by Snow, Nicole
I promised.
Keeping one hand over the top of the stack, I point to the signature line on the first paper. “This one’s for the phone company. I know, who has a landline anymore, but you know Jonah...” After she signs it, I flip just the bottom half of the page. “Here’s the gas company next.”
My pulse increases as I flip to the next page, then another.
Several are completely unnecessary, simply needed so there are too many for her to want to read.
I hold my breath as she keeps signing and I keep flipping. I don’t let my lungs work till the very last page has her curly little name attached.
Thank Fuck.
She sets down the pen and wipes a hand across her cheek when it’s done.
Noticing the moisture there, my stomach drops.
It’s hard for me. For her, it’s worse.
Honestly, I half expected a spoiled brat, a chick so pampered she’d want to bolt after an hour or two here in the boonies.
Jonah always insisted his Bella wasn’t like that, but having been here for four years and knowing without a doubt that she’d never visited Jonah in person, I wasn’t convinced he was right.
I’m still not completely convinced.
Hell, even now, a part of me wants to tell her I’ll move back to the cabin, but that would put her out of eyesight, and I can’t have it.
She’s my cover, the single precious thing I have to protect. No different than my sharp shooting days in the Army, never taking my eyes off my cover or the targets after them.
I scoop the stack of papers up, giving them a good whack against the table to make them even.
“Beautiful. The hard part’s over now. There’s plenty of food in the cupboards, so help yourself to anything,” I say. “Your room’s still upstairs, hasn’t changed a bit.”
She blinks several times, as if trying to hold off the tears welling in the bottom of her eyes. “Thanks.”
Pushing away from the table, she stands. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just go unpack and...” Drawing in a deep breath, she pinches her lips together as a few tears escape her eyes.
Shaking her head, I see she’s hit her limit. She turns and scurries out of the room without another word.
Hello, guilt. I’ve had that shit as my shadow for several years now, and a new, heavy bout strikes as I hear her smothered sobs.
Shit.
I don’t know why I ever thought we could do this with minimal damage.
Make no mistake: this will get ugly. Has to.
Carrying the papers to the back porch, I pack up my shooting gear, and then bring everything up to my bedroom. The room directly across the hall from hers, all the distance I’m afraid I’ll get from Bella Reed over the next six months.
“Dammit, Jonah,” I mutter under my breath. “I hope you’re satisfied, wherever you are.”
3
Trust the Adventure (Bella)
The stairs, the hallway, my bedroom are nothing but a flipping blur.
I squeeze my eyes shut and lean against the door I’ve just closed. It doesn’t help the tears, which come in angry waves.
I can’t stop picturing Grandpa’s name.
Jonah Reed.
It was there, typed in bold letters across the top of the first sheet of paper I’d signed. I’m just glad Mr. Grump-alicious – the name Sheridan gave eludes me at the moment – didn’t ask me to read every page.
I’d have never made it to the last one.
It’s all too permanent, and suddenly, all too real.
Gramps is gone.
Gone.
His face, his voice, his humor, his everything.
The tears burn hotter, and I have nothing left, no strength to fight back anymore.
So I give in, slinking down the door, gracelessly onto the floor. My forehead bangs my knees, and I hug my shins, making myself into the tightest, smallest ball I can as the pain fully engulfs me.
“Oh, Gramps.”
Two words. Too many memories.
Me, tiny, perched with him on Edison’s saddle. The hot summer sun burning down as we rode over the hills, the scent of Gramps’ leather jacket and that hint of pine cologne he always wore.
Me again, trudging downstairs when I was eleven or twelve, just as he hung up the phone. “Forget it, Molly. She’s fine. Long as she’s with me, she’s happy,” I’d heard him snap, the sour look on his face twisting into a grin like nothing could ever be wrong the second he laid eyes on me.
Me, times three, throwing his arms around me in that totally Gramps way the last time we left his place together before heading to the airport.
