Chapter Fifty-Five Joshua
Chapter Fifty-Five
Joshua
The sky was grey, that kind of dull, colourless grey that sits heavy on your chest. I parked the bike by the gate and walked the rest of the way; the flowers clutched in my hand, the smell of rain still lingering in the air.
The grass was damp when I stopped in front of her grave.
Sofia Lockhart.
The letters never looked real to me. They still didn’t.
I crouched down, brushing away a few stray leaves. Next to her headstone was another one: Evelyn Grayson. Alex’s mum. The two of them stood side by side. That’s how we met.
I still remember it: me at eleven, sitting here with my knees pulled up, crying into my sleeve.
Then this boy walked up and just… sat down next to me.
He didn’t say sorry or hi. Just, “That’s my mum.”
And I looked at him and said, “That’s mine.”
He nodded, serious, and said, “They probably know each other.”
And that was it. That’s how it started. The two of us bonded over the women we lost.
I looked at the two graves now, still side by side, as if they planned it. Maybe they did. Maybe the universe did.
“Hey, Mom,” I said quietly, setting the flowers down. White lilies. “You liked these.”
The words got caught somewhere between my throat and my chest. I rubbed the back of my neck, letting out a shaky breath.
“I lost her,” I said finally. “I lost Aurora.”
Silence. Just the wind.
“She’s… she’s everything you used to be,” I murmured. “Kind, patient. Too kind sometimes. The type that listens when people don’t deserve to be heard. The type that forgives before anyone even says sorry.”
I leaned forward a little, elbows on my knees.
“She made me feel like I wasn’t broken anymore. Like maybe I could be someone good. Someone you’d still be proud of.”
My voice cracked a bit. I didn’t care.
“I told her to go,” I whispered. “I told her I didn’t want to see her again. I didn’t mean it. I was just… scared.”
I swallowed hard, staring at her name.
“She’s so good, Mom. She’s—” I let out a broken laugh.
“She’s soft. She talks as if she’s scared to take up space.
She laughs at stupid things. She’s got this look when she concentrates, and I swear she doesn’t even realise how beautiful she is.
I fell for her. I really fucking did. I fell for her so fast I didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late. ”
My hands clenched into fists on my knees.
“I thought I didn’t deserve her,” I said, quieter now. “I thought she’d realise I wasn’t enough and leave, anyway. So, I did it first. I hurt her before she could hurt me. And now she’s gone.”
I looked at the two graves again.
“You’d tell me I’m an idiot,” I said. “And you’d be right.”
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of rain again. I stared at the flowers for a long time, my chest tight.
“What do I do, Mom?” I whispered. My throat burned. My shoulder shook so hard, it physically ached all over my body. “She’s not coming back anymore, Mom. I lost it all, I lost everything.”
I sat there for a long time, just talking to her. About Aurora. About the year I’d known her. About the stupid things: how she fed stray cats, how she can’t handle coffee, how she eats bread like it’s a whole meal.
And then I told her the truth.
“She makes me want to be better,” I said softly. “For her. For you. For me.”
I stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off my hands.
“But you know those stupid movie lines?” I whispered. “If you love someone, you have to let them go…”
I looked at her name one more time. Then at Evelyn Grayson’s.
I looked down at the lilies on my mom’s grave. White. Clean. I took one out from the bunch and stared at it for a second, then glanced at the stone beside hers.
Alex’s mum.
I crouched, brushing the wet grass away from the base of her stone, and laid a single lily there too.
“Asshole,” a voice called out. “My mum’s allergic to lilies.”
I didn’t have to turn around to recognise the damn way he said mom… mum. But I turned anyway and saw Alex walking up the hill, a bouquet of bright, wild flowers in his hand.
I huffed out a quiet laugh. “Well, you never come visit her anyway, so she wouldn’t know.”
He scoffed. “You’re an idiot.”
“And,” I added, pointing to Evelyn’s headstone, “I think she’s fine now. Look, not sneezing.”
He gave me that flat, deadpan glare. “You’re so fucking dumb.”
“Evelyn would not like that tone,” I muttered, turning back toward my mom’s grave.
He rolled his eyes, crouched down, and set his bouquet in front of his mother. Then, after a beat, he plucked one flower out of it, a pale yellow daisy, and stuck it into the soil beside my mum’s lilies.
“So they can have one of each other’s,” he said, pretending to sound casual.
I stared at it for a second, then looked at him. “You came because you were driving past, didn’t you?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. Saw your bike. Figured I’d check you weren’t crying or something.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “So if you didn’t see my bike, you wouldn’t have come?”
