I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just did it.
I jumped up and walked quickly over to her, putting my arm around her waist, and taking Bexley’s weight to give her the strength to continue.
Through heartbroken tears and body-wracking sobs, she told everyone about the man who’d always been there, who’d laughed more than he got angry, who loved with his whole heart, and who’d fixed everything that’d ever broken in her life. She told stories about him that made even the hardest man in the room blink rapidly to stop their tears, and she outlined who he’d been in the best way possible.
After that, I took her back to where she’d been sitting and sat down with her on my lap, holding her in place as the service continued.
When she cried, I wiped those tears away.
When she struggled to breathe, I rubbed her back to calm her down.
When she sobbed hard enough to almost fall off my lap, I held her that bit tighter, hoping it would help her get through this.
Piersville would miss Lawrence, and we wouldn’t be the same without him, so it was hard for everyone to say goodbye to him. But what made it worse was when her dad, my grandpa, my father, Hurst Townsend, and I got up to carry his coffin to his final resting place.
Why?
Because she got up, too, and moved to the front of it, balancing it on her right shoulder and hooking her arm over her dad’s neck. Seeing it, the crying got louder in the church, and I felt the tears fall faster down my face.
It was beautiful, but it was heartbreaking, too.
We were slightly off-balance given the height difference, but we made it work without saying a word and walked the coffin carefully out of the church and across the graveyard, with almost the whole town following behind us.
Once there, we moved it onto the straps waiting, and watched as the attendants put them in the right place to lower it into the ground.
Then, we all stood with our hearts in our hands as the priest read out a prayer for him as they began to lower him.
They’d only just started the process when Bexley collapsed onto her knees and screamed, “I can’t let him go. Please, don’t do it! Make him come back, please.”
The last word was her literally begging them, and I couldn’t take it. I wanted to make it happen, but I just didn’t have the power to do it.
Dropping to my knees next to her, I pulled her back onto my lap and rocked her, with her begging still audible through her sobs. Her dad, Kenton, got down beside me and wrapped his arms around us, whispering into his daughter’s hair, trying to help her through it, as her mom, Lorena, moved to my other side to do the same thing.
We were cocooning her, powerless to fix how broken her heart was. It was the worst moment of my life, and that said something.
She still hadn’t settled by the time it was over, so her mom drove us back to their house. The deep growl that came from the big ass dog that’d belonged to her pops stopped me in my tracks as I carried her inside, but I managed to veer around him and go up the stairs, and lay down with her on her bed while the doctor sedated her.
It was the final push of the knife that’d been plunged into my heart seven years ago, fucking sedating her on the day she buried her beloved pops. Neither of them would’ve wanted it, but it had to happen because she was struggling to breathe and her pulse was all over the place.
Years ago, I’d had a childhood crush on her.
Years after that, I’d made the biggest mistake of my life, and it’d been my wake-up call.
Days after that, I decided to join the police and stay in Piersville after I’d graduated from the Police Academy. I’d explained it all to her parents and Pops, and promised that I’d make it all up to her. I’d transformed from the selfish teenager to a man who got his shit in order.
And I’d waited for her to come back.
For seven years.
Now she was here, but she’d lost a piece of her soul. We all knew it—they were just that close.
Five days ago, when he’d died, I’d sworn I’d get her through it.
After today, I didn’t know how, but I’d take anything she threw at me if it helped her recover.
It felt like I’d wanted her my whole life, and that came with doing my best to get her through the hard times, even if it meant staying away. I didn’t want to stay away from her for this one, though, so I was going to do everything I could to help her without hurting her even more.
I knew I could do that. She was my reason for existing.
Chapter Two
Bexley
Two days later…
“Honey, you have to eat,” Mom tried again.
It wasn’t that I was making it happen, I just felt nauseous when I even thought about food. Every part of my body hurt and felt exhausted, and my stomach was part of it.
“I can’t,” I croaked, my voice sounding harsh from all of the crying. The doctor had checked it out this morning and said I’d strained my vocal cords and assured me it would get better with time.
Apparently everything I felt right now would get better with time.
They were lying. The pain in my heart couldn’t possibly get better. How did losing someone you loved more than life ever feel better?
“What about a cracker?” Dad asked as he sat on the coffee table, ignoring the glares coming from Mom.
See, the coffee table was a priceless antique that’d belonged to her great-great-great-grandmother. It’d been lovingly cared for since the day my grandma had given it to her, telling her the story of how it’d been brought across the seas on a ship and tracked over hundreds of miles in a wagon when they’d first come here. So, when my dad sat on it like he was at that moment and the wood creaked, she freaked out.
Before she could lecture him, a knock on the door interrupted, and she got up to answer it.
“She’s going to kick your ass, you know,” I chuckled weakly.
“Logan’s here,” Mom called as she walked back in with him behind her.