I’d just turned eighteen and became fair game for a new kind of teasing. Gramps, wondering when I’d walk through his door one day with a serious boyfriend, and then a wedding, and then great grandkids.
And now...now he’d never get that chance.
And with my life cratered like it is, I’m damned afraid I won’t either.
I’m on the floor for what seems like forever when a noise in the hallway causes me to lift my head. The room is still a blur, but my tears have run dry. My eyes are just hot, burning beads instead.
It hurts to blink. It hurts to breathe. It just hurts. Period.
Something I tell myself I’d better get used to. The hurt. It’s not going away anytime soon.
Another sound comes from the hall, a door gently shutting. That man again, I’m sure.
Pushing off the floor, I walk over to the bed, a big queen-sized mattress with a log frame. A smile tugs at my lips. I’d been fourteen and had already gotten bit by the design bug.
I must’ve spent hours watching HGTV. Mom wouldn’t let me design my bedroom in the house we lived in then, but that summer, Gramps let me redo this one.
I said I was too old for the pink and white canopy twin bed I’d had for as long as I could remember. He gave me free rein to do whatever I wanted, short of it needing additions to the house.
I’d been the one to say I’d wanted a budget so I could make it a real project.
He agreed, and I had so much fun printing off pictures from the internet and pasting them on tag boards, showing him everything. I probably made twenty boards before I settled on this rustic cabin theme. Naturally, his favorite. Mine, too.
I’d hated to leave this room that fall for school back in Oregon.
Actually, I hated leaving the ranch every time one of my stays here came to its bitter end.
Drawing in a deep breath, I run my hand across the down comforter, glad the cabin theme was the design we’d picked. I still love it as much as I did back then.
The clean cut log furniture, and the red and green plaid. It may not work in some homes, but in others, it’ll never go out of style.
Oregon has plenty of it too, but out here, miles from a single neighbor? It just seems more real.
During the summers that followed, I redecorated other rooms.
Again, Gramps gave me full rein and a budget.
I’d loved every waking minute of it, and I’d stuck to this theme. Cabins, lodges, blankets comfier than Paul Bunyan’s biggest flannel wet dream.
My mind drifts to the kitchen downstairs. I never had time to fully examine things, but overall, the rustic and modern flowed together there, too, with earthy browns, blacks, and golds.
My cell phone ringing fills me with dread.
Crap, my parents. Has to be. It’s been hours since I left the hotel in a huff.
I consider not answering, but a sense of obligation says I should, if just to tell them I made it out here okay. So I zip open my purse, lifting out the phone.
The second I see the name on the screen, my dread eases.
Alexa Maybee might be the only person on the planet who gets how much Gramps meant to me. I swipe the answer button. “Hey!”
“Hey, girlfriend. You alive? I’ve been worried. I was gonna call you last night, but I figured you were busy with – ya know. How’re you holding up?”
The
sound of her eternally chipper voice would’ve made me teary-eyed even if my eyes were as dry as a desert. “Fine, I guess. The funeral was okay.”
“You sure? You don’t exactly sound fine.”
I sigh. There’s no hiding anything. We’ve been roommates since our freshman year of college. And best friends. She knows me like her own reflection. I sit down on the bed and suck in a breath.
“You really want to know? Okay. This flipping sucks.”
“I know it does, Bella babe,” Alexa says. “I just wish I could say something, do something to take the edge off. Can’t bring him back, but...”
“It’s fine. There’s nothing anyone can do, but it’s good to hear your voice. It helps a lot.”
“Are your parents there?” I hear the quiver, the unease in her voice when she asks. She drops to a whisper. “Do I dare ask...Mom-zilla?”
Her goofy nickname for my mother gives me the first real smile all day.
It’s mutual. Alexa doesn’t like my parents any more than they like her.
Not Mom, anyway. Calls her 'unbecoming,' whatever the hell that means. Dad is just Dad, a big empty bag of neutral. “Not here, thankfully. I’m at the ranch. They’re still in town, staying at the hotel. Presidential suite, of course.”