“Oh, fuck off,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been busy. Some of us have actual lives, you know.”
“Right, right,” I said, grinning. “Busy not being sentimental, huh?”
He glanced at me, smirking just a little. “You talk to your mum as if she can hear you. I talk to mine in my head. Same thing.”
“Difference is I love my mom,” I said.
He shoved my shoulder lightly. “Fuck you, I love my mum too.”
Alex stared down at both graves, silent for a while before letting out a low sigh.
“Let’s go,” he muttered. “It’s gonna rain.”
I looked up at the clouds. He wasn’t wrong. But the air was calm, and I wasn’t ready to leave yet. “I’m fine with rain, it doesn’t get to me anymore,” I said quietly. “Not really in the mood to rush as well.”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Of course you’re not.”
Then I looked at him properly, really looked and laughed a bit at how stupid he looked. “Why the fuck are you in a suit? You look like a fucking funeral home CEO.”
He shot me a look. “I went to an event. Some of us heirs actually have businesses to run.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Good for you, Mr Grayson. Meanwhile, I’ve got an orphanage to run.”
“Which you chose,” he reminded me. “You could’ve taken your dad’s empire.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” I said. “Don’t wanna touch anything that man’s ever built.”
He smirked. “See, that’s the difference between you and me. I took my dad’s empire just to destroy his legacy. I’m gonna make it better than he ever did, so when people talk about Grayson Enterprises, they don’t remember him. They remember me.”
I shook my head with a small laugh. “You’re such a bitter little bitch.”
He shrugged. “You’re just a coward.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thank you.”
I huffed a laugh and turned away, staring at our mothers’ graves again.
“Dinner?” he said, pulling out his car keys.
“You’re paying,” I said immediately.
“I always pay,” he snapped.
“Exactly. Tradition.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes but smirking, anyway.
As we started walking toward the gate, I glanced at him. “You know… It’s kinda weird.”
He groaned. “Don’t start with your sentimental shit, Lockhart.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “If we hadn’t shown up here at the same time when we were kids, we never would’ve met. You’d still be some uptight little heir who thinks he’s better than everyone.”
“And you’d still be a loner who kicks footballs at innocent girls,” he shot back.
“Touché.”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Ten years,” he said quietly. “Ten fucking years since we met. At a graveyard. That’s depressing as hell.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But it suits us.”
He chuckled, unlocking his car. “Let’s meet at the usual place. I’ll book a table.”
“Alright,” I said, heading toward my bike.
“Try not to crash,” he called.
I flipped him off. “Wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”
He smirked, sliding into his car. “See you there, freak.”
I started the engine, shaking my head but smiling. “See you, bastard.”
—
Alex and I sat across from each other at our usual table, the one by the window. He’d already loosened his tie and was scrolling through his phone, while I was just quietly eating.
“Alright,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “What’d you talk to your mum about?”
I blinked up at him. “What?”
He smirked. “Don’t look at me like that. I know your crazy ass talks to the fucking grave.”
I scoffed, stabbing a piece of chicken. “You’re one to talk.”
“Yeah, but I don’t whisper life updates to mine like I’m on a fucking podcast.”
I gave him a glare. “Aurora,” I muttered finally.
He looked up. “Aurora?”
“Yeah.”
“As in Aurora Aurora?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “The girl I told you to leave the fuck alone after you hurt her?”
I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound like I ran her over.”
“You might as well have.”
I set my fork down, sighing. “You know it was an accident, Alex. You know that. I didn’t mean to do any of it. I just—” I rubbed the back of my neck, staring down at my plate. “I didn’t know how to love her properly.”
He froze.
Then, slow, smug disbelief spread across his face.
“Hold on,” he said. “Joshua Maxine Lockhart just uttered the word love.”
I glared at him, but he was already grinning.
“Yeah,” I said flatly. “Joshua Maxine Lockhart just uttered the word love. You happy now?”
He laughed, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. “Oh, this is going in the history books. I’m printing it. Framing it. Maybe even tattooing it.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, picking my fork back up. “I just… I needed to let it out somewhere, okay? Didn’t know who else to talk to. So I went to my mom.”
“Wow, gee, thanks,” he said. “As if I wasn’t right here.”
I gave him a look. “You literally told me to stay away from her.”
He paused, pointing his fork at me. “Fair. But still. You’re an asshole, and I would’ve still listened.”
I smirked a little. “You? Listen?”
He grinned back. “Well, I’d mock you the entire time, but yeah. I’d listen.”
We both went quiet for a bit, just the sound of forks scraping plates.
