Colton's Secret History
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Jennifer D. Bokal
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Prologue
The sun had not crested over the horizon, yet the sky was lightening by degrees, from ebony to charcoal to a smoky gray. The streetlights that lined Main Street had gone dark. The stores had yet to open. The town of Braxville had yet to wake.
For Julia Jones, it was the best time of the day.
She waited in her car, the engine idling and the heat turned to full blast. A sacked lunch, packed by her mother, sat on the passenger seat. And Julia herself held a pen and notebook. The solitude was a blessing and she began—as she always did—writing a letter.
Luke,
It’s been months since we last talked, but I want you to know that I love you still. I know that neither one of us can help our separation. I miss you just the same. Yesterday, I saw a commercial—the one with the cat playing the piano. Have you seen it? Do you think it’s all done with computers or was the cat trained? Either way, it made me laugh. And whenever I’m happy, I think of you.
When do you think we’ll be able to see each other again? I know you’re busy, but I just miss you so much and would do anything to be with you right this minute.
I’ll write you again tomorrow.
As always, you have all of my love,
Julia
She ripped the page from her journal. After folding it into thirds, she shoved the paper into an envelope and opened the door. Julia ran across the street, the sound of her footfalls on the pavement mingled with the ding, ding, ding of her car’s sensor.
A blue mailbox sat on the curb. Julia set her purse atop the box as she found a pen for addressing her letter.
“Luke Walker,” she wrote, before adding several hearts around his name.
From her bag, she also removed a roll of tape. A piece of tape was placed at the top of the envelope, and she stuck it to the front door of Walker Hardware. Her hand lingered on the plain white envelope as her heart raced.
“I will always love you, Luke,” she said, her whispered words forming into a cloud of steam.
Her work done, Julia returned to her warm car and waited.
Like always, Luke Walker exited through the door next to the hardware store that led to several apartments. Though she’d never been invited to his house, Julia knew that Luke lived above the store—along with three other apartments he let out to rent.
Luke wore a red sweatshirt and a pair of black running shorts—an inadvisable decision given the morning’s chill. Julia reached for her journal and made a note that she needed to remind Luke to dress for the weather.
Reaching his arms overhead, he twisted his torso. Left, right. Right, left. He bent at the waist and touched his toes. Slipping earbuds into his ears, Luke took the first few steps of his jog.
Julia pressed her hands to her mouth, breathless with excitement. This was the moment.
Luke stumbled to a stop. His blue eyes narrowed, his gaze directed at the letter.
He removed the envelope from the door and the paper from the envelope. Rubbing a hand on his days-old beard, he scanned the page before crumpling both in his fist. He took off at a jog once again and threw Julia’s letter into a garbage can as he passed.
Her eyes filled with tears.
He’d seen her letter. He’d read it.
They were connected and he loved her still.
It wasn’t the way it had been the last time, when Julia felt such a strong connection to the handsome actor in all the spy movies. She’d met Luke Walker, an important man in Braxville. Luke had taken her to the movies and to play mini-golf and out for ice cream.
Nor would this relationship end the same way it had with the actor.
Where Julia had gone to the Southern California studio, then to an agent’s office, then to the actor’s home. Her visit had ended when the police came and found her sitting on the kitchen floor. She was covered in blood, like hot silk, and pressed the knife to her own chest.
After that, she went to the hospital in California where days turned to weeks and weeks became months. Eventually, the scars on her wrists were nothing more than silver threads.
Her mother never said anything to anyone. Nobody in Braxville knew where she’d gone—or why.
She was home now and better than ever.
Using the side-view mirror, she watched Luke sprint down the street. Even from the back, she could tell that his blond hair was damp with sweat. His strides were long. He was taller than the actor. And sure, there were other differences—Luke’s teeth weren’t as straight or as white. His arms were toned, but not as well muscled as the actor’s. Yet, they shared the same dark blond hair color. The same shade of eyes. The straight nose and well-defined jaw. In fact, there were so many similarities that they could be brothers.
The doctors had been right about relationships. Julia had to personally know someone in order to love them—and to be loved in return.
And, oh my, she did know Luke Walker. She knew his schedule. She knew how he liked to play the same game with her every morning. He’d always read her note quickly, careful to throw it away and keep their affair a secret. That was how Julia knew the two of them were fated to be together.
Moreover, Julia also knew that nothing and no one would ever keep them apart.
