The Will

by Kristen Ashley

  “What matters to you is important to me, honey. Straight up, bottom of my heart, it is. Believe that. But I gotta tell you, it’s important to me that you let this go.”

  “How would you feel, someone you didn’t know knew every word written on your soul for years and then they become important to you and they don’t share that with you and won’t tell you why? How would that make you feel, Jake?”

  “I’ll say what you have to know, that both Lydie and I had your best interests at heart.”

  “Really?” I asked, throwing out my arms. “Because if you did, I would have met you five or six years ago instead of you and your children being kept from me.”

  At that, he flinched.

  Oh God.

  Why?

  “Jake—”

  “Let it go.”

  “Jake!”

  “God damn it!” he suddenly shouted, leaned into me and roared, “Fuckin’ let it go!”

  I took a step back.

  Jake scowled at me.

  “You know when my father threw my diary at me and gave me a black eye,” I whispered.

  “Let it go, babe,” he ground out.

  “You know when I got my period.”

  “Let it go.”

  “You know when I lost my virginity.”

  “Jesus, fuckin’ let…it…go.”

  “You got to share your life with me in your truck. Over dinner. In bed. I didn’t get that luxury, Jake. Why?”

  “Josie, for fuck’s sake—”

  “Why?” I shrieked.

  “Let it go!” he thundered back.

  “No,” I whispered and watched him wince even as his jaw got hard. “Tell me, Jake.”

  “No,” he returned.

  We stood there, silent, staring at each other and we did this a long time.

  It was me who broke the silence.

  “How can this be?”

  Jake didn’t respond so I kept on.

  “How is it that we were as close as two people could get half an hour ago and now we’re done?”

  I watched Jake’s body jerk. “We’re not done.”

  I didn’t reply to that.

  I asked, “How could she do this to me?”

  “She didn’t do anything to you, Josie, except give you your dream.”

  Oh yes.

  He’d know about that too.

  He knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Own her, no,” he’d said at the reading of the will. “Do precisely what Lydie wanted me to do with her, yes.”

  Yes, he knew exactly.

  “I know you’d know that,” I said quietly, my voice awful and I knew Jake heard it because his jaw again went hard but his eyes went warm and alarmed. “I know you’ve read that. You know what I don’t know?”

  He didn’t answer.

  So I kept speaking.

  “What the foundation of my love for a man is based on. And I don’t know that because he won’t tell me.”

  His face changed, softened and he said, “You love me.”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  His face softened more and his voice was utterly beautiful when he went on, “Baby, I love you too.”

  “Not enough.”

  His body again jerked.

  I walked out of the room.

  Jake followed me.

  I went directly to my bag and when he put a hand on my arm, I yanked it free and took a step back.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Josie, dammit—”

  “I’ll ask that I can speak to the kids at some point to explain why I have to sell Lavender House and leave.”

  He took a step toward me, his body alert, his eyes back to alarmed. “What the fuck?”

  “We’re done.”

  “We are not done.”

  “We are, Jake.”

  “We fuckin’ aren’t, Josie.”

  I locked eyes with him and declared, “We very much are.”

  “Jesus, do not do this shit. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

  “I think it’s me who gets to make that determination and as I don’t have all the facts, I can’t make it. I can only make a decision. And I’m doing that.”

  “You’re throwing away everything for nothing.”

  “Again, I can’t know that.”

  He leaned back and crossed his arms on his chest. “Fuck, you’re stubborn.”

  I moved to my bag and hefted it up, settling the strap on my shoulder.

  I then squared off with him again.

  “Do not mistake this for a tiff. This is not a tiff. This isn’t something you can bide your time and wear me down to coming around to your way of thinking. This is it.”

  He shook his head, studying me closely.

  “I don’t understand if it’s gettin’ too real for you, you’re lookin’ for reasons to put your disguise back on so you don’t have to live your life and if that’s the case, the question would be why. Why, when we got somethin’ this good, would you walk away for somethin’ that means nothing?”

  “If you need to ask that question then you didn’t pay very much attention to the letter where I told Gran about my dream,” I replied and I walked away.

  I did not cry. Not when I grabbed my purse and coat and hurried out to the garage.

  I did not cry when I took the opener Jake gave me and put it on the workbench.

  I did not cry on the drive back to Lavender House. Nor did I cry when I called the locksmith to have him come and change the locks and do it with urgency.

  I only cried once that was all done, I was locked in and up in the light room.

  I didn’t feel safe there. Not anymore.

  I wasn’t safe anywhere, since Gran had betrayed me.

  But it was as good a place as any.

  * * * * *

  That afternoon, Jake stopped at the door to Ethan’s room and looked in at his son who had a controller in his hand and was playing some video game on his Xbox.

  “Yo,” Jake called.

  “Yo, Dad,” Ethan answered, not looking away from the TV.

  “Bud, I got a question,” Jake told him.

  “Yeah?”

  Jake took in a deep breath and asked, “You been in my office?”