I leaned back in my chair, picking at the edge of the napkin. “You really do nag at me a lot, you know that?”
Alex didn’t even look up from his drink. “Yeah. And? I’m older”
“By three weeks and a day.”
“Still older, twat.”
His Britishness pisses me off… a lot.
“I’m just saying,” I went on. “You scold me, tell me what to do, boss me around like I’m your fucking intern. You ever think about how much you order me around?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Because you’re an asshole and you do dumb shit.”
I stared at him. “So why don’t you just, I don’t know, leave? Stop being friends with me if I’m such an asshole.”
He finally looked up, that signature bored expression in his eyes. “Because,” he said, “I’m also an asshole.”
I paused. Then nodded slowly. “You know what? Yeah. That’s fair. You are an asshole.”
“Exactly,” he said, stabbing his fork into his pasta as if he’d just won an argument.
I smirked. “What if I, like, killed someone?”
He didn’t even blink. “I have enough money to bail you out of jail; don’t test me.”
I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “You’d help me hide the body, huh?”
He shrugged again, casual as ever. “I’d probably kill someone before you get to.”
I leaned back, grinning. “Okay, you’re loyal.”
He gave me a flat look. “Took you ten years to realise I was loyal?”
“Yeah, well,” I said, sipping my drink. “You hide it under all the bitchiness.”
“Yeah, well,” he mocked back, smirking. “You hide your feelings under all the football and trauma.”
I flicked a fry at him. He caught it midair and popped it into his mouth.
“Still got reflexes,” he said.
“Still hate you,” I replied.
I glanced at the suit again.
“So,” I said, “how’s the empire? The private airline. You running it into the ground yet?”
He gave me a dead stare. “It’s fine,” he said flatly. “Didn’t check much. I just sat in the office, nodded through boring-ass meetings, signed a few papers, looked intimidating, you know, CEO things.”
I smirked. “Sounds productive.”
He stabbed his pasta again. “It fucking sucks. All talk, no action. I can’t even fly my own damn planes until after graduation. But once I take over fully, it’ll be better. Right now, it’s just paperwork and people pretending they matter.”
I chuckled. “Welcome to adulthood.”
He rolled his eyes. “Says the guy who’s basically running an orphanage.”
That made me grin. “At least my meetings involve actual humans instead of balding men in suits.”
He huffed a laugh, then leaned back. “You ever realise how many heirs go to our uni?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What, two? Three?”
He shook his head. “More than that.”
I shrugged. “You, me… who else?”
He pointed his fork at me. “There’s me, airline. You, shipping and logistics. Then there’s Miles Miller, the healthcare bastard who’s practically got almost half of America’s hospitals under his name. That’s three.”
I nodded. “And Matthew Gray.”
Alex squinted. “Who the hell’s Matthew Gray?”
I laughed. “Miles’s best friend. Architect and development heir or some shit. Billion-dollar family. Golden boy.”
“Ohhh right,” Alex said, snapping his fingers. “The quiet one. Doesn’t talk much. Always looks like he’s thinking about taxes.”
“Yeah, him.”
“I thought Miles’s only hobby was breaking hearts,” Alex said. “Didn’t realise his best friend builds buildings.”
“Yeah, he builds shit while Miles breaks shit.”
Alex smirked. “The perfect duo.”
I nodded, resting back against the booth. “So that’s us, huh? The four. Me, you, Miles, Matthew. Four heirs.”
“The golden fuckers of Silverwood.”
I shook my head, biting back a laugh. “Don’t say that out loud, it sounds like a porno.”
He chuckled a little. “Fair.”
I looked out the window, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Still weird, though. Out of thousands of students, only four of us built empires that touch the billions.”
Alex shrugged. “Four spoilt idiots in a sea of rich kids with lawyer dads and surgeon moms.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Four heirs.”
He raised his glass one last time. “To the Silverwood Heirs, then.”
I smirked, tapping mine to his. “The golden boys and the assholes.”
Life sucked.
It just did.
People leave, promises break, and sometimes you ruin the one thing that made you feel human again.
But sitting here, trading insults and sarcasm with Alex?
It made it suck a little less.
Maybe that’s what brothers were for: the people who know you’re losing your mind but act like everything’s normal, anyway.
He finally looked up and caught me staring. “What?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. Just thinking about how you’re still ugly after all these years.”
He grinned. “Yeah, and yet I still pull more than you do. Mister Twenty But Still a Virgin.”
I laughed, standing up as he threw a few bills on the table. “Let’s get out of here before your ego breaks the glass.”
He laughed, bumping his shoulder against mine as we walked out.