Dad only just managed to grab Doyle by the collar, before he could even think about going toward him. I watched all of it out the corner of my eye, but my mind was on the way Mom made it sound like it happened every day instead of it being what it was—weird.
Seeing that I was up and about, a small smile grew on Logan’s mouth until Doyle growled at him, and he shot a glare down at the huge Irish Wolfhound. It was a good look on him, broody and fierce, but that wasn’t what made my heart start beating like a drum band. Oh no, that was the fact he was wearing his Police uniform, and the sleeves were short so I could see the tattoos on his arms.
I wasn’t sure if that was allowed, but who was I to question it when—even to me—it looked so good? I mean, I was the last person who should find the man attractive, but the look was working for me.
Grief—it warps the heart and mind of all who experience it.
“Good to see you in the land of the living,” he greeted, his eyes on me before shifting them to my dad. “How are you holding up, Kenton?”
Not getting up, Dad shook his hand. “My baby girl got up today, so I’m starting the road to healing. But now I’m thinking my dad’s dog has bad blood with you over something, and I’m amused for the first time in over a week. Thanks for that.”
Hearing that just made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. Pops was his dad, but instead of being able to mourn and heal, he’d been looking after and worrying about me. I needed to get my shit together and stop being a wussy.
Feeling tingles on the side of my face, I looked up and saw Logan watching me like he knew what I was thinking. That started a new riot of emotions off inside me.
On one hand, having someone know and understand what I was thinking and why was a nice feeling. It meant I didn’t feel like the head case other people would probably assume I was.
On the other hand, the hurt he’d caused me went so deep that I didn’t know if I found him being inside my head all that comforting. Add onto that th
e guilt I was feeling for my dad and the heartache for Pops…
See, grief totally warped your mind. Who could keep up with a hundred emotions and conflicting thoughts at once?
Turning away from him, I tuned in to what Dad was saying.
“…I didn’t want to do it so soon, but he insisted it be read as quickly as possible after he passed away.”
They were talking about the will.
“Why?” I mean, if I died, I’d want people to go about getting used to life without me and let them get their heads around it.
Death made people greedy, so why would you want them eagerly waiting for what they were getting?
Sighing, Dad said quietly, “Because of you.”
“Me?”
Nodding, he picked up his cup and mumbled into it, “You’ll understand when the lawyer reads it out to us later.”
Feeling slightly nauseous again, I got up and walked back upstairs to my room, intending to have a shower and look like a normal person for it.
All the while, I was stuck in a repetitive cycle of questions.
Why me?
Why so quickly?
And why was Logan here?
What was I going to do?
Three hours later…
Now I had the answer to two of my questions, the first two to be exact.
The will was being read so quickly because Pops had left me his house. The stipulation was that I couldn’t sell it until I was thirty—five years from now—and I had to live in it. If I didn’t do that, the property would remain empty, and no one could enter it apart from me. That would mean it would start to crumble and go to shit with a bow around it.
The house was old and had been one of the first to be built when Piersville was established. It was a large Victorian style property that stood out even now, but had done even more so when it was first completed.
The town was founded by settlers from all corners of the world, who set up homes and sold what they were skilled at making. In my family’s case, that’d been furniture and anything wooden. They were skilled carpenters and furniture makers, and had worked with the other settlers to utilize their trades, too.
Partnerships had been formed throughout the town, and the wares had been sold all over the country. Rumor had it that my family had helped build many of the original homes in the town, but I hadn’t ever checked to see which ones.
Pops’ house was beautiful, with long windows, wooden floors, intricately carved light fixtures, and details that were so intricately done, it was hard to believe they’d been made by hand. He’d modernized it over the years, and it was perfection.
He knew I loved the house and wouldn’t let anything happen to it, so he’d put me over a barrel to move back home instead of returning to my job as an English teacher in Boston.
My question was, why? No, my questions—plural—were all why.
Why would he put those stipulations in the will?
Why did he want me to move back here, knowing why I’d left?
Why had he died?
Why did it feel like life was never going to be the same again?
Why? Why? Why?
And most of all, why wasn’t I as upset about it as I should be?
“I know this all seems unusual, Miss Heath,” the lawyer murmured as he looked up from the papers on his desk. “And, if I’m honest, it is rather unusual, but Mr. Heath was very clear. He discussed the matter with your parents before he wrote the will, and it was agreed they would receive the items they wanted and your dad would inherit the business, but the property and finances were all yours.”
I wanted to throw up on the guy’s beige rug.
“Are you attached to your rug?”
It was a miracle that he understood what I was saying, seeing how it came out of me sounding like I was being strangled. Which, I guess, was technically accurate because my breakfast was now lodged in my throat.
Did PopTarts taste as good coming up as they did when they went down?
I had the answer to that moments later when I moved to get up and run to the bathroom, but all it did was help the end result happen faster.
