Chapter 3
NYLAH
Carson’s nervous. Poor guy is practically sick with tension. But he seriously doesn’t have anything to worry about.
Yes, the last few months have been harrowing.
I’m exhausted, and I can only imagine how he must be feeling.
I will never forget the day his mom called to tell us that his father was dying of cancer.
He’d been sick for months and hadn’t told anyone.
When Griffin first got released from jail, Carson had quietly hoped he might reach out to reconnect, but that was years ago, and he quickly gave up hope… until that call.
It was too little, too late, but Carson and I still went to see his dad.
He was pale and a shell of the man Carson once adored.
I stood on the edge of the room, fighting tears and cradling my pregnant belly as Carson sat rigid by his father’s bedside.
We didn’t bring the girls to meet their estranged grandfather. They’re only four, and we didn’t want to expose them to that. I’m so grateful we made that decision.
The poor man was practically gray. An emaciated human being who could barely speak.
He did manage to rasp out a few meaningful sentiments—soft apologies and shaky words of love.
Carson tried to stand strong, but his body eventually buckled, and as his father’s eyes drifted shut, he sniffed and trembled, silent tears trailing down his cheeks as he curled his fingers around the old man’s hand.
He wasn’t that old.
But he looked ancient in that bed.
I moved forward to comfort my husband, and we stayed by his father’s bedside until a nurse came through for his next round of medication.
He died two days later.
That was a month ago.
We’ve had the funeral, and now we’re just wrapping up the last of the loose ends at the lawyer’s office. The reading of the will got delayed for various reasons, but we’re finally here.
I limp into the room, leaning heavily on my cane. I really hate this thing, but I’m seven months pregnant now, and this baby is putting my body through the works. I thought the twins were bad enough, but they were tiny compared to this lump of a boy inside me.
My hips are taking the brunt of it, and the pain between my legs is constant. Add my once-crushed leg into the equation and I just can’t get away without my stupid cane.
“Please, take a seat.” The lawyer rushes around his desk, angling the chair for me so I can easily fall into it.
Carson steadies my arm, checking on me with a concerned look.
I nod, smiling at him and taking his hand. This moment isn’t about me. It’s about him and his mother.
Bree takes a seat on the other side of Carson, resting her hand on his shoulder and smiling at the lawyer.
“How are you, Kevin?”
“Yes, good, thank you, Breanna.”
“I’m glad we could finally find a time when we were all available for this reading.
I know it’s been delayed too many times.
I apologize for that.” Her smile is wide and calm.
She’s always been stunningly beautiful, and part of her prettiness comes from the way her personality shines through.
She’s sunshine… even in these cloudy times.
I adore her and am so grateful she’s here right now.
“It’s no problem.” The man smiles back at her.
“Can we get on with it?” Carson mutters. “We’ve got places to be this afternoon.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” The lawyer shuffles some files around before flipping open the one that holds the ever-important last will and testament of Griffin McAvoy.
Carson isn’t expecting much.
In fact, he resisted coming to this meeting for three full weeks, until I put my foot down and told him he had to.
“The guy wouldn’t have left me shit!” he argued back.
“That doesn’t matter. Your mom could use the support. You need to be there—for her and for yourself.” I eyeballed him, pointing my finger up at his face and putting on the voice my mother used when she was determined to get her way. “You’re going to that meeting, Carson McAvoy.”
He harrumphed at me like a grumpy old bear and stalked out of the room, slamming around in the garage until the girls got home from preschool.
Halfway through our evening meal, while the girls played with their carrot sticks and made mountains out of their mashed potatoes, Carson looked across the table at me and nodded once.
That was all the consent I was gonna get, but I smiled big and, later that night, told him how proud I was of him.
And I still am.
Curling my fingers around his, I give them a squeeze while the lawyer starts to read the document aloud.
I keep an eye on my husband’s face, staying attuned to his every emotion until his mouth pops open. I whip my head to face the lawyer and have to whisper, “What did you just say?” I blink as the lawyer pauses to glance up at me. “How much?”
“One-point-four million dollars.”
Now my mouth is dropping open. Swiveling to face Breanna, I bulge my eyes at her, double-checking that I’m hearing this right.
She nods, her eyes welling with tears. “And he left it all to Carson.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The lawyer smiles.
Carson clears his throat, shuffling in his seat and gripping my fingers like his life depends on it. “When? I mean, how?” He shakes his head, blinking furiously. “I mean, what the actual fuck?”
I can’t help a soft snicker as he turns to his mother.
“Did you know he was loaded?”
“Well, I mean, I…” She shrugs. “He had investments. When we were married, he was into that kind of stuff, and he’d squirrel away what little we had.”
“I thought it all got taken off him when he went to prison.”
“No.” The lawyer gives me a confident smile. “And after he got out, he seemed really determined to get his life back on track.”
Carson scoffs. “Is the money legal? He didn’t get it by—”
“No. This money has nothing to do with his past gang affiliations,” the lawyer assures us. “He was left a chunk of money when his parents passed away, and he put it to good use. It’s matured over the years, and you now have access to the lot.”
“Me?” Carson touches his chest. “Why would he do that?”
“Because you’re his family,” Bree replies. “He loved you. He always did.”
“But…” Slumping back in his chair, Carson runs a hand through his messy blond locks and mumbles, “He didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“He was convinced his stink would rub off on you, but he was wrong about that. And he came to see the truth… in the end,” Bree finishes softly, then points to the lawyer.
“This will… this money… it’s his gift to you, Carson.
Proof that he always cared for you. Even though he couldn’t show it, he…
” She bites her lips together, emotion getting the better of her.
“This is his love letter to you.” She sniffs.
“So you need to take this money, and you need to do something amazing with it.”
“Oh, yes, that’s in the will too.” The lawyer clears his throat. “I was just getting to that part.”
We all look up at him in unison while he reads the rest of the will and Griffin’s stipulation that the money has to go toward something Carson is passionate about. Some of it can be used to invest for the future, but a chunk has to be used for joy.
“He said that?” Carson’s voice is skeptical.
The lawyer chuckles. “Not in those exact words, but he made it clear that, you know, you must use this money for something special. You’re not allowed to use it up on a mortgage or day-to-day expenses. He wants you to spend it on a dream vacation or—”
“A garage,” I whisper. I have to say it.
Carson’s been wanting to run his own garage since he graduated from college and decided to change course and do a mechanics apprenticeship.
He’s spent years working for other people, but now that we’ve moved back to Nolan to be closer to my parents, he’s working for a complete pill, and he’s over it.
His passion has always been to start up a place that specializes in motorcycle repair and restoration. He wants this. I know he does, because he’s talked about it for years, never given up on the idea.
And now he can actually do it!
I give him an excited grin, squeezing his hand and mystified by why he’s not more excited about this.
Thanks to his dad, he can finally pursue his dream.
“Carson?” I give his hand a shake, trying to catch his eye, but he’s just staring at the floor, his cheeks draining of color.
I glance at Bree for backup, and she cringes at me before rubbing her hand across his shoulder. “Wow. Opening up your own business… a garage at that…” She grins. “That would be such a special way to honor your dad. He always was a motorhead.”
With an awkward little shuffle, I inch my chair closer to Carson’s and curl my free hand around his wrist.
“This is going to be so amazing.”
Finally looking up at me from the floor, his blue eyes blaze bright with trepidation, and my heart turns into a puddle of melted ice cream.
This man, always so unsure of how capable he is.
“You can do it, baby. You can do anything.” I lean forward and kiss him, hoping he’ll feel just how much I mean it.