by Sloane West
Jen glanced at one of the mounted bronze plates.
In Loving Memory of Margaret Adkins
1932-2017
Brushing her fingers across it as they walked by, Jen smiled faintly. It was a thoughtful way to remember a loved one. Not only did the money save the tree, but it also served as a permanent memorial to its honoree.
“Cool,” Sara said. “I want one.”
“Well,” he said, pausing to let her slide off his back. “You’re in luck.”
Sara’s eyes widened.
He pointed her toward a newly erected post, its wood still blonde and its plaque shiny. “Go on. Check it out.”
Sara ran over, reading the inscription. Letting out a delighted gasp, she exclaimed, “It’s got my name on it!”
Ashley chuckled and glanced at Jen. “Maybe this will get me out of buying her an iPad for Christmas.”
Jen laughed, gazing at him with renewed affection. “Don’t count on it.”
He sighed, but they both knew he’d buy her a hundred iPads if she wanted them. “Dadding is damned expensive.”
“Jen,” Sara called. “Come look!”
Smiling, Jen did as commanded and joined Sara at the plaque. “This is awesome,” Jen said, admiring the inscription. Sponsored by Sara Lynn Danvers. “You’re famous now.”
Sara’s eyes lit up, and she glanced at Jen eagerly. “None of my friends at school have their own tree.”
Jen winked at her. “You’ll be the talk of sixth grade.”
Clearly enamored with the idea, Sara looked back at the plaque and then up at the tree itself. “I want to be a forestry manager just like Dad when I grow up.”
“You’re never growing up,” Ash reminded her, but pride blazed in his eyes.
Sara ignored him and proceeded to pull out her cell phone and take a selfie with her new plaque.
While she was busy perfecting her duck face, Ash came to stand by Jen. Taking her hand, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, murmuring, “Thank you for being so good with her.”
Jen leaned into him and closed her eyes, her heart so full it was almost painful. “She’s a great girl.”
“Yeah,” Ash said. “She is.”
“This was a sweet thing you did,” said Jen. “You’re all right for an uptight stick in the mud.”
He growled, drawing a laugh out of her. “I’ll show you how uptight I am later.”
Jen swatted him. “Animal.”
“Come with me,” he said, glancing at Sara, who was busy snapping another selfie, her fingers posed in a peace sign.
Jen let him lead her a few feet away to another striped maple. It, too, had a new plaque erected in front of it. She frowned and looked at him. “What did you do?”
He hesitated as if unsure of what her reaction would be. “I hope it’s okay. I wanted to do this for you.”
Confused but smiling, Jen glanced at the plaque.
And her heart stopped beating.
The plate bore only a single name.
Lily Ophelia Huntley
“My baby,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the engraved letters. “Oh, Ash.”
Jen had been young when she’d gotten pregnant. Only nineteen. She wasn’t proud of her reckless youth, and she had admittedly done more than a few stupid things. Namely, diving into doomed relationships with substandard men who bailed at the first sign of responsibility. Like, say, a baby on the way. Joel had been a drummer in a crappy local band, and, like the cliché she was, Jen had fallen for him faster than a penny in a wishing well. They had a fast and furious romance, during which she’d entertained visions of a magical life on the road with her rock-star lover, living the dream. But then she’d conceived, and Joel had gone from bad-boy musician to panicked deadbeat in a blink. The morning after she’d told him, she’d woken up to an empty apartment. The only thing he’d left behind were empty beer cans, a greasy pizza box, and his ZZ Top T-shirt—and only because she’d been sleeping in it.
After expelling what felt like gallons of tears, she’d set fire to the T-shirt in the kitchen sink. Then she’d wiped her snotty nose, pulled up her bootstraps, and called her best friend, Amy. Jen’s heartbreak over Joel’s escape was nothing compared to her budding love for the baby growing inside her. For the first time in her life, she’d felt like she had a purpose. And, together, she and Amy had endeavored to do right by the baby. An unlikely but dedicated mommy-and-honorary-aunt duo. They had read pregnancy books and put infant furniture together. They’d scoured baby-name websites and researched the best breast pumps. And when Jen had learned that the baby was a girl, the two women had screamed and hugged each other, tears of joy streaming down their faces.
