A Beautiful Wreck (Second Chance #3) Read Free

around at the slobby mess piled across the floor.
    I’m going to die here, in this house, aren’t I? I’ll probably die in this room.
    Everything feels so hard. Even the easiest things. Even getting dressed.
    Great. I’m going to die here, in my pajamas. And my hair will probably be unbrushed.
    I’m drowning in this house. Drowning.
    Cassie rubbed her temples some more before finishing the article. Quickly, she scanned through it again, then hit Send.
    There. Another week done.
    With a groan, she pushed the laptop across her bed and flopped back on the pillows. Leif’s box sat shoved underneath the bed, displacing the carton of love letters to one side. Cassie had tried to go through it. Really, she had. The first time she’d only been able to lift the lid, not really seeing what was in it through blurred vision.
    She’d tried again six months later. But then it had been almost Thanksgiving, Leif’s favorite holiday. She’d only lasted a few seconds before cramming the lid back down.
    But not before she’d discovered the photograph.
    Time to try it again. She looked out the window at the sunlight sifting through the trees outside. Her mind was already bucking against her decision.
    You owe it to him.
    Cassie climbed down to the floor and leaned to look at the box. It stared back at her, taunting her. You think you can do it this time? It seemed to be saying. I don’t think so.
    “Yes, I can freaking do it,” she muttered, and yanked out the box, dragging along a few attached dust bunnies. Her heart pounded. Licking the corner of her lip, she slid a finger under the edge of the lid. She sat for a moment, her muscles stiff.
    Don’t you dare stop now.
    She snatched off the lid and flung it to one side, out of reach. Her heart curled into a ball at the base of her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to breathe. This always happens! Be brave!
    Hands trembling, she reached inside the box. Rough and blue. She pulled out Leif’s favorite baseball cap. Her eyes closed. She bit her lip and clutched the hat close to her heart. After a moment she slid the cap onto her head. It was too big and fell down over her eyes. She spun the bill around to face backwards before reaching into the box again.
    The pads of her fingers felt an edge. Taking a deep breath, she nearly had a coughing fit from the musty smell. Her gaze swept inside. A heavy book, obviously old, with white crease marks eating into the top edges of the thick cover. She gently traced a hand over the brittle surface. Stiff and dusty, the aged black leather carried the marks of being forgotten.
    Cassie drew the book out and onto her lap. It took up nearly half of it. Crinkled, gold letters spelled The Holy Bible.
    She wrinkled her brow. She’d never heard Leif mention he had a bible before. Cautiously, she dragged her finger along the edge, before flipping the cover open to the first page.
    Dedication—1921- To my darling son, Jasper, as you begin your marriage. The thin, curlicue writing had faded to a dull brown.
    The next line down commemorated another day, one year later. A son had been born.
    The next few lines held the names of an additional son, a daughter, and then began marking their marriages, births, and deaths.
    Leif’s birth. Four blank lines underneath to hold the date of his marriage, the births of his children.
    Cassie touched an empty line. His death.
    Her heart squeezed with grief. She felt around on the top of her desk and grabbed a pen. Hesitating over the page a moment, she began to scribble furiously: The most courageous man died on this day saving his brothers. He left a vacuum that cannot be filled.
    Cassie wrote the date, catching her tears with her thumb before they fell on the paper and could smudge the ink. She kissed her fingers and pressed them to his name. Leif, your life affected so many. You were a good man. Not a perfect man. But a good man. You deserved more.
    She started to return the bible to the box, when she saw the