by Mia Kayla
“What I will reveal shortly will come as a shock to you, but what isn’t a shock is how much Hawke loved both of you. He cared deeply for you. As you know, he didn’t have any family left other than the band members”—he nodded toward Tilton—“you”—then toward me—“and you, Mrs. Stanton.”
I swiped at my eyes, unable to control my emotions. How heartbreaking to find out that, even after all these years, Hawke had still had very few close friends. Just hearing the lawyer state that Hawke had considered us his closest family put me over the edge.
“I’m just going to get through this.” He cleared his throat. “Hawke Calvin’s estate has been split between Tilton Mace, Grace Stanton, and you, Mrs. Samantha Stanton.”
A gasp escaped me.
“This is a lot to take in.” He pulled out six envelopes from his desk. “Hawke is currently worth one hundred twenty-three million dollars. This does not include the royalties that will continually pay out.”
I cupped my mouth as my vision blurred with more tears.
I didn’t want his money. I wanted him alive and well and in the flesh. I wanted things that would never happen. I wanted things money couldn’t buy.
“He left each of you a letter and one for Grace to be opened when she’s eighteen. In the other sealed envelopes are the trust agreements.”
I wanted to cover my ears and not hear a word, pretend like this wasn’t happening, pretend like he wasn’t dead so that I could apologize over and over again for the last things I’d said to him.
“We’ll need you to sign some paperwork, but I know this is a lot to handle for today.” Mr. Bartlett stood and placed three envelopes in front of me on the desk, and then he handed Tilton his envelopes.
One gentle hand was placed on my shoulder as I cowered into myself.
“I’m sorry. Know that he loved you very much.” Mr. Bartlett nodded toward Tilton one more time, giving him a sympathetic look, and then left.
All I could hear in my head were the words I’d last said to Hawke. All I could see was his face, full of regret, when I’d spit out my hateful words. All I could taste was the salt from my own tears.
“You’re going to be okay.” Tilton’s jaw locked, as though he were using all his energy not to show any emotion, trying to stay steady. “You’re going to be okay because that’s what Hawke would want for you.”
He extended one large palm, and I sucked back my tears. When I was ready, I blew out one shallow breath, picked up my envelopes, and placed my free hand in Tilton’s.
We walked out, hand in hand, using each other for support. We were silent on the way down. I was sure thoughts of Hawke were raining in his head, as they were in mine.
When we exited the revolving doors, Tilton initiated one final hug. When he pulled back, his eyes were hopeful. “Can I see her?” There was a quiver in his voice, and I almost broke down again. “He says she looks just like him.”
My face crumbled, and I nodded. “She does. She’s beautiful,” I whispered. “Of course you can see her.”
Then, I watched as he walked away, his massive body almost comically huge as he strode down the busy sidewalk. My hands gripped the envelopes as I stepped into my car and locked myself in.
I stared in front of me, seeing nothing. I couldn’t move. It was difficult to even concentrate on my next breath.
My shaky hands held the letter Hawke had left me, and I sat there for a long time.
Who knew how much time had passed?
When I’d exited the building, it had been daylight. Now, my stomach was grumbling as I took in the sun setting in front of me. I needed to do this before I went home to my husband and child. I needed to read this letter and put this behind me.
One breath.
One exhale.
Josh.
I needed to snap out of this sadness and be there for Josh.
It hurt to even move but I reached in my purse and texted my husband.
Don’t worry. I’m just settling some stuff, and I’ll be back home.
When I got home, that would be another bomb I would have to drop. We’d just become instant millionaires because of the death of someone Josh hadn’t cared too much for.
My eyes focused on the white envelope. In the next second, I closed my eyes, and like Josh had taught me to do, I exhaled. Then, I opened the letter, and a sudden wave of emotion hit me, so hard that I clenched my jaw.