Jen had decided then and there that she didn’t need a man. She would raise her daughter to be fierce and independent and kind. On her own, with her best friend by her side. Jen had always been a mess. An unkempt, forever-failing, boundary-pushing rebel. Which had been a hell of a ride. But the moment she’d learned she carried a girl, she’d been determined to become something more. Something better. A worthy role model. She could still remember burning with purpose and incredible love. It had been terrifying. Exhilarating.
Empowering.
But in her third trimester, she had suffered a hemorrhage, and she had lost the baby.
The devastation had been swift and deep. She had never known such overwhelming, crippling, crushing pain. And though Jen’s heart still beat, she’d died that night, too, and that death had taken the best parts of her with it. Anchorless and empty, she had sunk into a black, oily well where nothing and no one had mattered. Alcohol and, later, drugs had become her lovers, and those affairs had consumed her life.
And she’d welcomed it.
The numb haze of oblivion had been a sublime relief. Floating in that gray nothingness, there had been no pain, no sadness, no loss. There had only been the high. The euphoric release. The beautiful escape from reality. Amy had never given up on her, but their friendship had decayed in the shadow of Jen’s addiction, and it wasn’t long until the local bars and all they had to offer replaced Amy as her best friend. There, Jen could find everything she needed. Alcohol, drugs, and sex. So much meaningless, mind-numbing sex. The trifecta of forgetting. It was during that long stretch of slow suicide that she had first seen Ash and recognized a fellow derelict in him. Months later, long after their night of drug-laced passion, she’d finally reached the bottom of her barrel.
It had been a Saturday evening like every other. A blur of drunken laughter, blaring country music, and the clack of pool balls. She had been careless and stupid, and when a smooth-talking cowboy had offered her drugs, she had followed him outside without a second thought. And it was when he was raping her that she realized her life still had value. To this day, she could remember looking through the back glass of his truck and seeing a pair of baby shoes dangling from the rearview mirror. She’d thought of Lily. The memory had doused her in mental ice water, and her fight-or-flight reflex had kicked in.
She’d fought back for the first time.
In that moment, she realized she wasn’t the woman she wanted to be. Her daughter had died, but wasn’t Jen dishonoring her memory by wallowing in her grief and allowing herself to be abused? Just because Lily had never taken her first breath didn’t mean Jen had any less responsibility to be the woman, the mother, that her baby had deserved.
Jen’s unexpected and sudden struggle had caught the cowboy off guard, and with the help of a broken beer bottle, which she had kindly shoved into his kidney, she’d escaped. And, while it had taken a long time for her to stop hating herself and men, from that night onward, she’d begun the process of crawling out of the sludge pit of misery she’d been submerged in for far too long. The road was potholed with many failed attempts and ruined relationships, but today, she was clean, her friendship with Amy had been restored, and Ash was by her side. Life was good, and it was worth living. And she owed it to herself and her daughter to live i
t well.
“I can have it taken down,” Ash said gently, misinterpreting her silence. “Just say the word.”
She was so choked up that it took her a minute to speak, but she shook her head. “No, it’s beautiful.”
He let out a relieved breath and gazed at the plaque. “When you told me what happened, I wanted to do something,” he said. “This felt right.”
It was right. It was perfect. Jen had never been able to bring herself to visit Lily’s grave, and maybe she never would, but this . . . this she could do. It was a precious memorial to the daughter she had loved but never known, and being able to watch the young tree grow would, in some ways, be like watching Lily grow, too. Jen looked at Ash, and the tears fell. “Thank you.”
Telling Ashley about Lily hadn’t been easy, but it had been right. Talking about what happened always felt like tearing open an old wound that had never fully healed, but she’d wanted Ash to know that her baby had existed. Knowing he’d taken that knowledge and turned it into such a beautiful offering, made the love she felt for him burn all the more brightly.
“I wanted it to be your birthday gift,” he said. “But the plaque wasn’t ready in time.”
“It’s the best gift I’ve ever received,” she said and meant it. She would cherish it for the rest of her life.
He pulled her to him and kissed her hair. “I love you.”
She touched his stubbled jaw. “How could you not?”
Chuckling, he scolded her with a kiss. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
With joy sparkling inside her, she grinned at him. “I can think of a few things.”
His smile grew dangerous. “Such as?”
Before she could answer, Sara returned, looking scandalized by their PDA. “That is so gross.”
“Good,” Ash said. “Remember that the first time a boy tries to kiss you.”
