Twelve books into my 52 book challenge for the year and I got the random urge to write this chapter which I actually formulated like a month ago a least. I hope it's okay.

Chapter 14

Steph's POV

I'd had a lot of practice over the last few months at keeping my mind blank. Through sheer force of will I'd managed to not think about all the things that plagued me in my sleep and lurked in the darkest recesses of my mind when I was awake. They were always there in the periphery, but I was very good at ignoring them now. Denying them. The whole process had become second nature, diligently thinking of other things so as not to allow the opportunity for the dark, depressing thoughts to enter my mind. For some reason, though, it wasn't working today. It seemed the more I tried to focus on the task at hand – planning out the next part of my day in my head – the more my thoughts drifted back to my front door and that envelope slipping through the gap at the bottom.

At first I was angry that he was once again attempting to establish contact despite the many times I'd informed him that I was done with Rangeman and his men, that I just wanted to move on and live my life away from all the reminders of the past. His very presence on my little block of land felt like stab in the gut. And then there was the fact that he had been mere feet from me, standing on the porch with nothing but a slab of wood separating us.

I saw the envelope appear and heard the footsteps retreating; it was like a small victory when I realised who it was. He was finally getting the message that I needed this space to survive. Now he just needed to let his men know the same and I might actually be able to move on with my life. But at the same time it was like some small part of my heart, already broken away and floating freely in my chest cavity with no connection to the rest of me, had been taken away. I never knew that one small action could be at once so relieving and saddening. I'd wanted them to leave me alone so desperately, but now that it had apparently finally happened I felt like an even bigger part of me was missing.

I didn't know what to do about that, or if I even wanted to do anything about it, so I pushed it from my mind and continued with the day I had planned. Errands. And lots of them.

Heading to the hardware store across town for paint supplies to redo m bedroom - which was currently a horrible shade of yellow that I was sick of looking at – my carefully distracted thoughts were pulled again and again to the two envelopes occupying the sideboard drawer in my entrance way (which could also use a coat of paint, now that I thought of it). Today's was unusually rigid, hard and heavy. It was clearly more than just a note. And it had been hand delivered with no postal markings or even Rangeman security approval stamps. Just my name scrawled messily on the front. I could only assume that it came directly from Tanks office to my door without any outside interference.

The same could not be said for the other, which was covered in addresses, postal markings, Rangeman security stamps and a whole lot more. But it too had been hand delivered, or it would have had even more markings.

The reminder of that envelope's existence made me think of Ranger and all that he'd meant to me. Still meant to me even now. Though I tried to bury the thoughts, like I always did to avoid the agony and longing they brought with them, it was impossible today. My emotions were too raw. My being too sleep deprived. I had no choice but to let them play out in my head, like a photo reel of every significant moment I'd had with my love.

To hear Ranger tell the tale of our relationship, we'd been destined to be together from the start. And this was from a man who did not believe in fate.

Six months after we first met, Ranger was called 'into the wind' for a number of weeks. I hadn't really concerned myself with the occurrence at the time – apart from spending countless hours forming ridiculous theories about what he could possibly be doing - because we weren't an item. Ranger and the Bombshell Bounty Hunter was not a thing. In fact, I knew barely anything about him other than the fact that he was simultaneously scary, and sexy, as hell. But according to the Man of Mystery himself, a significant event in the progression of our relationship occurred while he was away.

He'd been in Paris following a lead on a guy for another guy (his explanation, not mine) and wound up in a high end shopping district. While waiting for the guy to emerge from the tailor's he was supposedly holed up in across the street, Ranger had entered a jewellers and was absently browsing while keeping one eye on the shop window for any sign of the guy. His eyes caught on a white gold band with a deep blue sapphire set into it, and immediately thought of me.

That was the end of that, Ranger had told me. Money as exchanged and the ring was shipped off to Rangeman to wait.

Six years later – just five months after that first date at Amicci Milano – Ranger got down on one knee and presented the ring to me as an offering, and a question, and a promise. A promise that he'd always be there for me.

He broke his promise eleven months later. Seven and a half months before we were supposed to be joined in holy matrimony. I would never be known as Mrs. Manoso. Because he abandoned me.

Thinking of the wedding that never happened brought me full circle back to the envelope that had been placed in my mailbox by Rangeman personnel a week and a half ago. I knew what was probably inside it, but had not yet been able to bring myself to open it. If I did, it would be like confirming Ranger's death all over again. Confirming that the life we'd planned together would never happen.

I couldn't do that.

Two Weeks Ago

I sat cross legged on the small rug I'd laid out in the shade of the majestic weeping willow that over shadowed the Manoso plot. It was serene, well maintained and exactly the kind of place Ranger would have wanted for himself. The hush that surrounded me now, sitting beside my fiancé's grave, reminded me so much of the man himself that I almost couldn't bear it. It brought to mind all those silent car trips when he'd gently brushed my hands away from the radio buttons. The moments he'd entered the Rangeman control room and all activity had halted as the men turned their attention to the boss, his tension palpable, even across the room. The times he'd crept into my room in the middle of the night to watch me watching him while I pretended to sleep, both not daring to move or make a sound lest we break the spell. The long minutes he'd stared into my eyes, communicating all the love and desire he'd felt for me with nothing more than a look.