Seeing his handwriting, so signature to Hawke, reminded me of many years ago when all I had wanted was an autograph. My life and his life had been so carefree, and now, we were connected in a way that would bind us together for eternity.
Sunshine, my only Sunshine,
I write when I get emotional, when I feel like things are getting to be too much to handle and I can’t check out.
I saw you today with a little girl, and I knew she was mine before I even asked you. It’s the most beautiful thing—to see my face fused with the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.
In another life, another time, I would have been the man for you. In our lives together, I wouldn’t have been a rock star. I would have been a boy in love with a girl. Simple and sweet and so fucking beautiful. Just you and me against the world.
There were so many times I just wanted to stop. Run away from everything and take you with me. I should have. I wish I had.
I’m not mad at you, Sunshine. I know you did what you had to do, trying to protect our baby girl, and I get it.
In the darkness…through the pain, through the times when I was high as a kite, and I didn’t know what was real…the one thing that I knew was real was you and me in Europe. In my bed. In my arms. In my life.
You’re probably wondering if I ever loved you. I said it so often, but I did things to hurt you. For that, I’m sorry. But, know this—I’ve never loved anyone more, Sunshine. You can question everything—why I acted the way I did, why I did the things I did—but know that I never loved any human being more than I loved you. You were my sunshine through the roar of chaos around me, through the pain that my mother caused me. You were constantly that voice in my head that told me to do better, and I’m so fucking sorry that I couldn’t pull through this time.
Don’t cry for me. In my short life, I’ve lived on overdrive. I’ve accomplished more than I ever thought I would. But the one accomplishment I made and one that will remain untainted forever is that little girl of ours. So, don’t cry, Sunshine. I want you to live and teach our Gracie how to fly.
I know what you’re thinking, but if you ever cared for me like I think you did, you’ll let me do this. You’ll take this money, and you’ll do good with it. You’ll take care of the only things that ever mattered to me—you and our child. You’ll fulfill your dreams and your husband’s too, because I’m forever grateful for him. To do the things that I fell short on, to provide you with what I never could…to take care of our baby and raise her like she were his own, like she should be raised.
It’s okay on this end. Wherever I am, I see light, not darkness. I feel calm, not pain. For once, I’m sure it’s silent, but I revel in the silence where all I think about is you and our baby. Your light, your laugh, your love are all I see.
I love you for eternity, Samantha Clarke. And you will forever be my Sunshine.
Chapter 17
Grazing cattle, stunted trees, and endless yellow canola flowers outlined the road. As we drove farther down the country road, small farmhouses appeared. I stuck my head out the window, feeling the wind feather through my hair and the sun prickle my skin.
It had been months since I’d talked to the lawyer, and still, the fact that Hawke was dead had never sunk in. Maybe I was in denial, or maybe I wanted to believe it wasn’t true.
The drive from Chicago to Wisconsin took four hours.
Hawke had been buried by his mother at Colossal Cemetery in Madison, Wisconsin. I hadn’t been there at his actual burial, and I hadn’t visited him. Every day though, I woke up with an ache in my stomach and a pain in m
y heart. And I knew I needed closure. I needed to let go of the way we’d left things the last time I saw him.
A deep breath escaped me when Josh pulled into the long winding road that led into the immense cemetery. The lawyer had given me specific directions on how to get to his gravesite though I didn’t need to know. In the vast horizon, a stone angel stood. I knew it was his. Not by the description given to me by the lawyer, but the array of flowers lying on top of the headstone and at the angel’s feet.
Josh halted the car and shifted into park. In that second, a cold sweat crept up my back, and a shiver ran through my body. I didn’t know if I was ready for this, ready to see him, or ready to say good-bye. Seeing his gravesite would only confirm that he was truly gone and not roaming the world on tour.
Josh’s voice broke through the silence. “Princess?” When I peered up at him, he reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers. One touch. His touch. “Do me a favor.”
“Okay,” I said, my eyes widening.
“Exhale.”
And I did.
