I close my eyes, shame making my cheeks burn.
Is a scholarship worth the lives of your parents?
No. Never.
I should’ve never left.
When I open my eyes again, I know that things between Willow and me are broken, and they might never be the same again.
Even if I break my word to the lawyer, and I spill everything that I’ve been planning. Even if I tell her that I plan to stay, to make it up to her however I can. Even if I destroy my father’s legacy. Even if I explain the true reason that I left, so she could have a better future. Even if I try my best to defend my actions, I know I’ll just be digging a bigger hole for myself.
Her business, her education, her life rests on that scholarship. Who am I to taint that?
So, I stay quiet and listen to my heart breaking.
27
Willow
After Sacha tells me about the day he left, my teen years suddenly make sense. I remember that day, when I’d been riding a high from our kiss. Mom had come home early with tears in her eyes, and she never told me what was wrong.
She’d quit her job, she told me. She and Dad both. It was all going to be okay, she said. That night, I heard her whispering to Dad about some papers. Something about leverage against Mr. Black. I thought I heard Sacha’s name, but I wasn’t sure.
It didn’t make sense…until now. That leverage was probably whatever she’d threatened him with. It wasn’t enough, though, because Alastair Black still nearly ran them out of town.
After he fired them, he threw dirt in their faces and made sure no one hired them. Nasty rumors about my mother being untrustworthy and my father being a thief started circling, and no one dared go against the Blacks. My parents—and by extension, Max and me—became lepers.
I never heard from Sacha again, until I walked through the door and saw him sitting in my father’s old recliner.
“I felt like I had to leave, Willow,” Sacha says. His hand hangs beside mine as we stand in the woods, birds calling out songs above our heads.
It sounds too happy for how I feel. The leaves rustle softly, and the noise almost makes me angry. The world is still turning. Nothing has changed.
But everything is different.
I start walking farther into the woods, and Sacha moves with me.
“Willow?” Sacha’s voice is strangled. “He threatened us both. He was going to ruin your life.”
He wants me to speak, but I don’t know what to say. I take a deep breath. “And you believed that by leaving, he wouldn’t? He still tore my family apart.”
“But he didn’t touch you.”
“Accusing my parents of being liars and thieves does affect me, Sacha. But you wouldn’t know he did that, because you weren’t even here.” My tone is harsh. Harsher than I intended.
I can’t help it. Anger flares inside me. Sacha could have stayed. He could have fought. What did he accomplish by leaving? His father still did his best to ruin our lives.
We walk a few more steps, and the dilapidated remains of our treehouse come into view. My heart squeezes and I blink away tears that threaten to spill onto my cheeks.
“You didn’t tell us anything. Even Max didn’t know that you’d left until you started talking to him again. It hurt, Sacha.”
“I know.”
“I thought you left because of me.” This time, tears do fall from my eyes. I brush them away angrily.
“I did.” His voice trembles. “I left because I had to save you, Willow. From him. From me. You deserved a better future.”
A sob stays stuck somewhere in my throat. I can’t look at Sacha. I stare at the rotten planks of wood nestled in the tree branches, feeling my heart break all over again.
“You didn’t save me from anything. He still fired them. Everything fell apart. You left for nothing.”
“Not for nothing, Willow. I thought…” he trails off, raking his hand through his hair in that familiar anxious motion.
The past is thick in the air. It swirls around us, feeding our pain and choking our words.
“I’m sorry.”
“You could have told the truth. You could have stayed and fought.”
“It would have been worse. The police chief was one of his clients. I’d seen him get out of lots of things, Willow. Every powerful person in this town has money in my father’s brokerage.”
My gut twists, because there’s truth to his words. Even my own business almost failed. It was only because people care so much about their fucking fairytale weddings—and I happen to be exceptional at planning them—that I was able to make it work.
Despite the Blacks. Despite my last name. Despite who my parents were.
“I know I can never bring your parents back, Willow. I know everything went to shit.”
“But?” I glance at him, arching an eyebrow.
“But trust me when I say that I did it because I thought it would be best for you. And now…” He inhales deeply. “Now, I’m trying my best to make things right.”
The words feel empty. I hurt so much, for so long. My grief eviscerated me for years.
But I lived through it. I pushed through. I never had anyone to blame for it…
…until now.
Finally, I lift my eyes up to Sacha. His face is wracked with pain, but I can barely see through my own suffering to recognize his.
All I know is that he left. Whether he had to or not, he left without telling us anything. He had all the evidence to bring his father down and clear my parents’ names, but he fucking left.
Instead of fighting. Instead of telling the truth. Instead of being there to support my family and me.
He’s trying to make things right? It’s too little, too fucking late. How can he possibly make things right now?
I want to scream at him. Shout. Hit his chest. Pull his hair. Tell him how much it hurt when he left, but I don’t do anything. I just shift my gaze back to the moss on the ground and take a trembling breath.
