Deαr Emily Rose Shivers,

I'm guessing you're probably feeling confused, betrayed, or maybe, you hate me, which I'm sure you have every right to.

I didn't mean for anything to happen, truthfully I didn't. I'm not the best planner when it comes to these things, and I guess all I wanted was a night out with my girl before I left, but it turned into something more... Which is all on me, I must admit.

I wanted to leave you with something, something to remember me by or even to explain. I don't have that much time left and I'm trying not to waste it but it's hard.

It's hard not taking up every moment I have left to gaze at you in between my sheets. It's hard not dropping everything and just saying "fuck it" and crawling back in bed with you. It's hard not wishing that I wasn't stupid or that I didn't do stupid shit. It's so damn hard.

Looking at you and wishing makes me remember everything. Every-fucking-thing.

Did you know that the first time I met you wasn't in Kindergarten? No, it was at one of my mother's book club parties. The babysitter was sick and I was stuck with my mother, I kept wiggling out of boredom and she kept quietly scolding me. I thought I was gonna die, (even as a 4-year-old, I was still a dick) but then the door rang and your mother walked in, and with her, came you. She was new and wanted to join and you were there holding her hand. Two weird pigtails were in your hair and you wore a sparkly green dress with pink sneakers on. You hid behind your mother's legs so I couldn't get a good look at your face but I saw you. Your mother left after that and I didn't see you again until later but I hoped, I wished, and I prayed. I wanted to see you again, even if I didn't know why.

It seems like my 4-year-old self knew more than I do today.

You probably don't remember that, but I do. And trust me, I think I will for the rest of my life.

I know I'm rambling, but for some reason, I can't help it. I'm trying to say everything and nothing, all at once.

You started to stir and now I really know I'm fucked. You wouldn't make it that easy, would you, Polar Bear?

You always asked me why I gave you that nickname and I always ignored it. But this time I'll tell you.

In the 7th grade when I snuck through your window because my parents were arguing. Although you almost killed me for waking you up at 2 am with your math textbook, you still let me stay. You got me a pillow and a blanket and you allowed me to sleep in your room. Then you woke up early, to your dismay, got me a PopTart — and to a 12-year-old boy, that was the nicest shit that had ever happened to me — and you hugged me before sending me on my way.

You got tough skin, Emmie, but not that tough. So you gained your nickname, Polar Bear.

I know your wishing for me to explain where the hell I am and why I left instead of going through memories, so I will.

I got in some trouble, Polar Bear, and it's deep this time. Almost lead to a lawsuit from the state. Let's just call it, destruction of property, because vandalism sounds a little immature if I do say so. Don't draw shit on City Hall in the midst of a drunken haze, Polar Bear, trust me on this. Don't ask me what I drew, because I'm still trying to remember, but after it happened, I called my uncle, you know the rich but asshole one.

He made me a deal, Emmie. If I go with him and become his protege, he'll never tell my parents or allow this to go on my record. Which is a goddamn relief... but there's a catch (as always with him).

The catch is, Polar Bear, is that I'm cut off from all contact; with you, with my parents, with everyone.

He says he doesn't want me to get distracted, but I think he's just being an asshole. I think that he knows that without anyone, I'll be easier to control.

He promised to call my parents to tell them why I'm gone; I'm not that worried.

I took the deal. I would be crazy not to. The shit I did almost fucked up my entire future. And if I can fix that then I'll be golden.

That's why I'm writing you this letter because I know if I texted you, it probably wouldn't send. He's starting to cut off my shit now.

The morning light's coming and I know after this, I'll have to leave. So I'm trying to drag this on for as long as I can.

But I'm losing, Polar Bear, I'm losing.

Time's a worthy fighter to fight and he's kicking my ass.

The one thing I've ever wanted now is my reach but I can't have you.

And you know what's the most ironic part is out of this? Is out of everyone I tried to convince, I couldn't convince you. You wouldn't let me. No matter how many times I fucked up, you still come around. No matter how many warnings I gave you, you still showed up.

I'm a dick, Polar Bear, so please stop.

Stop trying to please people like me. Stop trying to save people like me; the assholes who don't do shit but hurt you.

Leave.

Leave, Polar Bear.

Get the hell out of this town and never look back.

You don't deserve it here, you deserve better. So much fucking better and it's time for you to see that.

Emily, you have so much potential. Don't waste it making other people happy. Don't waste it, letting other people use you.

I'm working on myself, Polar Bear. Not just for you, but for everyone else as well. I'm trying to save myself so you won't have to.

And if you find someone, Emily, who REALLY wants you, don't fall for it. Give them hell. Make them work for you because that's who you deserve. You deserve someone who lets you go far but is still strong enough to pull you back if you need it.

I can't give you that right now and I pray to God that he's able to give you someone like that. Someone better than me. Someone who won't put his needs in front of yours, who's good, pure and doesn't hurt you.

Don't think because I'm gone that I won't be making sure you're okay. I'll have Cameron check up on you or something, I don't know yet but I'll work it out...

God, you're gorgeous.

I can't stop looking at you. Everything I try to write this damn letter, my mind remembers that you are 5 feet away from me and I can't help it.

You're beautiful.

Don't let anyone tell you that you're not. Because they're fucking liars, they're jealous and why shouldn't they be?

You're angelic, even when you're not trying to be. Even when you're sleeping, you still are.

I know I'm breaking your heart, and for that, I'm sorry. I am. I'm so sorry.

I don't wanna be the villain, I really don't. I don't wanna be that person in your life that lets you down like everyone else, but I guess I have to be.

Please don't write me off as if I'm a bad dream. A bad guy who fucked up everything. Someone who destroyed you. Who hurt you and left.

Please remember what we had. That's my last wish. That's it. I want nothing more.

I love you, Emily Rose Shivers, even if you'll have my head a spike for this. I love you.

I will always love you.

'Til we meet again,
Parker Bowmen.

*****

Hey guys!

This book is finally wrapping itself up into a neat, little bow.

My thank you note will be at the end of the epilogue, which is coming in a few days.

The introduction for my new book will be posted later and so will the book. I really hope you guys check it out.

It seems as Parker wasn't that ready to lose what he wanted...

Anyways, I hope you liked Chapter 29 of The Love That Is Parker Bowmen.

Remember don't forget to vote, comment and add to your library, if you want more!