Megan,

I know you. Maybe better than you think. Maybe better than you want me to.

I know the girl who laughed too loud in the back of a truck on some forgotten highway. I know the way your eyes lit up when you talked about the things you’d do someday. And I know—because I’ve always known—that you were never meant to fade into the kind of life that tries to swallow you whole.

So here’s the deal.

Montana. Big skies, clean slates, no past chasing you down. Just the road ahead, and whatever we make of it.

I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m not asking you to change. I’m just asking if there’s a part of you that still wants out. If there is, I’ll be in Montana, waiting.

No pressure. No judgment. Just hoping you’ll take the chance to see what we could be—without the weight of everything behind us.

If you’re ready, you know where to find me.

You always have.