It had been a long time since we'd stayed up all night discussing boys. Even though both of us had been lacking sleep from the night before, there was a lot to discuss. Wine was involved, and two showings of Pretty Woman on VHS. Although I had all the fixings to make us the spicy carbonara I'd forgotten about making in the haste of Steve's illness, we spent the night binging on literally anything from the cabinets that was unhealthy.

We laughed. We cried. For the first time, I was opening up about Steve and the parts of him being gone that still hurt. I explained my fears that came with having a deceased husband—ones Steve knew I was going to have and still eased the anxiety of loving someone else. I also explained my fears for Ollie, who was uncharted territory. These were two completely different men. The way I'd fallen for them was unique to each. With Steve, I always knew what I was getting into. There were no secrets, nothing about him I didn't know. With Ollie, I was learning as I went and falling along the way. There was still much to know about each other. When I voiced that concern to Hallie, my best friend was more than supportive.

Our conversation was not limited to just those two men. For the first time in years, Hallie finally admitted that she was coming to terms with TJ choosing someone else. As much as she wished her life with him was going to be forever, she now understood he was gone. It didn't mean Hallie didn't miss that friendship, just as I did, and just as Steve obviously did, too. TJ's letter was still stuffed into the pocket of my coat, and even though Hallie and I both were dying to read it, we had a pretty good guess what it contained. It was TJ's letter, and after a night with my best friend where I broke down and thanked her for taking care of me this year, TJ's store would be the next stop today. It helped that it was on the way to Mulligan's, where I needed to have a serious talk with a certain chef about how I'd been a shitty person this past week.

It seemed like forever ago since I'd walked into Thomas Jones Consignment and asked for a job from an old friend. I no longer needed to scrounge for pennies on the floor of my car for gas to get to work. Steve's bills were slowly being paid down. Part of me missed the Karens and their expired coupons. Hearing Hallie admit she missed her friendship with TJ made me feel the same. While Hallie was far from fixing that relationship, I believed TJ and I were on the mend. He really had been good to me, given the circumstances.

I crutched my way to the back of the store where the cash register was located. I could hear the beeps of items being scanned and followed them to their source. TJ—dressed again in a nice button-down, baby blue shirt with a matching tie I could not get used to seeing—was bagging the items and handing the plastic bag over the counter to the customer with a smile. He thanked them for their business and asked them to come again before lifting his attention to the gimp, who was next in line.

"Oh, no." He laughed with compassion. "What happened?"

"I lost the battle with a shard of glass," I said, explaining for what felt like the millionth time since it happened only two days prior. "Hurts like a bitch, but I'm tough."

"You are," he agreed. His hands fell to his pockets while retaining the smile.

TJ knew I was obviously here for a reason. He was waiting for me to spill it. The day I'd asked for the job here, I turned down the conversation of the person I was about to bring up. Steve's death had ruined me. Selfishly, I'd forgotten I wasn't the only person who loved him. Fishing through my coat pocket while trying to keep my balance, I found the small envelope that had fallen from my own letter and pulled it free. I extended it to TJ.

The smile fell from his face. "What is that?"

"Oh, come on, TJ. It's two capitalized letters, but you and I both know you recognize that terrible handwriting."

TJ licked his upper lip before his gray eyes glossed over. His head shook no. "But what is it?"

"He left one for each of us. I didn't read yours, and I don't know what Hallie's said either. They are personal. There's obviously something he wanted you to know."

"I can't read that."

"You can," I reminded him. "And you need to."

TJ looked at the envelope as if it would catch fire if he touched it. His hands weren't leaving the safety of his pockets. For once, I wasn't the first one shedding tears over Steve for the day. Of the four friends, TJ had gone the longest without speaking to Steve. Maybe it was because of the Hallie situation, but Hallie and I had our doubts about that now that TJ was being offered his own letter. His absence from Steve's life the last year was justified by another reason. Just because the four friends were all orphans, didn't mean we were all given up willingly. Some of us may never know why we were abandoned, but this was not the case for TJ.

"Can you read it out loud?" he asked, with his head still shaking. He moved himself around the counter and leaned his backside into it. "Sloan, I can't read that alone. Please?"

So much for not crying today, I thought to myself. That hand-writing was going to do me in two days in a row. Slowly, I pulled the letter free from the envelope and unfolded it. At a glance, it was short, sweet and exactly what I'd been expecting from Steve.

"To my brother from another mother," I began with a teary-eyed smile matching TJ's. "I'm not sure when this letter will reach you. I know you won't read it yourself, and we both know Hallie, understandably, won't be the one to give it to you. That leaves our girl Sloan, and she had to fight her own demons to get to this point."

A hurt laugh escaped TJ, knowing his friend was more than right. Steve knew us all well.

"We are okay," I said, continuing with a shaky voice. "We were never not okay. From the day I found out I was sick, you were the last person I wanted to tell. You, my dear friend, have lost so many people in your life, and I never wanted to be a part of that hurt for you. I realize why you weren't here for my end. Never feel guilty about this. I understand, and I still love you. I'm giving those parents of yours a big hug, and I'm thanking them for giving me one of the best friends a guy could ask for. Steve."

