A/N:I don't have much to say except to thank all of you for continuing to read even after the long break and also for your reviews. They really do mean a lot to me.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter. )

Love,Katie

"What is it, Luke?" I impatiently begged for an answer with earnest eyes. There we were standing at my doorstep with interlocked fingers. I was glancing up pleadingly to his bright blue eyes, but he was trying to cheat my gaze by starring down. He held me in suspense at he breathed deeply in, handing me the papers I knew so well because it was my own artsy penmanship containing my very words about him.

Letting go of his warming hold of my hand, I raised the papers up in his face, shaking them with anger, trying to find the right words to speak. Finally, I raised my voice at him, continuing to wave the notes in fury.

"You really think that you can just get away with reading these? What gives you the impression that I'd just be okay with it, not worrying that what I personally wrote in these letters wouldn't change our relationship by any means? Do you have any sense of knowledge at all to know when you've gone too far, Luke? 'Cause this…This is going way too fa-" His lips tightly pushing up against mine broke off the nonsense that had been mechanically coming out. Pulling away slightly from his lips, I finally locked my eyes with his for the first time that night.

I gave the impression that I was going to speak again, this time to apologize; yet he softly touched his finger to my lips and began to speak himself. "Peyton, look, I know you have a right to be upset, but I knew eventually that I needed to show you. Now that Brooke and I are over, I knew it would be the righ-"

"Wait," I said harshly, cutting him off and ruining the moment. "Eventually?"

How long has he had these for? How long has he known? What if…No. No, it can't be. And no, I won't let him be. Questions began racing through my mind as soon as I heard him utter "eventually." I couldn't believe that he could possibly be…No; I didn't even want to hear myself say it.

"Peyton, that's what I needed to tell you," He began, dealing with my severity patiently, unlike I ever would be able to do. "These letters that you're holding, they aren't one-sided; you know that. Someone has been responding to you, sending you help."

"Don't Luke," I whispered faintly. "Luke…" I knew it was coming, and I was holding my breath until I heard the words spoken from his lips.

"…And these letters are deep, Peyton. They've sent help and inspirations along to the recipient," He continued, placing both palms on my damp face. Damp from the tears that had started to descend down my cheekbones, draining faster from my eyes with each new word spoken.

"Peyton, it's me. I've been receiving your letters and writing you back. I knew it was you from the first note I found when it fell from The Great Gatsby as I was taking it off the shelf. You described my relationship with Brooke, then your problems with privacy because she's been in your room. I knew it was you from your writing; I recognized it from the letters I have kept from last year. I sensed your pain, Peyton, and I wanted to help. I knew you weren't going to listen if I told you straight-forward because you try so hard to be strong, but I want to be here for you. I want you to know that. Do you know that now?"

With a slight nod, I broke down in tears on his shoulder. He held me there, rubbing my back and occasionally kissing my forehead until I looked up at him again. "I know it, Luke. I do."

The following day during free period, I sat at my usual table with a sheet of sketching paper set out in front of me. The sketch so far only portrayed a close-up of Lucas at my doorstep the preceding day. I wasn't nearly finished when I took a moment and looked to the bookshelf next to the table. The book caught my attention immediately. The book that I had so frequently checked for a note and even more recurrently inserted one. The book that held my truths and secrets that now lay uncovered to Lucas.

For old time's sake combined with my stimulating curiosity, I grabbed the book and began to flip through it, cover to cover if I had to. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for, but I was searching for something. Answers, maybe? Or just more questions? Even as I heard the bell sound to get out of class, I remained there still turning over the pages in The Great Gatsby.

There it was. Hidden in the book on page 116. I knew it was him as soon as I read deeper into the faintly highlighted quote. The noted quote read "Can't repeat the past?...Why of course you can."

And next to the quote, written in pencil, was the date he had marked it. 2 weeks ago, I figured out. For two weeks, my answer had been right there in front of me. I had no "secret person" anymore; I had Lucas. Finally, I had Lucas.