I blew out one long breath, exhaling all my hesitation away.
Then, he brought my hand to his lips. “Go. I’ll wait for you right here.”
I nodded, kissed his lips, and slipped out the door.
My purse hit my hip as I walked, the rustle of the wind blowing through my hair. The birds chirped in the background as I approached, and I took in the massive amount of roses and daisies and mums lying at the angel’s feet.
Even in his death, Hawke was adored. Envelopes and papers were scattered along the edges of his tombstone.
Hawke Matthew Calvin
Life is a song. Sing it loud.
Heaviness initiated in my chest, and I sucked in a breath. My feet padded through the grass, inching toward the tombstone. I crouched down and then dropped to my knees.
My fingertips brushed against the marble. “Hey.” Warmth formed behind my eyes, intense emotions bubbling to the surface. “I know you said you’re not mad at me.” I blew out another breath, trying to formulate my next words. “But I’m mad at myself.” A single tear fell down my cheek. “I’m sorry for never telling you.”
I blew out another breath.
“I’m sorry I said hateful things the last time I saw you.” I swallowed.
I focused on his name etched on the gray marble.
“It’s hard to believe you’re not here anymore, not out and about, singing to your many adoring fans.”
More tears. More sorrow.
“Tilton is hurting. We all are.” I paused, not knowing what to say next.
Then, I decided to tell him all the good things. “I haven’t touched the money yet. I didn’t know what to do with it, how to honor your legacy, but Tilton is teaming up with a foundation called Cooking for Therapy.”
When Tilton had approached me with the idea, I had jumped on board. Drugs had plagued my loved ones for as long as I could remember. And the idea of helping recovering addicts reverse the damage from their drug and alcohol use by cooking made it seem as though everything that had happened in my life would not be in vain. It had given me a new purpose.
“I just wish you could see it—Tilton’s vision coming to life.”
I sat Indian-style, running my fingers through the grass.
A few minutes of silence passed before I decided to talk about Gracie. “She’s stunning, Hawke. Random strangers will come up to me and tell me she should model.” I laughed. “And you know what? She knows it, too. She’s cheeky and hardheaded but insanely talented…just like you.”
I recalled their similarities. Too many to count, but he needed to hear them. “In certain light, when she’s lying in her bed and she’s sleeping, she’s your twin. It’s the dirty-blonde in her hair and in the greenest of green in her eyes that she’s yours.”
I clenched my jaw and pure emotion tore through me. The soreness in my chest heightened, spreading to my lungs, and more tears fell. “You know”—I swallowed—“she loves to sing. She has the most beautiful voice. It’s angelic and powerful, just like her personality. She gets that from you because God knows Josh and I can’t belt out a tune.”
I paused, willing myself not to cry anymore. Too many tears had been shed.
“Thank you for her, Hawke. Thank you for this beautiful life you were able to give me. I know the circumstances were not ideal, but without you, without that night, there wouldn’t be Gracie. And, for that, I’m forever grateful.” My lips quivered with emotion. “I haven’t opened the letter you gave her. I know she’ll get it when she’s eighteen, but before then, I’m going to tell her everything about you—when she’s older and she can understand.”
I started to choke on my own tears again. “I’m just so sorry…sorry that it took death to get us here, y’know? But she’s going to know you, I promise.”
I opened my purse, plucked out a picture of Gracie, and placed it on the tombstone. “I’ll be back, and sometime in the future, I’ll bring her.” I kissed my hand and pressed it against his name.
Hawke Matthew Calvin
Life is a song. Sing it loud.
And Hawke had done that until his very end.
As I walked to the car, there was a lightness in my step. The ache in my chest was still present. I knew from experience that it would never truly go away, but I prayed it would dull eventually.
Josh was leaning against the passenger door, his ankles crossed. He’d been waiting for me all this time. When I approached, he held out a hand and pulled me into him, bringing me into the warmest embrace.
