paper into his jacket pocket. My mother’s name is written on the envelope in my messy handwriting. By this time next week, she’ll be holding it in her hands, reading words I wrote in a vampire’s mansion while crying over a life I’ll never get back.