“Ah, goodie! You don’t need their bullshit right now.”
“Well, I’m kinda going to have their bullcrap for the rest of my life. Especially now.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
Of course she’s in suspense. Waiting. God, how do I even break this down for a normal person?
“Gramps left everything to me.” I just blurt it out.
“He – holy fuck-a-roo! Everything?! Are you kidding?”
My silence tells her I’m not.
Then she clears her throat loudly. “Let me just take a sec to say, I knew you before you were famous. And partying it up in Hollywood with whatever hot Instagram guy you decide to marry. On second thought, screw it. Just go reverse harem!”
“Lexaaa...” I’m trying so hard not to laugh.
She’s hilarious, but it feels so out of place, considering the rest of today.
Her Mach five squeal and the giddy laughter that follows is so intense I jerk the phone away from my ear.
“God, lady, I wish I’d been there! The look on your mom’s face...it must’ve been priceless.” After another laugh, she says, “I’m sorry if I’m out of line. But I’ve told you before, I can’t believe you two are related.”
Alexa has said that many, many times. Always when Mom’s out of the apartment.
“Believe it,” I say. “Remember? I’m the reason she had to have surgery. Giving birth to me ruined her perfect body.”
I’m trying to laugh, but it’s something she’s openly said on a few occasions.
“Oh yeah, right-o. Bet it was one fucked up delivery to have left her needing a nose job.”
Now, I laugh. Exhibit C why Mom never liked Alexa. She calls it as she sees it without holding any punches, and it’s why I love having her in my life. “Come on, you know I was referring to the tummy tuck and the boob job.”
“Come again? Um, I kinda lost track figuring out which part of her hasn’t been replaced,” Alexa snickers.
She’s too right, sadly.
Half the reason we’d moved from the West Coast to out east and back again when I was little was because Mom wanted to chase the very best in cutting edge plastic surgery.
“I miss you, Lexa,” I say, wiping a tear off my cheek. At least this one’s just from laughing myself sore.
“Miss you, too.” Her voice softens. “Sooo, how long will you be gone? Got a lot to take care of? I mean, inheriting a fortune probably has a lot of legalese, I guess, but I hope you won’t be stuck there forever.”
A weight lands on my shoulders. I thought I’d told her the hardest parts of today, but the six-month stay here? How do I even begin?
“Well...I don’t even know how much there is to take care of. The lawyer gave me a quick outline after he read the will, but honestly, I can’t even tell you what he said. I was so zoned out.”
“Fair. It has to be overwhelming. I hope he understands that.”
I nod, even though I know she can’t see me. “He does. He’s a nice guy. Said he’ll help me with everything. The will was very specific. Gramps laid out dang near everything. I’ll meet with his guy again in a few days, after my parents leave and the drama calms down.” I glance around the room. “Alexa, I have to be honest – I have no earthly idea when I’ll head back to California. The will, it’s kinda weird. You remember my stories about Gramps? He was amazing, but a little eccentric sometimes. It basically says I have to stay put at the ranch for six months.”
“Six months? Really?” Her voice shifts, but it isn’t angry. More like concerned. Sad.
A flash of relief fills me. “Don’t worry. I’ll send you every penny I owe for my half of the rent.”
I’ll send her a little extra, if I’m being honest, but I’m not going to say it on the phone. I know the second I do, she’ll refuse it.
“Holy hell, six months. Well, as long as you’re happy, Bella babe,” she tells me, slipping back into her usual chill tone.
“I’m...happier than you’d think. It’s been years since I was able to get back here to this little town. I love this place, honestly. Always will.”
“I know, but damn I’m going to miss you. You’d better fly out and visit, first chance you get.”
“You know I will.” My heart sinks in my chest.
I’m going to miss her something fierce. Not wanting the tears to hit again, I say, “Like I said, I’ll still pay my half of the rent and monthly bills. You’re totally covered and –”
“Stop it! That’s not why I’ll miss your face and you know it.”