I barely had Steve's name rolled off the tongue before I was allowing the crutches to collide with the floor, prepared for the hug I was engulfed in. I held TJ as we both cried for the friend and family we missed dearly.

>>

Eying the circular staircase from hell that led to Oliver Mulligan's apartment, I honestly debated attempting backing my way to the top floor. I had sent two text messages today that were ignored. One was just sent, demanding him to retreat from his damn apartment and come down to speak to me. We had things to discuss... like how crazily in love my stupid ass had fallen for him. I needed to make what happened this week right. He needed to understand, of the many battles happening in his head, Steve didn't need to be one of them.

After a lot of inner debating, the stairs on crutches would not be an option. It was time for a different approach—one that Ollie would not appreciate in the least. I maneuvered my crutches back through the door to the restaurant and to the bar area, where Mikah was taking inventory. The place wasn't open yet, which told me Ollie wasn't in the kitchen.

"I need a shot of tequila for courage and for you to go upstairs to get your brother, please."

Mikah continued writing whatever numbers he needed with a head that shook with a definite no. My impatience would not allow this brotherly feud bullshit today. This round and round between them was absurd.

"You know, you better than anyone should understand that life is really short," I told the back of Mikah's head. "This rift between you two needs to stop. Both of you need to grow up."

Mikah swung around with the tequila bottle and slammed it to the counter, followed by a shot glass. "I'm not the one who keeps it going. Or does that foot injury not recall his tantrum after telling the entire restaurant my fiancée loves him more?"

I frowned. "He didn't enjoy telling you that."

"Funny. He seemed pretty enthused as he said it."

Mikah slid the shot to me and turned away again. The small glimpse of his face that I got was enough to know the man was devastated. Things obviously weren't going well for him at home right now. Without knowing what type of advance Shelby even made at Ollie, I knew Mikah would not wait to hear it from his brother.

"He wanted to tell you after it happened. Would you have believed him if he said he was worried about straining your relationship further?"

Mikah didn't turn around. "No."

"Well, he was. Didn't matter how he told you, you'd take it exactly the same—as an attack on you. I asked him the next morning how he felt about that ring, and he said he didn't care about it. Just that he was worried about you getting hurt."

Mikah exhaled heavily and clicked his pen closed. "I knew as soon as she hesitated it was because of him. I was honestly surprised she came back into the room. She didn't find what she was looking for."

This time he turned around, showing me the same puffy eyes I'd seen the other night after hearing the truth from his brother. I understood what he was referring to, taking the shot with a nod. He knew the truth, but didn't want to accept it. Shelby did both brothers dirty to get what she wanted.

"He was with you that night."

My head bobbed to agree. I uncomfortably shifted the crutches beneath me. It's not that I cared. Mikah knew Ollie and I were sleeping together. I just didn't want to be judged by someone who knew I'd only been widowed for a year. I knew Mikah, but I didn't know Mikah. I was a girl sleeping with her teacher, her boss, and was newly widowed. He was another one of my bosses whom I rarely spoke to.

"He likes you a lot."

It made me smile. "Yeah."

"Mutual?"

"Very. So much so that I need another shot."

Mikah sighed again and tossed the pen to the bar. This time, the entire bottle of Jose Cuervo was pushed towards me. "I'll be right back."

This was a major win. Mikah Mulligan was leaving his post at the bar and was actually going to ascend the stairs to retrieve the brother he rarely spoke to. For me! I felt damn proud of myself, wearing a grin as I knocked back the second shot that was calming the nerves. There were many things I needed to say to Ollie, and I had a real knack for never saying the correct thing first. Order was important here. First thing first, we needed to talk about school. I owed him one hell of an apology for him losing his job. That needed to lead me into what Hallie said. Ollie risked his job for our relationship, and I needed to show him this relationship was worth something important to me, too.

"This was on the door." An envelope was tossed to the bar. My name was written on it, and this time it was Ollie's handwriting scribbled across the front.

What's with the letters this week? I asked myself. How did he know I'd end up at his door?

"He wasn't up there?"

"Nope. I knocked. No promises he wasn't ignoring me. We've gotten good at it over the years."

There was no grace for ripping open this envelope. My heart was ready to beat its way right out of my chest. There would not be enough tequila in my veins for what I was about to read, and I knew it.

"Chef,

As promised, the kitchen is yours to run. I have all the faith in the world that you've got this. You're ready. I'll let you know when I'm settled in Seattle.

Ollie"

My throat caught my heart.

Seattle? As in... Washington?

"Mikah..." I stared at the paper in a panic. "Was his car here?"

"No. I always park beside him. His spot was empty."

"Mikah, he's gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone. Left. He's not coming back."

Mikah grabbed the paper from my hands and read as I reached for the tequila bottle. He was fired for the night he'd offered me a job and gave me a grade. Had I forgotten his whole offer already? He wanted away from here. I was being trained to run the kitchen so he could leave, and he did just that.