  “What?”

  “My office, Eath. You get in my desk?”

  That got him a glance from his son that included a proud grin before he looked back to his game and answered, “Yeah. Totally. Picked the lock with one of Amber’s bobby pin thingies. It was awesome. Bryant’s been tryin’ to pick locks for ages and he hasn’t got close. I win.” He gave his father another brief glance before he stated, “That picture of Josie is cool. You should put it in the living room.”

  Jake took in another calming breath.

  It wasn’t his son that fucked up. It was him that fucked up.

  Even so.

  “Bud, pause the game a sec, yeah?”

  Ethan must have registered his tone because he didn’t delay in pausing the game and looking to his dad.

  “Just need you to know somethin’,” Jake said quietly. “We got a lot of people in this house and Amber, Con or me, we might have things that we want to keep private. One day, you might have things like that too. You gotta respect that, Eath, because it’s the right thing to do and because you’ll want that returned to you.”

  Ethan’s face had changed in a way Jake didn’t like and he’d know why when Eath asked, “Did I screw up?”

  “No,” Jake lied.

  Then again, Ethan didn’t screw up.

  Jake did.

  Ethan’s face was even worse when he asked, “Is what I did why Josie didn’t pick me up from school today?”

  “No, bud,” Jake said firmly.

  Another lie.

  Fuck.

  “Just want you to be cool about that kind of thing,” he went on. “You get me?”

  “Yeah, Dad.”

  “Thanks, Eath,” Jake muttered. “You can go back to your game,” he told him before
turning to walk away.

  Ethan caught him by calling his name and Jake turned back.

  “Where is Josie?” he asked, watching his father closely.

  “She’s got some shit to do.” Probably not a lie. “She’ll be back, son.” Fuck, he hoped that wasn’t a lie.

  Ethan studied him a moment before he murmured, “Cool,” and turned back to the game.

  Jake walked away from his door thinking things were not cool. Not by a long shot.

  Fuck, he’d fucked up.

  And he had to fix it.

  But he figured Josie needed time.

  She had the night.

  Then, tomorrow, he’d go to his woman and he hoped like fuck he could make things “cool.”

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Jake heard high-heeled shoes on his wood floors in the gym and his head whipped around just as his heart thumped in his chest.

  He straightened away from his desk, clenching his teeth when he saw Alyssa.

  No.

  Strike that.

  He saw Alyssa fit to be tied.

  She made a beeline to his office, her eyes never leaving him, his never leaving her and the instant she cleared the door, he stated, “Alyssa, don’t got the time.”

  She slammed the door, crossed her arms on her chest and returned, “Make the time.”

  “Woman—” he started but she cut him off.

  “Josie stood me up for lunch yesterday.”

  Jake sighed, leaned against his desk and curled his fingers around the edge of it.

  But he said nothing.

  “Called her all day. Finally got through to her late last night. She said things have changed. She’s putting Lavender House on the market. Takin’ some job with some designer in New York City and leavin’ the first chance she gets.”

  His heart again thumped in his chest. This time so hard it fucking hurt.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He finally spoke. “See you think Josie made this your business. But it isn’t.”

  “You’re wrong. She’s my friend. She’s a good friend. I care. And outside of her grandmother, you’re the only good thing she’s had in her life and she knows it. Now she’s leaving?” she asked then went on before she got an answer. “Why?”

  “I’m gonna sort it out,” he assured her.

  “Well, hurry, Jake,” she shot back. “Because she didn’t sound right. She sounded all cold and haughty and she’s got that uppity thing workin’ for her in her way but this wasn’t that. She was cold as fucking ice.”

  That was not good.

  Fuck.

  Alyssa was not done.

  “You’ve had three women slip through your fingers, Jake. They were slippery and not worth the effort of holdin’ on. Now you got one who is. Since that’s the case and you know it, don’t know why you’re in your goddamned office doin’ whatever-the-fuck you’re doin’.” She threw out an arm. “But I’d get the lead out, babe. You don’t, she’ll slide away.”

  “Respect, Alyssa,” he said low. “You know you got that from me. But you gotta back off and let me and Josie work this shit out.”

  She held his eyes a beat before she leaned in and whispered, “Hurry.”

  And with that, she turned, threw open the door and stomped out.

  Jake watched her go.

  Then he grabbed his keys from the desk, walked into the gym and called out to Troy who was at a speed bag. “Gotta go do something. Text me, you leave and no one’s here.”

  “Got it,” Troy replied, his eyes never leaving the bag, his gloves constantly moving.

  Jake went straight to his truck.

  Then he went straight to Lavender House.

  He did this thinking about his kids last night. The questions. The confusion. The unease. Josie had been with them every night for weeks. Now, she was gone.

  They didn’t like it.

  They were freaked by it.

  And he had no good reason to give them why she was.

  Except he was a fucking moron. But he didn’t share that with his kids.

  He should have told her, straight up, from the beginning.

