Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
JULIE
Devon moves through the house like a ghost, quiet and withdrawn. She eats when we eat, sits with us in the living room in the evenings, but she's like a lost girl. Asher checks on her constantly, asking if she needs anything, if she's okay. She doesn't say much.
I try to give them space. I go to work, come home, make dinner, wash up after. I don't push. I don't ask questions. I’m just as steady as I can be, for both of them. It’s what I’d appreciate someone doing for me if the situations were reversed.
We need life in this house, something different to hold onto, so Ryan and Jamie are coming over for a barbecue. I thought it would be good to have people around, to break up the heaviness that's settled over the house. Asher agreed, though he seemed distracted when I suggested it.
The doorbell rings at six. I wipe my hands on a dish towel and head to the front door. Ryan's standing there with a woman I’ve never met. She's pretty—brunette, warm smile, wearing a dress that looks effortless. Ryan's hand rests lightly on her lower back.
"Julie," he says. "This is Anna."
"Hi!" Anna extends her hand. "It's so nice to meet you. Ryan's told me so much about you all."
"Nice to meet you too." I shake her hand, then step back to let them in. "Come on in."
Ryan moves past me, and I reach out to hug him. He returns it briefly, but then clears his throat and pulls back, his hands dropping to his sides almost immediately. "Thanks for having us," he says.
"Of course. Jamie should be here any minute."
Anna follows me into the kitchen, chatting easily about the drive over, about how beautiful the neighborhood is. She's personable and genuine, and I find myself liking her immediately.
"What do you do?" I ask as I pull wine glasses from the cabinet.
"I'm a veterinarian. Small animal practice in Ballard."
"That's amazing. Do you love it?"
"Most days." She laughs. "Though I could do without the occasional bite."
Ryan's watching us from across the kitchen, his expression unreadable. When I glance at him, he looks away.
This is the seventh or eighth woman Ryan's brought around since I met him. The only one I really remember was Kiera because she came to our wedding. None of them ever seem to last more than a few weeks. Asher calls them his "fuck and forgets," which always makes me wince.
None of them are ever blonde, I realize suddenly. Always brunettes or redheads. Never blonde. Huh. I guess the attraction I thought I felt when we met really was all in my head.
Jamie arrives a few minutes later with a salad and a bottle of wine. She pulls me into a hug and whispers, "You look exhausted."
Her, I hold onto even longer. I feel adrift. I keep this kind of big emotion from my mom, but my sister is my rock.
"I am."
"We need to talk later. Just you and me."
I nod, grateful. Asher is out on the back deck, grilling burgers. Devon is sitting at the patio table, scrolling through her phone. She's wearing shorts and a tank top, her hair loose around her shoulders.
Ryan, Anna, and Jamie follow me outside. Asher looks up and nods at Ryan. "Hey, man."
"Hey. How're you holding up?"
"Doing good."
There's an awkward pause. Then Ryan gestures to Anna. "This is Anna. Anna, this is Asher."
Anna smiles warmly. "Thanks so much for having me."
Asher gives her a polite smile, says hey, and then turns back to the grill. Ryan sets a six-pack of beer on the table and cracks one open.
"Need any help with the grill?" Ryan asks.
"I've got it."
Jamie sits down next to Devon. "How are you doing?"
Devon looks up, her expression carefully neutral. "I'm okay. Thank you for asking."
"If you ever need to talk, I'm here. Julie's so happy you're safe and here with them."
Devon's eyes flick to me for just a fraction of a second. There's something in that look—something cold, dismissive—before she turns back to Jamie, her expression smoothing out. "Okay. Thanks."
I watch the exchange, feeling the weight of that look. That split-second glance at me, that barely concealed curl of her lip, lingers in a way I can't quite explain. It felt like she was looking down on me. But that doesn't make any sense at all.
We eat on the deck, the conversation light and careful. Ryan asks Asher about work. Jamie asks Devon about school. Anna tells a funny story about a Pomeranian who ate an entire stick of butter. I refill wine glasses and try to pretend everything is normal.
But it's not normal. I can feel it in the way Asher keeps glancing at Devon, checking to make sure she's okay.
In the way Devon leans slightly toward him when she talks, her body language open and trusting.
But when I make a comment about the salad Jamie brought, Devon's eyes roll so briefly I almost miss it. Almost.
And then there's the way she shifts her body when I sit back down, angling away from me, toward Asher. It's subtle. Asher doesn't notice. But I do. What the fuck?
Ryan is quiet, watching. When I reach over to touch Asher's arm—just a casual gesture, nothing significant—Ryan's attention shifts. I catch it out of the corner of my eye and notice that he looks uncomfortable before he looks away.
After dinner, Jamie pulls me into the kitchen under the pretense of getting dessert. "Okay," she says, closing the door behind us. "What the hell is going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"Julie. Come on. Asher's acting weird. And that girl..."
"Devon. Her name is Devon."
"Right, that girl. You didn't tell me she was... whatever the fuck she is. Her attitude's subtle, but it's there. And the way she is with Asher? It creeps me the hell out. She looks at him like I used to look at Harry Styles."
I frown. That seems awfully dramatic. "Come on. She's grieving, Jamie. She just lost her mother."
"I know that. But he looks like he's about to crack, and she's almost playing into it. Like she's making him worse. He needs to snap out of it."
I lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. "He's just doing what he thinks is right. Devon needs support."
I can see she wants to say something, but after taking in my body language, she nods. "Okay. But let's put a pin in this, because I have a feeling we're going to wind up coming back to it."
I nod... and hope she's wrong.
We bring out the dessert, and the conversation shifts to safer topics.
Anna asks about the shop, and I tell her about the new line of bath bombs we're developing.
She's genuinely interested, asking thoughtful questions.
But I notice Ryan watching Asher and Devon, his expression unreadable.
When he catches my eye, he gives me a small, tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
After Ryan and Anna leave, Asher helps me clean up. Devon has gone upstairs to her room. The house is quiet.
"That was nice," I say, loading plates into the dishwasher.
"Yeah."
"Anna seems great."
Asher chortles. "Don't bother getting attached."
I look up at him. "What?"
"Come on, Jules, stop making me say it. You know the deal. Ryan's dates are interchangeable. He's a playboy. Next time he brings a date, it'll be someone else."
"That's kind of harsh."
"It's true." He closes the dishwasher and leans against the counter. "Ryan goes through women like most people go through socks. Anna's nice enough, but she won't last. None of them do."
I think about Kiera. About the other women whose names I can't even remember. He's right. Ryan never seems to keep anyone around for long. "I guess," I say quietly.
"Trust me. A guy like that doesn't change. He likes variety too much. Easy pussy for the win."
I cringe. But before I can respond, his phone rings.
He pulls it out of his pocket and frowns at the screen. "It's the attorney. I need to take this."
He steps into the living room, and I hear his voice, low and tense. I finish loading the dishwasher and wipe down the counters, trying not to listen. But his voice gets louder, sharper.
"What do you mean, a year? That doesn't make any sense."
I move closer to the doorway, my heart starting to pound.
"No, I need to know why. What's the reason? Is this some kind of test?"
There's a pause. Then Asher's voice rises. "That's not an answer. I need details. I need to know what's in the Living Trust. How the fuck is this even legal?"
Another pause. Longer this time. "Fine. Fine. But this is ridiculous. My father is dead, and you're telling me I have to wait a year to find out what he left behind? That's insane."
He hangs up and stands there, staring at his phone. Then he throws it onto the couch and runs both hands through his hair.
"Asher?" I step into the room. "What happened?"
"My father had a living trust instead of a traditional will. And according to the way it’s set up, no one will know who gets what for a fucking year."
I freeze. "What?"
"The attorney just told me. It's in my father's instructions. The Living Trust details can't be disclosed or read until one year after his death. No exceptions."
"Why?"
"I don't know. The attorney just said it's what my father wanted. That everything will be explained when the time comes."
Asher starts pacing, his hands clenched into fists. "It's a test. It has to be. Some fucked-up game he's playing from beyond the grave. He wants to see if I can handle the company without knowing what I'm inheriting. Or maybe he's punishing me for something. I don't know."
I should tell him. I should tell him right now about the gift, about the trap, about everything. He's going to find out eventually. And when he does, he'll know I kept it from him and he'll be hurt that his dad did that and I didn't fill him in.
I open my mouth to speak. And then my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket, my hands shaking. The number on the screen is unfamiliar, but the area code is local.
"I guess I should take this," I say.
Asher waves a hand, still pacing. I step into the kitchen and answer.
"Mrs. Stevens?" The voice is male, professional, measured.
"Yes?"
"This is Gregory Hale. I'm the attorney handling Dean Stevens' estate. I'm calling because I need to inform you of something important regarding your late father-in-law's arrangements."
My stomach drops. "Okay."
"As you may know, Mr. Stevens made certain provisions for you prior to his death. Specifically, the payment of your business loan and the purchase of the commercial property where your shop is located."
"Yes."
"Those provisions, along with the conditions attached to them, will be disclosed in the reading of details of Mr. Stevens' living trust. However, I need to make something very clear to you, Mrs. Stevens.
You are not to disclose any details of this arrangement to your husband prior to the distribution. "
"The terms of the trust are explicit on this point. Mr. Stevens intended for all parties to learn of the full scope of his bequests simultaneously. Any premature disclosure could be considered a violation of the estate's terms."
I can't breathe. "You're telling me to stay silent?"
"That's correct. I understand this may be difficult, but it's a legal matter. The estate's instructions are binding."
"But he's going to find out eventually. When the Living Trust details are distributed."
"Yes. And at that time, all parties will be informed together. Until then, I must advise you to remain silent on this matter."
"What if I don't? What if I tell him anyway?"
There's a pause. "I can't advise you on the specific consequences, but I can tell you that Mr. Stevens was very particular about how this information was to be handled. I strongly recommend you comply with his wishes."
I say goodbye to him in a daze. When I lower the phone and turn around, Asher is standing in the doorway, watching me.
"Who was that?" he asks.
"Nobody. Just... a work thing. Delayed inventory."
He studies my face. "You look upset."
"I'm fine. Just annoyed that there's a holdup."
He knows something is wrong. He just doesn't know what. But I can see that he's not going to dig. "Okay," he says finally. "If you say so."
He turns and walks back into the living room. I hear him pick up his phone, hear him start making another call.
I stand there in the kitchen, alone, trapped in yet another Dean Stevens created shitshow.