Back to you | ✔

14 | Chapter Fourteen

B O N N I E

Wait, what?!

"I don't understand... I didn't get any emails or texts from you," I question. He chuckles, but I don't understand the amusement. "No, I wrote to you, as in pen to paper, I wrote you letters." I instantly blush at the thought of him sitting down to write me letters.

Both of us are now confused; he goes to speak but then stops himself before looking back up at the night sky. "I don't understand, I know I sent them to your house," he mutters his question to the night sky as if it held all the answers.

I sit up straight, pulling my legs to my chest as his hand slips from mine and back into his front jean pockets.

"Mom never gave me any letters. Surely if we got any, she would know," saying this out loud, it all makes sense now.

Mom had hidden the letters from me; it was the only explanation.

Whatever her reasons were, I don't care; I need to find the letters and find out why she kept them from me.

Sliding off of the hood of the car in a rush, I reach out to grab Josh's hand again, this time pulling him to me. "I need to go home and speak to Mom," his face twisted into a frown, confusion covering his beautiful face.

"You think your mom has the letters?" he says, catching on to my earlier statement.

"I don't know, but I need to find out," I admit, secretly praying that I am wrong.

Without question, he walks back around to the driver's side of his car. We both climb back in and drive off back towards my house.

The car ride back to mine was uncomfortable, neither of us addressing the situation any further. We didn't get to finish our talk, but finding out that Josh had sent me letters when he left that was something I never knew.

When we pull up outside my house, I notice all the lights inside are off, which most likely means Mom is already asleep, ugh great.

Josh turns off his cars, shutting off his lights, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to us. I look over at him, but he is staring at his hands, anger burning in his stare, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are turning a confusing mixture of red and white.

"Thank you for talking to me tonight," I say, trying to break the tension. He doesn't say anything or make a move to look over at me. "I'm sorry," I begin before he cuts me off.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, BonBon." He grunts.

"I sent you a letter every week for those four years I was gone. Even when I thought you had moved on with your life and wanted nothing to do with me, I never stopped writing to you."

"I never gave up on us. I want you to know that."

He turns to face me now; his eyes fixated on my mouth.

His gaze crawling up my face, meeting my stare as he leans in, sending my pulse racing. A small lock of my hair falls forward, landing on my cheek, but with his hand, he softly brushes my hair back with his thumb, stroking my jaw.

I look up into his eyes, which are no longer sad but burning with lust. I think this is it; he is going to kiss me again.

Then his lips touch my cheek.

My heart crashes to a halt, my breath caught in my throat, begging to be released. He pulled away slowly, our eyes locking in on each other as he leans his forehead against mine.

Both of us breathing heavily, his hands on either side of my face caging me in, holding me there against him. I reach up, encasing his hands with mine, pulling them down to my mouth. I kiss his hands over and over while I whisper to him, "I believe you."