Chapter 1
SAGE
I’m called in for the reading of my parents’ last will and testament three days after they die. I haven’t even had a chance to process the loss, but I put on a fresh pair of leggings and swipe some mascara over my lashes to give some semblance of stability.
When I arrive at the law office of Maxwell and Marks, I find that I’m the only family member to show up.
My aunt and uncle have dodged my last few calls for some reason, and I feel more alone than ever.
Even being in my last year of college, I’m still relatively close with my family since I stayed in my hometown to attend UCLA.
I take my seat across the desk of one of the lawyers—I couldn’t tell you which one—and give a small smile to feign strength after the hardest thing I’ve ever faced.
“Welcome, Miss Lindman,” the greying man says, tapping a finger on the stack of papers before him. “Today I’ll read your parents’ will, and if you have any questions, we can go over them at the end. It’s important that we get through this before pulling focus, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, crossing one leg over the other. “Thank you.”
He smiles softly, but it feels forced, then clears his throat as he picks up the papers and starts to read. “I’ll begin on page eight, which begins the Simultaneous Death Clause. It gives direction for if both your father and mother died at the same time.”
“Okay,” I say again, even though I don’t think he was looking for a response.
“Upon the unexpected deaths of both myself, Andrew Lindman, and my wife, Christine Spencer Lindman, the following may be followed,” the lawyer begins.
“We give and bequeath all monetary and physical possessions, including all property and ownership of all bank accounts, not limited to checking and savings, to my brother, Aaron Lindman.”
I blink, not quite understanding. “What?”
“Please, let’s get to the end,” he says, looking back down at the papers.
“If our death comes before our daughter has graduated from college, we request that her tuition be paid in full to Blackmore University from our personal savings account, and control of her college fund given to Joyce Spencer to supply everything else she may need.”
My eyebrows pull down, my teeth pressing into my bottom lip so I don’t interrupt him a second time, even though I desperately want to.
The sound of flipping papers is the only noise as the lawyer looks through the rest of the will, then he flips them all back to page one and wordlessly tidies them into a neat stack before looking up at me. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Sage.”
“Hold on,” I finally say, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. “That’s it? Who’s Joyce Spencer?”
He looks down at the papers, flipping a few again. “Not sure. It doesn’t say anything else.”
My head shakes on its own as I blurt out, “What? What kind of lawyer are you?”
He clears his throat, looking up at me. “That’s all that’s in the will, Miss Lindman. I suggest getting in contact with your uncle for everything else you may need since he was their beneficiary.”
“So what… I just have nothing and no money?” I ask, a pit forming in my stomach. “And where’s Blackmore University? I go to UCLA.”
He turns, then types on his keyboard. A moment later, he speaks again. “Looks like Blackmore University is in Georgia.”
There’s a small knock at the door, and we both turn in time to see it slide open and my aunt’s face pop through the crack. I jump up. “Oh my god, Aunt Bev—” I throw myself at her, and she hugs me. “Thank god, you’re here. This isn’t making any sense to me.”
She squeezes me for a moment, grief in her gaze when she pulls back. “I’m sorry I’m late, sweetie. It’s been a long few days.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, walking back to the seat I was just in, eyeing her as she shakes hands with the lawyer, introduces herself, and then she sits down as well.
“Nothing to worry about now.” She looks at the lawyer. “Have you read the will yet?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I’ve explained to Sage that all monetary and physical possessions will go to Aaron Lindman.”
“Good.” Aunt Bev nods, then she looks at me. “Unfortunately, you’ll only have a few days to get your belongings together before your flight.”
“What?” I balk, eyes widening as they search hers. “What are you talking about?”
“To Georgia,” she answers simply. “The semester’s already begun, so your uncle didn’t want to wait too long to get you there.”
“What are you talking about, Aunt Bev?!” My temples pound with confusion and irritation. “I’m not moving to Georgia. I go to UCLA! And who the fuck is Joyce Spencer?”
She presses her lips together in thought, then she sighs softly. “You don’t have a choice, Sage. Your bank accounts have been locked, your trust fund frozen, and your tuition will only be paid to Blackmore University beginning now. The will was clear.”
“Well, fuck the will!” I shout, frustration rattling through me. “I’m twenty-one years old, I’m not a child. Uncle Aaron will have to give me control of everything.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she says, her expression turning bored. “We’ll send a car to get you in a few days. Pack what you need.”
She stands, and I shoot up, anger turning my vision dark. “You can’t force me to leave my home.”
Pity pinches her features as she tips her head to the side. But there’s something else there too, something cold and distant. “It isn’t yours anymore.”
