Free Heart Signs by Cari Quinn Page A

had started out as a way to have fun and boost her nonexistent self-confidence had turned into a mistake that had dogged her for years.
    She’d finally moved on. Even if her friends said she was too picky, that there were nice guys all over and she needed to stop setting unattainable goals. But she wanted that zap of heat, that jolt of awareness. Of recognition.
    What she’d found, no matter how much it scared her, with Sam.
    The more she read, the more certain she became that he would get it. Her. He wouldn’t vilify her for the things she’d done wrong. Of all people, he understood how important it was to forgive and go forward.
    She’d forgiven herself for her youthful transgression years ago. Sam hadn’t forgiven himself yet. Guilt dripped from every cobweb strung up in the corners of his apartment. Her gut told her that he believed if he let go of those feelings he’d be releasing his wife, something he wasn’t ready to do. Whether that was because he loved her too much to move on or because he didn’t know his next step was anyone’s guess.
    She took the last sip of wine and set the glass aside. Tonight she wouldn’t be getting toasted while she read. His pain demanded more respect.

    M y buddies think I’m doing better than I am. They still invite me over to watch the game and I just know that one of them will suggest we hit up a bar one of these nights. They’d never tell me to sleep with another woman to get over you, but that’s how it’s done. Let go of one woman, grab the next…but that’s a game I won’t play. Though I know you’re doing enough hurting for us both, suffering the way I am makes me feel like I’m doing my part. Sharing the burden I made you carry.
    Maybe one day I’ll get used to sleeping alone again. I think what scares me most is that you’ll get used to it first.

    R ory let out a long breath and tucked the letter back in its envelope before she moved on to the next. This one had been written a couple weeks later. The tone hadn’t changed. Despair and more despair. The next three letters were more of the same. He seemed to become more comfortable with his feelings, almost resigned to them.
    Then she noticed the four envelopes in the center of the stack encircled with three yellow rubber bands. These must be different.

    D ear Brandy ,
    Since I write love letters to your mom, who doesn’t want to see me anymore and seems pretty resistant to changing her mind, it only makes sense I’d write to you and your sister too. I think about you girls all the time. You’d be a toddler now, running around causing mischief, and I’d be the dad who followed you around and asked you to tidy up your toy box, but who never yelled because you didn’t. I think I’d be so awed by you, by knowing that some weird alchemy of your mom’s traits and mine had made you into the perfect little creature you’d have to be, that I wouldn’t be able to yell ever. Or spank. Back when I was growing up my dad always told me I’d discover what it was like to have a crazy son of my own one day. Well, that hasn’t happened yet. I’ve only ever been a dad to daughters, two beautiful, precious little girls who I never got to hear cry or laugh or watch take their first clumsy steps. I never got to hear them call me Daddy.
    I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a father. When your mama told me she was pregnant, the first thing I wanted to do was escape. I wasn’t ready. At nineteen, who’s ready for much? We’d partied too hard and made some mistakes and then there was you. I figured I’d regret you and those mistakes but I never did. And though I didn’t fall in love with your mama until after she wore my gold ring, it didn’t make that love any less real. You brought us together and gave us hope. In so many ways you saved us.

    R ory rubbed a hand over her face, needing to erase the mental imprint of Sam’s handwritten words on that yellowed paper. She doubted she’d ever be able to.
    God, had any