This was Josh. My Josh. The definition of love.
I basked in his embrace, and my whole body relaxed.
“You okay?” he whispered.
I nodded into his chest, squeezing him tighter. “Yeah.” And I was.
Just like my mother’s death, I knew it would take time to fully heal, but this had been a good step.
“I just want to go home and see Gracie.”
He pulled back and smiled. “Then, let’s go home, my beautiful girl.” His words brought me back to many years ago when we had talked at the bar after his birthday. That time seemed like eons ago.
The drive back to Illinois flew by.
I had fallen asleep in the car, holding Josh’s hand. When I awoke, the sun was beginning to set in front of us and I noticed we weren’t taking our regular route to Chloe’s.
“Where are we going? We’re picking up Gracie at Chloe’s place, right?”
“She’s meeting us somewhere,” he said vaguely.
I straightened in my seat to see houses on both sides of us, the orange of the light brightening the manicured landscape. We turned into a subdivision, and I quirked an eyebrow, studying Josh’s stoic face. We were in our town but not in the vicinity of our apartment.
“Where is Chloe meeting us? At our apartment?”
“No. Somewhere else,” he answered. Then, two dimples emerged on his cheeks.
This man and his sly ways. I swore, he was the king of surprises.
“Close your eyes,” he said with a grin.
“What?” I did the opposite and only widened them.
“Why are you always asking questions?” he asked, both dimples popping on his cheeks. “Close your damn eyes, Princess. I’m trying to surprise you.”
“Fine.” Arms crossed over my chest but with a smile on my face, I did what I had been told.
When the car stopped, my foot jittered against the floor, and my hands wrung together in my lap. “You know I hate surprises.”
“Liar! You just hate the anticipation of surprises.” The door opened. “Sam, keep those eyes shut.”
“They’re shut! They’re shut.”
The warm breeze from the summer night hit my face as he opened my door. “Princess…” His voice softened with reverence, and just by his tone, I knew this gift—whatever it was—made him nervous. It was big.
He reached for my hand and pulled me to stand from the car.
“Can I op
en my eyes now?”
“Nope. Not yet.” He flattened his hand against mine, feeling the inside of my palm. “What do you remember from the first time you saw me?”
I laughed. “Are we really having this conversation now?”
My heels dipped into the grass as he led me forward. “Yes, now. Tell me, what did you notice about me first?”
“Your smile.”
I remembered that day so vividly. His dark chocolate eyes, the wave in his hair, and his boyish good looks. But Josh’s smile was his signature—two dimples, pure happiness, no holding back. When he smiled, there was no way you couldn’t.
“What do you remember about me?” I asked.
“Your hands,” he said tenderly.
I shook my head, amused. “Yeah, I remember.” The butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach as I recalled the memory. I lowered my voice into a manly Josh tone. “‘You can tell a women’s shoe size by the size of her hand.’”
“I remember everything about you that day,” he said softly, turning my heart to mush. “Your hair was half up in a ponytail. You were wearing jeans and a bright aqua T-shirt with your Converse. When I saw you from across the room, I had to touch you to know you were real.”
I sensed his smile through the darkness.
When I felt my hand getting tugged to the ground, I opened my eyes. His eyes twinkled against the sun setting in front of us. If I could snap a picture, it would look like a perfect proposal.
Josh knelt on the grass and right beside him was a shoebox. He opened the box, and in it were two glass slippers, one with a key.
“What’s this?” I bit my thumbnail, practically hopping on both feet.
“The key to our house, from your Prince Charming.”
His smile was blinding. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He stood and placed the key in my hand, and then he framed my shoulders and turned me around.
My free hand flew to my lips as my eyes took in the quaint house in front of us. A ranch-style home that I had passed multiple times, admiring its character. The shutters were light gray, a pretty contrast to the white siding. A wide porch wrapped around the front, and rose bushes and lilies outlined the walkway.