“I’m sorry,” Sacha says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
I want it to be enough. I want to accept his apology and move on, but how can I? How can I move on from something like that?
It wasn’t his fault that his father was an abusive asshole. It wasn’t his fault that he comes from the richest family in the county, and that Alastair Black was able to control my parents’ livelihoods like he did. It wasn’t Sacha’s fault that he was told to leave and never come back.
But deep down, I can’t get over the fact that he did leave. He didn’t fight. He didn’t at least try.
I loved him with all my heart, and he left without saying goodbye.
How is that protecting me? How is that supposed to make any sense?
When Sacha slides his hand around my waist, I flinch away. His eyes widen as he takes a step back, and the distance between us grows to a chasm again. The wedge that had been between us when he arrived reappears, and I know I put it there.
“I’m sorry, Willow. I should have said something. I shouldn’t have left.”
“But you did.”
“I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
All my familiar fears come rushing back up. I opened up to Sacha since he came back, but what if things get tough? Will he leave again?
He inherited his father’s business. Does that mean he holds the power in town now? Will he turn into the same man he hated?
I’m not sure I can handle being abandoned again. Because whether he admits it or not, that’s what he did. He abandoned me. He abandoned Max. He abandoned my parents when he knew they were in trouble, and when he had all the cards to make a difference.
And in a way, I’ve always felt like my parents abandoned me, too.
I know it’s not logical. I know they died in a tragic accident, and there’s nothing anyone could have done to stop it.
Except…what if there was? What if Sacha had stood up and spoken out? What if he’d fought for my family
instead of leaving?
He was one of the only people who knew the truth, and he would have had some power to change things.
Instead, he walked away. He saved himself, all the while convincing himself he was doing it for me.
I’m not buying it.
A boulder lodges itself in my throat, and my voice is gone. I stare into Sacha’s eyes, seeing the pain and suffering he’s been carrying with him. It’s not enough to see that, though. It doesn’t take my pain away to know that he’s hurting, too.
There’s a crushing weight on my chest, and I’m afraid I might say something I regret. But when I look at Sacha, I don’t see the warm arms and comforting chest I’ve come to love.
All I see is the man who turned his back on me.
The man who, ten years later, still won’t speak up about his father. Instead of saying something, all he does is refuses to attend the funeral. He protects himself.
Is that the kind of man I want to be with?
I shake my head, and Sacha seems to understand what I mean, even though I haven’t said a word.
“Willow…” His voice is thin. His jaw ticks. He swallows thickly as his eyes water, reaching out to me.
But I can’t take his hands. I can’t wrap my arms around him and pretend everything is okay, when I know that being with him would kill me inside.
“I’m sorry, Sacha,” I whisper, as tears pour down my face. “I’m sorry.”
My heels dig into the soft earth as I try to hurry back toward the road. I curse my footwear choice again, hiccupping as my vision blurs. I hobble as fast as I can until I reach the asphalt, and then I rip off my shoes and sprint barefoot toward my house.
My house. The home I bought for myself. With the money I earned from the business I built. The one place where I feel safe, where I know no one will leave me. As soon as I burst through the front door, a sob shakes my body and I collapse onto the nearest couch, crying into a pillow.
Heartbreak feels worse the second time over. The same man has broken my heart all over again, and I let him do it. I opened myself up to him and let him in again, lying to myself when I told myself he’d changed.
He’s the same scared boy who left Woodvale all those years ago.
He’ll leave again. I know it already.
28
Sacha
Watching Willow leave is more painful than it was when I was the one to walk away all those years ago. As she disappears through the trees, and I’m left surrounded by the soft sounds of the forest, my heart sinks.
In that moment, I understand.
I understand how she felt when I left without an explanation. I understand how angry she must have been. How confused. How hurt.
It’s how I feel right now. I’m left standing here, in the shadow of one of the happiest places of my life, alone and without an explanation.
Part of me hates it, but part of me gets it. It’s exactly what I did to her.
How can I expect her to embrace me and accept me after a bombshell like that? Maybe I could have spoken out about my father. Maybe I could have exposed him. Maybe things would be different.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
But I didn’t, and they’re not.
Pain shatters through my ribcage as I stand there, knowing I may have lost her for good. Who am I kidding? I might’ve never had Willow to begin with.
The past few weeks have just been a tease. A hint of everything I’ve been missing, and everything I don’t deserve to have. Coming back here and realizing what I’ve lost is my penance for not having the courage to speak out earlier.
Walking slowly, I make my way back into town. The pathway spits me out beside the church, where I can hear a hymn being sung inside.
Something shifts inside me then. Hearing all those people singing for my father. Celebrating his life. Talking about what a gift he was to our community. What a great man he was.
What a fucking fraud. A criminal. A monster.
