Page 29 of Westward

Soil dug its way underneath my nails, and I groaned. I should have taken the time to put on my gloves, but they were on the other side of the garage, and I had been lazy. Or maybe just tired.

I had been tired more often than not these days, and there was no big surprise as to why.

The paperwork and bureaucracy of death would tire anyone.

It hadn’t mattered that my parents had made sure that all of their ducks were in a row, their paperwork complete, our town lawyer prepared with everything they needed. It hadn’t mattered that Felicity, our family and town accountant, had been set to go with everything needed for certain aspects of death and what came with it. No, the paperwork would always be there. Dragging out and wanting everything from me.

I’d been forced to write an obituary, and then what I was supposed to say at the wake. I had countless casseroles and other reheatable items in my freezer that didn’t sound appetizing in the slightest. And there were numerous other small things to remind me that, yes, my parents were dead, and I needed to deal with whatever happened next.

But that wasn’t the only thing on my mind, and perhaps that’s why I wasn’t sleeping anymore.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to dig that up,” Teagan said from beside me and pointed to what I thought was a weed.

“It’s spiky.” That meant it had to be a weed, right?

“Hold on, let me look it up. I think it’s actually important.”

“We both really shouldn’t be part of this whole gardening thing,” I said before I leaned back on my heels and wiped my forehead with my arm. I knew from the moment that I did it, I had just spread dirt on my face, but that couldn’t be helped.

“Yes, this one’s kind of important. It helps with erosion and drought.”

“I really need to start reading more books about planting, I think.”

Teagan smiled. “You read so many books. Even more than me.”

“Well, I’m glad my English degree can help with something,” I teased.

“That is true. I don’t really need an English degree with my current job, do I?”

I gave Teagan an odd look. “Is everything okay?”

My friend smiled at me before clearing any expression from her face. “Of course it is. And you shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

“Please let me do that. Atlas has taken over, making Will’s life easier, along with Rune. And everybody keeps showing up and being so kind. I realize that makes me sound ridiculous, but I just want to help others. And yet every time I look, somebody is here helping me garden, or bringing me cookies, or making sure I’m never alone because once I’m alone, all I want to do is cry and realize that I’m alone in this stupid town that I love so stupidly much. And stupidly isn’t even a word.”

Teagan blinked at me, and I realized I had stood up and had practically shouted the last part.

“Would you like me to make you a mimosa?”

I pressed my lips together, trying not to cry or laugh. Frankly, at this point, I wasn’t sure what the answer would be.

“I don’t want to drink during the week because then I feel like I will lean into it. I never have before, but there’s a first time for everything.”

Teagan stood up and hugged me tightly. I smiled into her, grateful for my friend. I felt like a jerk, not being able to be there for everybody in my life when I was dealing with this thing called grief, but as people stood for me, I realized there was a reason that I lived in Ashford Creek—and not just because Atlas didn’t.

Teagan’s phone buzzed at that moment, and she sighed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as she pulled out her phone.

“Just hell. I mean, it’s my own fault, I proved that I knew what I was doing, and now I get to do everything.”

I winced as Teagan answered her phone, and I realized her manager, and the owner of the gift shop that she ran, was once again needing her for something.

I knew Teagan had had bigger dreams when she had been younger; then again, so had I. But when her family had been dealt one too many blows, she had stayed in town, finding whatever job she could to help raise her younger siblings. Callum had gone off to play in the NFL so he could support the family financially, but Teagan had stayed behind for them physically. Briar had left along with Malcolm, both of them needing to leave the watching eyes of their late father. That man had hated his children and had hurt Briar and Malcolm in ways that I knew it would take years for them to recover. And then Malcolm had died, and Briar had been hurt along the way. But now she was married, a mother, and a Grammy Award-winning songwriter. She had her life and visited when she could. She’d made a whole new set of family with the Wilders down in Texas, and I was only a little jealous. Because her family had grown exponentially, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next. Teagan, however, had stayed. Just like I had. And while I loved my job, even though the hours were long, and dealing with parents sometimes made me want to pull my hair out, I felt fulfilled. I didn’t think Teagan did. She ran the gift shop under the watchful yet neglectful eye of the owner she was currently on the phone with. I knew she’d also helped her family members each start businesses of their own, her experience and genius sometimes quiet in the shadow of her louder siblings.

But that was Teagan, always there for you, no matter what.

“I have to go. I’m sorry.”