Page 154 of The Other Side of Green

“I’m only concerned with those stated in the will, and your mother isn’t one of those.”

“But Grams didn’t have any assets,” I repeated faintly almost to myself.

“Her will states otherwise. There’s the house, which passes to you. And when your grandfather died we reinvested his final insurance payout. It’s been earning for the last eleven years untouched in a high interest bond account. Your brother will receive the same as the current market valuation of the house from the bond and any further profits will be split between you.” He paused while his words sunk in. “It’s earned well over the years.”

“Well,” I muttered. “But Grams didn’t have any money. That’s why she wore the same damn dress for decades; every spare penny went to Luca and I.”

The lawyer coughed, clearing a phlegmy throat. “That way well have been how it appeared, but I can assure you we are settling her probate account and on top of the value of the property you and your brother have also been left just over one hundred thousand dollars in investments between you.”

My legs wobbled and I leaned back against the grimy wall.

“What?” Don’t say what, say pardon, Grams critiqued with a tut and a suck of her teeth, but I couldn’t say anything other than, “What?”

“You have just over one hundred thou—”

“I heard you.” I cut him off, my hand gripping my cell shaking.

“We will need to organize a meeting to transfer the deeds of ownership.” His words faded in and out of focus, static on a radio where the bandwidth no longer existed. I couldn’t wake up. “Lyra?”

“Sorry, this is a lot to take in.” I blinked, clearing my vision. “Oh crap it’s my bus. I’ve got to go. Can I call you when I’ve got back?”

“Back where?” There was another deep rumble of a laugh.

I thought of the little house with the back door that rattled, the porch that caught the late afternoon sun, the fence painted the blue of my heart, the small bedroom that looked directly into the house opposite.

“Home. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Make sure you do. We need to finalize the papers.”

The bus pulled to a stop and whooshed open its doors. I waited in the queue and then clambered up the steps, heaving my duffel and violin case with me, on shaky legs. I showed the driver my one-way ticket to New Orleans and he nodded his head. Part of me wanted to turn and look back out of the door, but I knew I’d only see a memory of Jack.

I was doing the right thing. I was doing the right thing.

With me gone there was the slightest chance he could keep his job and get back to the future he was living before I turned up and flipped everything on its head. The future he deserved. The dreams he built for himself could come true.

When I got back. Once I’d sorted everything. Once my heart stopped hurting with the bruising ache of loving and losing maybe I’d make some dreams of my own.

Maybe. It seemed a long way off.

I lifted my bag to put it above my seat in the rack. It wobbled precariously, and I knew it was Grams’ box that made the weight uneven.

“Here, let me help you.”

I turned at the gruff voice, finding dirty greens blinking back at me.

“Jack?”

“You have got to stop running from me, Lyra.”

“But…” My words caught. “But I want you to live your dream.”

Jack shook his head, chuckling low, his gaze all over my face, searching and seeking, warming from the inside out. “You are my only dream. The only thing I have ever wanted.”

“But…”

He caught my face in his fingers, that gentle grasp that contradicted the rough edges of the rest of him. “No buts, only yes. Together. Always forever. That’s our only language from now on.” His gaze burned so bright, so intense in its brutal honesty, any argument I had died on the tip of my tongue.

“I was so naïve, Jack. I thought he would help us.” My eyes stung but I blinked the tears away. I didn’t want any obstruction from seeing his beautiful face.