Page 170 of The Way I Hate Him
She nods. “And the whole time I was lying in Cassidy’s room, staring up at the ceiling, all I could think about was how much I wish I didn’t have to go back to school at the end of the summer.” She shakes her head. “I really don’t want to go back, Hayes.”
“Then don’t,” I say.
“I wish that were the case, but . . . something in the will says I can’t help Aubree until I graduate. Like how can that even be enforced? And I get that school was important to her, especially since she never went, but . . . it’s almost like I’m being punished.” Tears start to cloud her eyes. “You know I helped Cassidy build the store, right? I spent a whole summer laying down flooring, painting, stocking, and baking hundreds and hundreds of cookies. The Almond Store was a product of us both.”
“I know,” I say softly.
“And . . . and she just left it to Aubree. I don’t understand. She left everyone something. She sent you a letter, Abel, Aubree, Ryland . . . but nothing for me. Why?” Tears start falling down her cheeks. “I’ll be honest, Hayes. One reason I’ve gone through everything so carefully in here was because I was looking for something, anything from her that might have been addressed to me but got lost in the mix.” She shakes her head. “Nothing. She was . . . was practically my mother, the one who raised me, loved me, made sure that I understood what love was, yet she left me with nothing.”
“I’m so sorry,” I reply, not sure what else to say, because what is there really to say? Hattie’s right. Cassidy left her nothing, and she’s allowed to have those feelings of discontentment. I know she’s not jealous about not getting anything financially, because Hattie isn’t like that. But sentimentally, I agree with Hattie. Why didn’t she get a letter when everyone else did?
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I was doing so great and then I just lost it on you at the end.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “I’m here to support you for moments like that. And your feelings are valid, Hattie. I wish I could tell you why she didn’t leave you a letter or put restrictions in the will, but I can’t. All I can say is that you doing this, you taking care of your brother and giving him a space to be while he takes care of Mac, this is something Cassidy would be proud of. This is something she’d be smiling about. So focus on that, because you don’t want to cloud your thoughts with the negativity, with questions about something you can’t change. It will drive you crazy. Trust me on this. I’ve been there.”
“You’re right.” She nods. “I’m finally finding some peace with Cassidy’s passing. I don’t want to add anything negative to it.” She sighs. “And she should be proud of this, proud of how I took deep care of her items, the thought that went into how to preserve everything for Mac. She would have loved this, especially since the end goal is to give something to Ryland that he’d never give to himself.”
“He wouldn’t.” I’ve known Ryland long enough to understand that he’d sleep on that couch for the rest of his life if he had to. He’s always put family first, friends first, everyone else first besides himself. It’s time someone put him first. “And hey, the whole college thing, that’s something we can cross when the time is right.”
“We?” she asks, a raise to her brow.
“Yes . . . we,” I reply. “I’m in this for the long run, Hattie. As long as you’ll have me, I’m here.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, and I bring her in even closer. “I knew you had a heart beyond all of the blackness you try to hide behind. Why do you not show it?”
“Afraid of getting hurt,” I admit.
“Why trust me then?” she asks.
Because you have a heart of gold. Because you are such an unexpected wonder in my life.
I want to say many things to Hattie, but perhaps this is the most honest answer I have.
“You haven’t given me a reason not to.”
I kiss the top of her head, and we spend the next few minutes just like that, with her on my lap and me holding her close.
* * *
“Thank you for your help,”Hattie says as I set down a reusable bag full of food and some toiletries Hattie needed to pick up.
Our last stop of the day was Target where we spent an exorbitant amount of time looking over bedding, curtains, sheets . . . pillows. We went back and forth over table lamps, nightstands, rugs, even an extension cord because there isn’t an outlet close enough to the bed for Ryland to plug his phone in, but Hattie wasn’t sure which one to get. And then of course, she decided he needed an alarm clock that would help him sleep better, not sure how that works, but Jesus Christ, I nearly lost my mind in there.
The only reason I survived was because halfway through, I went and got myself some popcorn and a drink and enjoyed Hattie second-guessing every choice she was making because she needed to make the room perfect.
And in the end, when she went to pay, I handed her my card and said it was on me.
She refused . . . dramatically.
But I won because no way in hell would I allow her to pay, not when I forced her to put a record player in the cart, as well as two of my records which, frankly, I thought was hilarious. Ryland and I haven’t hung out in a while. He needs to catch up on what I’ve been doing.
“You’re welcome,” I say as I slip my shoes off.
She glances down at my feet. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, did you think I was going to head home?” I shake my head and reach into the bag only to pull out a toothbrush. “Forgot to pack myself this, but I’m good to go now.”
“What do you mean you forgot to pack that?”