"Kit..." Mikah's phone was now pressed to his ear with his other hand still holding the paper. "Where is Ollie? I know you know. He wouldn't leave the state without telling someone. He wouldn't do that to mom."

Mikah peered at his watch and then to me. It wasn't a good sign. Why did it feel like the tequila was already creeping its way back up my throat? He seriously left? Not even a goodbye?

"Two at O'Hare. Got it."

And no way I was going to make it in time with this injury.

>>

O'Hare International Airport was known for practically being its own city. Living in Chicago, I'd seen the outside of it a few times but never been within its walls. I did not know how to navigate an airport on my own, or where to begin my search for Ollie. The size of the place was adding to my anxiety.

All Mikah could do to help was hail the cab that got me here. Someone had to stay back at the restaurant. He'd told the cab driver to step on it, but it was a weekday in Chicago. Traffic was atrocious. Now I was standing in the middle of one of the country's largest airports, on crutches, with no way of knowing which gate was Ollie's. Through messages with Kit, all I had learned was he was flying American Airlines. There were televisions and signs, with arrows everywhere I looked. People were rushing past to make their flights. This had to be the most overwhelming place I'd ever stepped foot in... and that included the inner-city school system.

I wasn't used to answered prayers after losing Steve to cancer. But when a worker at the airport strolled towards me with an empty wheelchair, I considered that a first.

"You!" I pointed to a man who was surprised at my outburst. "I'm going to miss my flight because of my injury! Is that taken?"

"Uh." He looked from me to the chair in his hands. "Where are you going?"

"American Airlines, Seattle flight at two?"

"That's not much time, but yeah." He seemed to know the way, turning the chair in the opposite direction I was headed prior to our encounter. "Hop in."

"Thank you!" I squealed as I claimed the seat.

I lifted the crutches, so they didn't drag. Even though the stranger walked fast, every second felt like I was closer to losing Ollie. My head was still trying to wrap around the fact he had it in him to leave. He was leaving his mom, his sister and niece, a brother that he cared for more than he wanted to let on... he was even leaving Mulligan's.

I was counting every gate we passed with more prayers, hoping the next one would be his. It took almost ten minutes to get to an area that was defined as American Airlines. The man who had control of my movement barely had the wheelchair to a stop before I was pushing myself out of it. There was pain shooting up my foot with extra weight on it, but it was nothing compared to my heart breaking as I watched a line of people walking onto the boarding bridge.

"Ollie!" I began calling into a sea of people, pushing my way through to get a better look. I was looking for a tall, muscular man with short brown hair that had a cute little cowlick that always made it look messy. My head was snapping back and forth as I was pushing strangers out of the way with the crutches. "Ollie! Oliver Mulligan!"

Nothing.

It wasn't until I saw burgundy and white plaid approach the desk to hand off a boarding pass that I had any hope of stopping him. "Chef!"

Of course, his title caused the man to look back at me, sapphire eyes widening at the sight. The woman at the desk barely had the ticket in her hand before Ollie was snatching it back. Crutches had never moved so fast. By the time I was close enough to stop, I was colliding with him.

Ollie grabbed my shoulders to steady me. "You shouldn't be here."

"I shouldn't be here? You shouldn't be here!" I said, shoving my hands into his stomach. It caused him to take a half-step backward. "Don't you dare go!"

His head shook no, with lips dipping at their corners. "I have to."

"You don't! Don't go," I begged, now pulling him by his plaid shirt. "Ollie, don't leave your family behind. Don't leave me."

His eyes wouldn't meet mine. Ollie was looking anywhere but me, mostly over my shoulder. No doubt he was still exhausted, but he looked worse than ever. "I can't stay, Sloan. I told you I needed away from here."

"You said the restaurant! Not Illinois entirely!" I argued. "Don't run from your problems, Ollie. It won't fix them. Staying away from your dad's restaurant will not help."

Ollie sighed. "Neither does keeping a bed."

"Because the bed hurts, and it needs to hurt to heal," I reminded him over the speaker calling final boarding for his flight. "You told me that. Yet here you are, running so that you feel nothing."

"Yes," he agreed as I clutched his shirt harder. We were moments away from him turning away and we both knew it. "I don't want to hurt anymore, Sloan. I don't want to feel anything anymore. I need to go."

Tears erupted from my eyes. My head shook no. "Ollie, don't! I more than like you. I love you." My heart was now on my sleeve. "Don't leave me. Don't go. I love you."

Glossy, staggering eyes finally met mine. The last boarding call sounded off again above the bustling airport. His hand lifted to push my rogue bangs behind my ear and out of my face. Then to the back of my head, where he nuzzled it forward to press his lips to my forehead. I could hear and feel him choking back a sob. But saying nothing back, Ollie released his lips from my skin and his hand from my hair, turning away from me to hand off his ticket to the gate agent. I watched his back until he faded from my line of sight as I stood there and broke down.

With no goodbye, and no returned I love you, he left me.