"e;I wanted to see if you were real."e;"e;Four words. He said them like he'd been carrying them across a state."e;For nineteen months, Maren Leath wrote letters to a stranger in a cell under a name that wasn't hers. Then she stopped. No warning. No goodbye. Just silence she called kindness because the truth was too large to put in an envelope.Three years later, she's hiding in a converted motel room on the Oregon coast, cleaning rooms for her aunt, counting tiles in a life so small no one could find her in it.Until the morning a man walks into the lot with a duffel bag and handwriting she'd recognize anywhere.Rhodin Voss served eighteen months for breaking the wrong man to protect someone he loved. He survived it on sixty-three letters from a woman who signed her name Wren. Now he's standing in her parking lot, and she's pretending not to know him, and he's pretending to let her.But the town is small. The walls are thin. And the prosecutor's office still has a file with both their names in it.Some letters get answered. Some get carried. And some are kept folded in a drawer for three years because sending them would mean admitting you fell in love with a man you were never supposed to know.Maren has been hiding the last letter she ever wrote him.She doesn't know yet that he's been carrying one of his own.