I shortly realize that Aunt Bev wasn’t kidding—there’s a FOR SALE sign on the front lawn of my parents’ 10,000-square-foot home in the hills when I pull my BMW onto the driveway that afternoon.
I make it a point to walk through the perfectly manicured lawn and yank out the sign, throwing it down with a grunt.
Dialing my closest friend’s phone number, I put the phone to my ear as I push inside the house, kicking my shoes off in the foyer.
She answers on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Can you ask your lawyer boyfriend a question for me, Sam?” I say, dropping down on the couch.
“His name is Todd. He’s not a lawyer; he’s just a law student, and you’ve met him all three times you’ve visited New York… Are you okay? Did something happen at the reading of the will?”
“Is he there?” I ask, desperation in my tone, ignoring her questions.
“Hold on.” I hear her shout for him, then a minute later, she puts me on speakerphone. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Hi, Todd. Say my parents left everything they owned and all their money to my uncle, then wrote in their will that my college tuition would only be paid if I went to a certain school… Could that be enforced?”
“What!?” Sam screeches.
“Well,” Todd starts, “I guess it would be up to your uncle, really. He could make the choice to just ignore the instruction.”
“Right, right, right,” I say mindlessly as I chew on my bottom lip.
“What the fuck happened?” Sam presses, and I laugh.
My laughter increases the more I think about the meeting I just had, and when I’m full-belly laughing and the couch is shaking, I start to feel like maybe I’m stuck in a nightmare.
“Uh…” Sam says hesitantly, her voice softening. “Are you okay, Sage?”
I wipe the tears in my eyes, and I have no idea if they’re from laughing or from the bone-deep sadness I feel. “I don’t fucking know. I think I’m moving to Georgia.”
My uncle dodges me for three days, even after fifty-six missed calls.
Then, on Sunday morning, I wake up to an email from him.
SUBJECT: My Dearest Sage
BODY: I hope one day you’ll understand the decision I’ve made to send you to Georgia, Sage, and the fact that I can’t see you before you go…
Your tuition is paid in full for the rest of your education at Blackmore University, and I’ve notified UCLA that you’re transferring.
They’re expecting you next week at BU—and since the school year has already begun, you’ll need to live with your grandmother for the rest of the year.
She knows you’re coming, and she’s excited to see you.
I’ll release some money for you, and your car will be shipped. The house has been sold.
Please know that I love you, Sage.
Blackmore will be good for you. A driver will pick you up at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. Don’t miss your flight.
All my love,
Uncle Aaron
There’s hot, fat tears rolling down my cheeks when I finish reading the email, disbelief coursing through me. Immediately, I switch to the phone app and click on my uncle’s name.
It rings twice, then goes to voicemail.
“I’m sorry, the person you are trying to rea—”
I hang up, then dial again.
It rings three times, then I get the same automated message.
“I’m sorry, the person you ar—”
With a groan, I click his contact, dialing a third time.
This time, I get a different message.
“The number you have dialed is not in service, please check the number and try again. Goodbye.” Then it hangs up, beeping loudly in my ear.
I scream, the reaction surprising me as I throw my phone at full force against the wall to my left, hearing it smash.
Tears continue to stream down my cheeks, frustration and disbelief and genuine sadness making my limbs feel heavy.
Crawling from my bed, I drop to the floor to grab my phone, the screen cracked in multiple places. When I dial Sam’s number this time, she answers on the first ring. “Good morning, do you know what time it is?”
“It’s official… I’m moving to Georgia,” I say, lying flat on my back on the carpet, crying harder now.
“My uncle blocked my number or something, said my tuition is only getting paid if I go to some school in Georgia, and what am I supposed to do? My bank account has been frozen, my parents left me nothing and my house has already sold.”
“He sold the house?!” she nearly shrieks, and I shake with sobs.
“And unenrolled me from UCLA.”
“What?! How can he even do that?”
“Everything I love is just…gone.” I cry louder, curling to my side to hug my knees to my chest. “My fucking parents are dead, my fucking house isn’t mine anymore, and I’m being forced to leave the place I was born, the only fucking home I’ve ever known.”
Half the words aren’t understandable as emotions barrels through me in painful waves that makes it hard to breathe.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I ask, and she’s silent, probably unable to find a single answer to that question. Because, really there isn’t one. She waits until my sobs have slowed, and then she finally speaks.
“When are you supposed to leave?”
I take a deep, shaky breath, feeling the weight of the world on my chest as I answer. “Tomorrow morning.”