She’s quiet for a moment. So am I.
Emotions are hard for us, okay? The sticky ones with each other, I mean. If it’s anyone else mucking up our lives, or laughs or drinks or talking about guy crushes, we’re inseparable.
But us? We’ve rarely had to confront the future of our friendship quite like this.
“You’re my best friend,” Alexa tells me. “I’ve seen you practically every day for the last six years. You’re the Monica to my Rachel. I ain’t going anywhere, and neither are you, lady.”
That’s how she’s always described us, and it fits.
From day one, her yin and my yang made us compatible. The years that followed have brought us as close as sisters. With completely different parents, of course.
Hers are amazing. Mine, well, not so much.
Six months of no Lexa is going to suck royally. “Maybe you can fly out here to small town America. Just a long weekend or something.”
“Maybe. I’ll have to see how it goes with my job. I don’t have any vacation time built up yet.”
Don’t I know it. She’d just landed her dream job about four months ago, being a multi-platform editor for a major broadcasting company, working on everything from sitcoms to daily news shows.
“No worries. One of us is getting on a plane, one way or another. I’ll be in California for Fall, no doubt about it.”
“That’d be awesome! Until then, you’d better stay in touch.”
“Every week, Lexa. I’ll keep you updated on everything.”
“I know you will, because I’ll be calling.”
We both laugh. I’m seriously grateful to have such an amazing friend.
“In the meantime, is there anything you need? Anything I can send? Have shipped to you?”
“I’ve got the essentials, but thanks.”
“Just let me know when you do. Clothes. Shoes. Civilization.”
I laugh again. “Hey, come on. It’s not like this place is Antarctica, or something. Even if the winters are harsh.”
Honestly, she’s the one with a closet overflowing with the latest fashions. Despite my mother, I’ve never been into designer labels. “I can buy anything I’ll need here. Dallas
is a small town, but there’s—”
“A store that sells jeans and tank tops?” she asks. “Good. That’s all you’ll need since it’s all you ever wear.”
The Crazy Shack was one of the best known stores in Dallas. At least it used to be. The western wear clothing store had been the one store I could go crazy in. Every summer, I got a new wardrobe there. And had to leave them behind.
Every time I tried to sneak a few favorites back home with me, Mother found them and threw them away after scolding me for liking such 'cheap cowgirl crap.’
I hope they’re still open because for once I’ve got the time and money to enjoy what I pick. Smiling, I tell Alexa, “I’m wearing your black dress right now. The one you loaned me for the funeral.” I hold up a foot. “And your black pumps.”
She laughs. “I’m glad. If people are gonna be sad, they ought to do it in style. What’d Mom-zilla say?”
“I don’t think she even noticed.” I pluck a piece of hair off the front of the dress. A horse hair. Edison’s. “I’ll mail the dress and shoes back to you. Thanks for the loan, but...I’m not sure I ever want to see this outfit again.”
“Gotcha.”
“Thanks again, Lexa. I needed this.” I twirl the Edison hair lazily between my fingers. “I should go. Take a shower and change.” And then go to the barn and see Edison. He’s probably waiting on me.
“Are you alone there? At the ranch?”
Crap. It’s like she has a sixth sense. The way she asks is almost knowing.
“Um...no.” A shiver tickles my spine.
Do I really have to tell her about Mr. Grump-alicious? For one, I need to start remembering his name.
Alexa would be thrilled knowing I’m not alone. That I’m sharing the house with a guy who’d make her head pop off if she got a good look. I’ve seen the kinds of books she reads, and this boy...well, let’s just say he’d cause whiplash if he was on the covers, sitting real pretty on the shelves.
She’d have a few suggestions what to do about him, too.
That’s why I don’t want to tell her. Why I can’t tell her. Not right now.
“Edison’s here, I mean. I’m not really alone.”
“Edison-Edison? The horse? He’s still alive?”