  And when he didn’t, when he saw her with those goddamned letters, he should have come clean.

  He didn’t.

  And he didn’t because he was an idiot. He didn’t because of pride. He didn’t because he didn’t ever want to lose that look in her eyes she gave him just half an hour before, her in his bed, her hair down and mussed, his cum still inside her.

  Contentment.

  Safety.

  Happiness.

  Love.

  When she knew, it would be like when your kid first finds out you can’t make miracles.

  Like when your daughter’s grandmother dies and you can’t bring her back and she knows you want to heal every hurt and thinks you can move mountains to do that. And when she figures out you can’t, you still have her love, you still have her heart, but you’ve lost something precious. What you’ve lost is that understanding that runs deep that you can do everything.

  And when you want to give her everything, seeing it in her eyes she knows you can’t fucking kills.

  He wanted more time to have that from Josie.

  He should have just told her.

  Now, he was going to tell her.

  And thank fuck, he could do that, he saw as he drove up the lane to Lavender House and her Cayenne was parked out front.

  She had several out buildings, one of them being a garage that looked like it was built the year the Model A rolled out. It needed to be fixed up, a decent door put in so Josie could park in there. Especially since the weather was going to get worse.

  Or it needed to be knocked down and something built onto the house so she didn’t have to walk outside at all.

  He’d discuss that with her and deal with it later.

  After he got this shit done.

  He got out, went to the door and turned the knob.

  He stared down at it when he found it was locked.

  He then hit the doorbell as he found the key on his ring.

  He stared down at the lock when his key didn’t fit.

  Jesus.

  Was she so far gone she’d change the locks?

  He hit the doorbell again and knocked.

  No sound came from inside, not that that thick wood door would let any out.

  He again tried the key.

  No go.

  “Jesus,” he whispered out loud this time, hitting the doorbell again.

  Nothing.

  He pulled out his phone and called her.

  He got voicemail.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, disconnecting, his heart again thumping in his chest. He moved around the house, trying the key in each lock and looking in windows.

  She’d changed the locks on all the doors and was nowhere to be seen.

  At the back, he moved beyond the greenhouse and took in the landscape. The sea. The arbor. The empty garden.

  He turned and looked up at the house.

  He saw her in the light room.

  She was in the window seat staring down at him and he began to lift a hand but went solid when he watched her stand up, turn away and disappear.

  “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Jake whispered but moved swiftly to the greenhouse, trying the door he knew was locked and looking through.

  She didn’t appear in the kitchen.

  She didn’t appear in the family room when he walked by.

  Or the living room.

  Or at the front door when he went back to it and hammered.

  Jake hit her number on his phone and when he got voicemail, his chest was burning and his jaw was tight.

  “Baby, call me. We got shit to talk about. I’m drivin’ away now, givin’ you time. Tomorrow, we’ll meet at The Shack for an omelet. Nine o’clock.” He drew in breath and finished, “Kids miss you, Slick, and so do I.”

  He disconnected, moved into the lane and looked back up at Lydie’s house.
Josie’s house.

  Fuck, he should have just told her.

  Then he got in his truck, his chest still burning, his jaw clenched, his gut tight, and he drove away.

  * * * * *

  At nine fifty-five the next morning, after getting a coffee and standing at the end of the wharf for nearly an hour, Jake Spear walked away from The Shack.

  And Tom watched him do it.

  Then he slid the steel shutter over the window.

  * * * * *

  “I’ll leave you to it,” the bank manager murmured as he took his leave.

  “Thank you,” I replied, took a deep breath and looked down at Gran’s safety deposit box.

  Keeping my mind off things I should have my mind on, I opened it.

  I’d found the key I’d completely forgotten the day before when I was going through my bag, again keeping my mind off things I should have had them on.

  This precisely being the fact that I’d done much the same as what Donna had done.

  I’d had a drama, made a silly decision, stuck my feet in and refused to look at the facts.

  These being I was in love with Jake, Jake was in love with me, we were happy and whatever it was between him and Gran was between him and Gran.

  He wanted to keep it that way and I had to trust he had his reasons. He told me it was important that I let it go and he’d also told me it was not that big of a deal.

  These two contradicted each other.

  But even as they did that, I knew two other things.

  Gran loved me.

  As did Jake.

  And the first time he told me that, I’d walked away.

  I just didn’t know how to fix it even though he’d told me how.

  Call him.

  Meet him at The Shack.

  I didn’t do either.

  The last boyfriend I had I fought with and the results were very unpleasant.

  Jake was not him.

  I still didn’t know how to go about seeking someone out to admit you’d been a fool and apologize.

  Jake had not called again.

  Jake had not called after I didn’t meet him at The Shack.

  And now it was past one o’clock, which was a long time since I should have met Jake at The Shack, and I was going from feeling imprudent to being scared.

  Thus, on a kind of autopilot, I was carrying on with inconsequential things when I should be finding Alyssa and picking her brain in order to sort out the mess I’d made.