The answer to the question was: No, they did not. I was also pretty sure I was never eating the blueberry ones again.
It felt like someone was squeezing the life out of me with every heave, and I think the embarrassment and humiliation I was feeling made even more come out of me.
I’d just yacked on my grandad’s lawyer’s rug.
A hand rubbing my back didn’t make me feel any better, either. I was being consoled for ruining this poor man’s floor.
“It’s okay,” the lawyer said gently. “My ex-wife bought it for me, so I’ve got no attachments to it. In fact, I think I’m very grateful to you for ending it like that.”
A surprised chuckle burst out of me as I gulped some oxygen into my lungs.
He waved me off when I made a move to try and clean it up, and pulled out a box of trash bags from a drawer in his desk. “I’ll just roll it up and use these on it.”
So, one of the worst moments of my life ended with my dad and the lawyer carefully rolling up the rug, and then putting a trash bag over either end and wrapping one around the center.
Mom leaned over as they were taping it together. “Honey, we didn’t want to upset you, and whenever we tried to discuss wills with you, you’d disappear into your head. I hate to say it, but the only guarantees in life are death and taxes. You do your taxes every year, it’s a given and the law, so you have to accept now that we’re all going to die eventually.”
If I hadn’t just expelled the contents of my stomach, I’d be doing it now.
“That’s not to say it’s going to happen soon for your dad and me. No, we’re too happy living our lives and loving you, just like your pops did. We have everything we could ever want, and your grandad wanted the same for you, so he left you the house and the money to build your life.”
“But—” I stopped and licked my dry lips. “Why do I have to move back here?”
Leaning forward, she reached for my hand, maintaining eye contact with me the whole time. “Because it’s time. What happened was a huge blow for a young heart, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have reacted the same way if I was in your shoes.” She shot a glare over at Dad, who looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Time goes by, and all of the hurtful and shitty things we go through stick with us, but their power over us fades. Don’t let this continue to control you.”
Squatting down on my other side, Dad squeezed my knee to get my attention on to him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, baby. I thought I was doing something for both of you by giving him money so you could do stuff, but doing it in the way I did was so wrong. The second shit went down, I felt like I’d just stabbed you in the back repeatedly. I can only thank all that’s Holy that you were able to forgive me after it.”
He scooted closer to me, and lower lip wobbled. “I lost my daughter the day it happened. You distanced yourself from all of us, and it was like a wall came up. I might have been able to call you, see you, hug you and enjoy all the beauty of you, but it was never the same. I spent so many nights talking it over with your pops, and it’s one of my biggest regrets in life.”
Inhaling deeply, I exhaled again and weighed everything up. Losing Pops had put a lot into perspective for me, and I needed to admit it.
I’d fucked up. There was no way around it, I’d completely fucked up. I would’ve gone away for college, but maybe I could’ve found a job closer to Piersville after it. Instead, I’d stayed in Boston because of my pride.
Yes, I had a right to be hurt, but I also had the maturity of an adult to let it go way before now.
That’s what I needed to do so that I didn’t waste any more time.
“I’m sorry.” When Dad went to interrupt, I held my hand up. “No, let me get this out because I have to say it.
“I’ve been holding onto the feelings for years, and I’ve wasted so much time. What for? What has it ac
hieved? I didn’t benefit from feeling like that, and I lost out on a lot, so why didn’t I just let it go way before now? In the grand scheme of shit that life throws at you, it wasn’t that bad.
“Would I do the same thing to my kids—I don’t think so, but I can’t say a definitive no to that question. I can say that I was wrong to hold onto it, even if I didn’t bring it up or do anything drastic unless you count hiding for seven years.
“I missed out on time with you guys and Pops, and I don’t want to have any more regrets about things like that. So, now it’s time to put it in the past, and we have to focus on going forward.”
Looking down at the ground, Dad shook his head. “That’s what Pops was trying to do with his will. Bring us back together, and move us forward.”
Reaching out, I shook his shoulder like I was going to knock him off his feet. “And that’s what we’re doing.” Then, looking up at the lawyer who was just making his way back behind his desk, I said apologetically, “And I’ll get you a new rug.”
Bursting out laughing, he looked at the area of his wooden floor that the rug had been in. “I think I prefer it without one. It makes the space more open, and I don’t have to worry about mud and shit on people’s shoes.”
I was nervous about where life was taking me, but I wanted to live it to the max like Pops had, so I had to trust in what he’d set up for us.
Grinning at my parents, I nodded once, my decision made. “Let’s do this shit.”
Chapter Three
Logan
Let me be straight, watching someone being questioned wasn’t like in the movies. You couldn’t usually just ask outright what’d happened or piece it together as easily, it took patience.
And patience really sucked when you wanted to know the answers right then and there, but you weren’t getting them or were being given the wrong ones.
Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills Series Book 6) Page 2