It felt like it felt when I was with him. But also not.

I was acutely aware of my solitude. The longing that filled my body at a cellular level would never be fulfilled again. That day I felt it more strongly than most, because it was the day before the day I was supposed to marry him. The man that rested six feet below the grass I sat on.

I stared at the white marble headstone that his parents had picked out, on top of which I had laid our wedding rings along with my engagement ring. The rings we would never wear and the ring I wore for only a few months all lined up neatly, like soldiers in formation. I'd taken engagement ring off around the same time I moved and changed jobs, convinced that a clean slate, with no reminders of Ranger would help me move on. I'd locked the three rings in the safe in my bedroom with the one shirt of Ranger's I'd allowed myself to bring. And there they had stayed until Monday morning when I turned the page in my diary and saw all the scrawled appointments I'd had to cancel. Hair, nails, caterers, restaurants.

I'd immediately called work to tell them that I would not be in all week and retrieved the rings and shirt from the safe. This was a time I was meant to be spending with my soon-to-be husband in preparation of our special day. I would allow myself this week to grieve anew and feel close to Ranger once more.

And that is how I came to be here in the cemetery on the morning of the day before my would-be wedding day. I'd just taken a match to the candle that had been left by the stone reminder of Ranger's existence in the world when my phone began ringing, obnoxiously loud in the silent garden. Digging through my bag, I pulled it out and answered it before I could earn the glares of other mourners nearby.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Good morning, Ms. Plum," an annoyingly chipper voice replied. "I'm calling from Luxury Spas. Your fiancé has organised a spa day for you in preparation of your wedding this weekend, however, it appears you've had a change of address that we were not informed of. We have a limousine at your previous residence ready to pick you up. If you could just give us your new address we'll send it right over and get your day of pampering started."

It took me a moment to understand what she was saying. And a few seconds more to comprehend the implications, by which time she'd finished speaking and was waiting for my reply. My laboured breathing prevented such an occurrence, however and I simply hung up.

The phone was still in my hands as I stared bleary eyes at Rangers name, engraved so elegantly into the marble, almost as hard as his chest had been. I didn't understand how this could have happened, how Tank could have missed something like this when tending to all the wedding bookings that Ranger had made. Unless he'd meant it a surprise. A present that only he knew about.

Canned ringing emitted from the device in my grasp before I could think to turn it off.

"Hello," I said flatly this time, my eyes trained on the headstone as if I could somehow communicate with Ranger through it.

"Ms. Plum," the woman began. "I do apologise, it seems we were cut off. As I was saying, we just need your current address and we can have the limo to your door in no time."

"He's dead," I whispered.

There was a short pause from the woman before she asked, "What was that, sorry?"

I cleared my voice and tried again in a louder voice. "My fiancé is d-ead. He died."

Long seconds ticked by and I almost felt sorry for the woman. This can't have been a normal reaction. "Oh," she finally uttered, weakly. "I-I am so sorry. I didn't know… He… Mr. Manoso booked this spa day for you months ago and-."

I interrupted her, surprised by how flat my tone sounded. "He died months ago."

Another silence followed my statement during which I thought I could hear the clacking of computer keys over the rushing in my ears. "He… It's… um… The day is fully paid for," the woman explained, flustered now. "I-if you'd like to give your address I can have the limo at your door in no time at all. You can still enjoy this last gift from your fi-."

"No!" I barked, tears suddenly streaming down my face. "No. No. I can't. I'm sorry. He's gone. No. No." I thumb found the hung up button on the screen of its own accord, but I was still chanting through my tears. "No. No. Nononono."

A loud car horn nearby brought my attention back to present day. I was stopped at a stop sign, my cheeks wet from the crying I hadn't realised I'd been doing and a line of three cars were banked up behind me. How long had I been stationary? I had no idea. Taking a moment to get my bearings, I realised I was just a street away from my destination. I sent an apologetic wave to the angry motorists behind me and made my way into the parking lot, turning off the engine and settling my forehead against the steering wheel to calm down with slow deep breaths.

It did not last long, however, as an explosion of sound erupted from directly in front of me and smoke began billowing from under the hood. I scrambled out of the car, dragging my handbag with me and sprinted away. Common sense said it could just be an engine fault. Nothing to worry about. But past experience told me to get the hell out of dodge before it exploded. Which it did. When I was just five car spaces away. I dove between the nearest cars for protection as a wave of heat and sound passed over me.

Minutes passed before I managed to pull myself to my feet an stagger further away through the lot. I was dazed. Vaguely confused. I thought I'd gotten past this part of my life.

Sirens blared and emergency vehicles swept into the lot as I took a seat in front of the hardware store, too shocked to do anything more. People rushed about trying to contain the blaze, the people. I just sat there. Staring at the orange flames. Alone. And then there was a presence beside me. I lifted my gaze, simultaneously expecting and knowing it wouldn't be Ranger. The disappointment when I met the man's gaze had me blubbering and burying my face in his shirt. I couldn't deal with the world right now. I couldn't deal with Ranger's arms not being there to support me and make sure I was okay. I just couldn't.

"It's okay," he whispered, one hand on my head, the other wrapped around my shoulders. But they weren't Ranger's hands. "It'll be okay."

Who's come to comfort Steph?