Rolling her eyes, she looked at Lily’s plaque, tracing the letters with her fingers. Glancing at Jen, she asked, “Is Lily your baby?”
Jen swallowed but smiled at her. “Yes.”
“Dad said she died,” Sara said, gazing back at the plaque.
Though the familiar pain rose in Jen, it was more of a sorrowful whisper than a ragged roar. “She did,” Jen said. “She’d be about your age now.”
“My mom died, too,” Sara said. “She overdosed.”
Jen glanced at Ash, who wore an expression of old sadness. After she’d told him about Lily, he’d told her about Sara’s mother. Like Jen and Joel, Ash had met Rachel young. Both had been in the throes of addiction at the time, and their relationship had been one of convenience rather than love. It wasn’t until long after they’d separated that Ash had learned about his daughter. When Rachel died, she’d orphaned an eight-year-old Sara. Children’s Services had contacted Ash, who had been listed on the birth certificate as the father. Discovering that he had a daughter had been the turning point for him. He’d entered the men’s recovery program at Healing Hearts the same day and had spent every moment since trying to be the best father to Sara that he could be, and it showed.
“I know,” Jen said. “I’m sorry.”
And she was. In some ways, she could relate to Sara’s loss. Jen had lost a daughter, but Sara had lost a mother. Both had lost a giant part of themselves that could never be found. That Sara was so well-adjusted and happy after what was undoubtedly a tumultuous childhood was a testament to Ash’s dedication as a father.
“It’s okay,” Sara said. “I never knew her very well anyway. She was always either passed out or gone.”
Jen’s heart ached. What Sara must have gone through. A little girl, frightened and alone, while her mother lost herself to drugs. It reminded Jen of paths she could have taken. Had things turned out differently, she could have been the junkie mother abandoning her daughter. She hated Rachel’s choices, but Jen also saw herself in them, and she grieved for the woman right alongside Ash and Sara.
“I’m sure she loved you very much,” Jen said.
Sara smiled a little and looked older than her years. “I know. All moms love their daughters.”
Tears welled in Jen’s eyes again, and she nodded. “Yes, they do.”
Ash put his arms around both of them. “Come on,” he said. “There’s a pizza place about fifteen minutes from here, and there’s an extra-large with our names on it.”
Sara’s face brightened. “I’m starved.”
“First one to the truck gets to pick the toppings,” he said with a wink.
Without another word, she took off running, her ponytail flying.
Ash stared after her and sighed. “If I had half her energy.”
“I don’t know,” Jen said. “You were pretty energetic last night.”
He laughed, and it echoed around the grove. She grinned, thinking that everything was finally right in her world. She was realistic enough to know that right didn’t equal perfect, but she and perfect had never gotten along so good anyway. And she was looking forward to facing the messy, crazy, lovely imperfection that lay ahead with him.
Hand in hand, they headed for the truck. She glanced over her shoulder at Lily’s plaque one last time. A sweet kind of melancholy filled Jen, and she realized that she was finally free. She was no longer a prisoner of her addiction or her grief. They would both always be with her, she knew that, but this time, she held the key to her cell. Not the other way around. It was time to let go. Time to move on. Time to live.
And today was the first day of the rest of her life.
Thank you for reading Show Me the Money! I hope this enemies-to-lovers cupcake satisfied your sweet tooth! Please consider leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads! Don’t know how to write reviews? Don’t worry! Just a simple “I loved it!” will do! And it will mean the world to me. If you adored Jen and Ash’s story and want even more, I’ve written a free bonus extended epilogue! The epilogue is for newsletter subscribers only, so if you want to gobble it up, you can subscribe here:
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As a bonus bonus, I’ve also recorded a podcast just for Show Me the Money! In it, I answer some reader questions, discuss my inspiration for the story, and fill you in on the next story in the series, Money Talks. (Written transcriptions of all podcasts are available for the hearing impaired.) Listen to the podcast here:
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sloane West is the coffee-guzzling, chocolate-gobbling, cat-loving redhead behind the Money Hungry Series. She writes short, sexy, and crave-worthy stories that warm the heart and melt the panties. When not penning tempting tales, she can be found hunched over a jigsaw puzzle or hiking off that third (fourth) (c'mon, probably fifth) slice of pizza. You can find Sloane on her website at www.sloanewest.com or on Facebook.
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