I stand at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the big, arched doors, and I’ve had enough. I can’t stand here in silence any longer. I was too much of a coward to speak up when he was alive, but I won’t be quiet anymore.
Determination pushes me forward. I take the steps one at a time, taking slow, measured paces toward the doors. There’s no rush in my movements, but there’s an unstoppable force urging me ahead. I feel like a wall of water, rolling toward the church doors as I prepare to break myself against them.
When I enter, a few heads turn toward me.
I pause.
My father’s casket is displayed, with a smiling picture of him overlooking the entire congregation. He looks almost benevolent.
What a fucking joke.
There should be a picture of him with his eyes black and his lips curled into a snarl. That would be the real Alastair Black. The real man we were burying in the cold, dark earth.
It doesn’t matter anymore.
The man is dead.
Gone.
I tear my eyes away from his face and scan the assembled people.
I find my mother’s head in the front row, bowed down to her chest. I can see the grief in the curve of her shoulders, and the brokenness of her spirit. He destroyed her a long time ago, and I’m not sure if or when she’ll recover.
I owe it to her to make things right.
I see the police chief and half the police department. I see businessmen, lawyers, doctors. My father’s clients number the richest people in Woodvale. There are faces I don’t recognize, of course, but things in Woodvale don’t seem to have changed that much. It’s the same old faces with the same old power over the city.
I pause, there, at the back of the church. A couple of people have noticed me, but I stand frozen. What did I burst through the doors to do? To make a speech about who my father really was?
That wouldn’t change anything.
What would change things is dismantling his business and speaking out about our home life. An itching sensation starts at the base of my skull, spreading out between my shoulder blades.
I retreat from the church and pull out my cell phone as soon as I’m outside the doors. Nolan Gallagher answers on the first ring.
“Sacha,” he says. “I’m glad you called.”
“I want to go public. I want to return the assets to his clients and shut it down right now.”
“But, Sacha—”
“Now. Today. It can’t wait.”
I need to have something to show Willow. To show this town. To show my mother. I need to rip down my father’s image and prove to Willow—and myself—that he doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. I need to clear Willow’s parents’ names, their memory, their legacy.
It needs to happen now. It’s the only thing I can do to show Willow that I care.
“That would be a very bad idea,” Nolan finally says, his deep, gravelly voice finally piercing through to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. “How come?”
“Well, for one, my team is still sorting through the decades of accounts and shell companies your father created. It’s a mess, Sacha. The corporation will be liable for millions in back taxes, and we still need to figure out if you or your mother will be personally liable.”
“Isn’t it better to come forward right away? Show good faith?”
“Maybe,” the lawyer answers with a sigh.
“I want it done, Nolan. This week.”
He inhales slowly, letting it out in a long sigh. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
My heart beats a little easier as I hang up the phone, knowing I won’t be living a lie for much longer. I just hope Willow sees what I’m trying to do. That she recognizes that by speaking out about my father and dissolving his business, I’m trying to show her that her family’s name and legacy is important to me. Her future is important to me.
The truth is important to me, and I’m no longer willing to hide.
Finally, my shoulders relax and a soft smi
le spreads over my lips. My car is parked at Willow’s house, so I make my way there on foot. As soon as the big, old house comes into view, the lightness inside me dims ever so slightly. Nerves tighten in my body, and I worry that Willow won’t understand.
Deciding to expose my deceased father’s crimes doesn’t change anything about the way Willow feels. It doesn’t change the fact that I left without an explanation. It doesn’t change the fact that Willow’s family was destroyed because of my father, and maybe in a small part, because of my silence.
Still, I gather my courage and walk up to the front door. My breath trembles when I knock, and my heart stutters as I stand on her stoop, waiting.
The seconds tick by, and I wonder if maybe she’ll refuse to answer the door.
Then, I hear footsteps. The door swings open, and Willow’s red, blotchy, beautiful face appears. She’s been crying.
“Hi,” I say lamely.
“Hey.” She looks away.
“I’m in the process of dismantling my father’s business,” I say, feeling like a kid showing his parent a terrible finger painting, waiting for her to be proud of it. “I wanted you to know first, before it happens. I’m going to speak out about what he did to my family and to yours.”
Willow lets out a sigh and nods. “That’s good, Sacha.”
The distance in her voice makes my chest squeeze uncomfortably. How can I explain that I’m doing it for her? I’m going to do it so she knows I meant everything I said. That I love her. That I’m here for her. That I won’t leave.
But Willow doesn’t jump into my arms and kiss me. She stands there, a couple of feet away from me as the abyss between us deepens.
“Can I come in?” My voice is strangled.
Willow sighs, and pain shatters through my ribcage. She shakes her head. “I need some time, Sacha. I still have a lot of work to do and you’ve just told me so many things I didn’t know. I need to process it.”
Shouldn’t Want You: A Brother’s Best Friend Romance Page 15
