"I'm not sure I'd give you a choice in the matter," he grinds out, his voice turning hard. "I'm not letting you go, baby." He kisses me hard. "Do you fucking understand what I'm saying?"
I nod, relief washing over me. "Yes."
* * *
Early the following day, we pull into the bar's parking lot. As we lay in bed last night, I told him about Sully and how he was a friend of my father's, that he has been like an uncle to me, and how I worked for him for the past several years.
Foster pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine. "You sure you don't want to hang around so you can talk to him in person?"
I shake my head. "This is the way he would have wanted it. The man said the same thing to me every day after my father passed." I turn in my seat and look at him. "He always said he hoped he would arrive to work one day, and I wouldn't be here. All he ever wanted was for me to leave this place and find what makes me happy." I turn back and peer through the passenger window, fogging up from the cold. "I felt lost for so long. I don't know why I never took Sullivan's advice just to leave. To go somewhere, anywhere, else. It's like he knew I was dead inside. Like a part of me was eaten away by the cancer that stole my dad from me."
I turn back to Foster. "I know now that the universe had another plan for me—you." He reaches across the seat and grips the back of my neck, pulling me in for a brutal kiss. "I don't understand how one of the worst moments of my life leads to one of the best," I tell him. "But I'm thankful it did.".
"If I could, I would bring that sorry piece of shit back to life, thank him for giving you to me, then slowly watch as his soul left this earth as I sank my blade into his heart until every drop of blood drained from his body."
After another bruising kiss, Foster releases me from his hold, and I open the truck door. The cold wind nips at my skin, making me shiver. Taking the piece of paper and thumb tack from my pocket, I make my way up to the bar's entrance.
I look down at the folded letter and close my eyes. When I open them, I peer over my shoulder at Foster, now standing at the truck's hood, arms folded across his chest and his eyes on me. I give him a small smile, then turn back, kiss the letter, and tack it to the door.
Sullivan,
I did it.
Love always,
Beatrix
The End is just the beginning
