If you're looking for an adventure in the morally grey, and a crash course of the human condition, this is the story for you! What is good and evil? Where is that line drawn, and who decides that? Packed with humor, danger, feels, and awkward relati...
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This was not how she had wanted to see Tanner, but there had been no other choice. Rachel touched her stomach and groaned aloud as she waited to be escorted in by the guards. The bump of her stomach was showing enough that she couldn't hide it, but it was still minimal. Either way, she was now eighteen weeks in and hadn't been able to tell Tanner.
With Nathan on constant watch from the press, Oliver had highly recommended she stay away from him. Oliver's recommending was completely refusing to help her visit, so it was more of a demand than anything. Instead, she had settled for calling Nathan.
It had been pleasant, hearing his voice. His voice chase away the ghost of him rolled out lifeless at least, though it was still less than seeing him. They had talked a bit about Julian, and Rachel really wanted to visit him, but Oliver was the worst overbearing gate keeper.
"After," was all he kept saying.
After this whole ordeal was over. After... After... Rachel still shuddered when she thought about it, so she threw the thought away as she sat on one of the chairs to wait.
Nathan had briefly mentioned that he was writing Ian, and she had felt like an idiot for having never thought of that. She'd immediately started and had been writing Tanner letters up until today. They had no name, and the return address was a P.O. Box that Rachel doubted even existed. Oliver had the mailman in their area bribed to slip it in with his mail while keeping their names off of it. If they traced it back to her, it would be hell for all of them.
So, she'd waited, and waited, and waited.
Tanner had written her back once, but it was clear that he'd had trouble doing so. The letter, she kept on her. The prison was making her wait a hell of a while to see him, but she was also in an empty room waiting for a shift change. When the guards changed, the ones Oliver had paid took over, and that was when she could visit.
Pulling out the letter, she stared at it with a sigh.
I'm not much of a writer. I have trouble putting my thoughts into words, let alone on paper. I also don't do a deal of handwriting, and I can't stop my hands from shaking, so I'm sorry if you can't even read this.
The paper was crumpled as if it had been crushed between his hands, and it was dotted with spots were the ink had gotten wet and then dried, the words veering out from the small circles. The contents of the letter hadn't even been understandable, let alone easily legible.
I can't think. At all. I can barely bring myself to calm down enough to do this. The room keeps spinning and I can't sit here like this unmoving. My problems shouldn't be thrown on you. I should have never stopped to help you.
It was full of nothing but how he could barely write and how he hated himself for putting her through this with him. All that effort and he couldn't have written anything else? Rachel had to remember that Tanner had low self-esteem. Instead of understanding that she was longing and grieving for him, he imagined this was some big inconvenience to her and an emotional pain she shouldn't be forced to suffer.
