“Yes,” I whispered. “I told him. I swear I did.”
I kept reading, my heart pounding.
Jordan had written again and again. When no replies came, his mother told him I didn’t want anything to do with him. That I hated him. That I had moved on.
I pushed my chair back so suddenly it scraped loudly across the floor.
“No.”
“Mom—”
“No,” I said again, gripping the counter. “That’s not possible.”
“There’s more,” Liam said gently.
I looked at him.
“She said some of the letters were kept. In a box.”
A box.
Proof.
