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It’s a keepsake box that my mom used to stash random things in, like jewelry, birth certificates, social security cards, family photos, and the like. It’s about the size of a hardback book with a tree carved into the top. I open it, expecting to find the aforementioned things, but instead, I find a manila envelope with my name on it.
Dread. It creeps into me slowly, occupying every part of my being, as my shaky hands reach out to pick it up. It’s heavier than I would have thought. I peel it open, dumping the contents onto the floor, and the first thing that spills out is money. A lot of it. I don’t count it, but it has to at least be a few thousand dollars. What the fuck, Dad?
The next thing I notice is a folded-up piece of paper. I unfold it to find a letter written in my Dad’s handwriting.
Asher,
If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone. I’ve known it was coming for a while now. Expected it, and accepted it, even. I never thought I’d get the chance to make amends with you before my time was up, and maybe we didn’t, but I want you to know that I died happy, having had somewhat of a second chance with you.
I didn’t do much right as a father or a human, and I know I can’t take credit for the man you’ve become, but you’ve made me proud nonetheless. I failed you in so many ways, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. Know that it was never your fault, even when I couldn’t see it myself.
The cash enclosed is what Alexander Vale offered me to have you sent away. I knew I couldn’t say no. He would have had you thrown in jail, or worse. I thought by making you leave, I was doing the right thing by you. But I’ve never been good at making the right calls; that was your mother’s department.
I never spent a dime of this money and always intended for this to be yours. Same with the house. Burn it, sell it, keep it, whatever you want, because it’s yours.
I guess this is the part in the letter where I should impart some words of wisdom. The truth is, I’ve never been very wise, but I’ll give it a try.
I hope that when love finds you, and I suspect that it already has, you’re able to hold on to it forever. And if, for some god-forsaken reason you lose it, you don’t end up like me. Don’t let it break you. You’re stronger than that. Stronger than me.
Second chances don’t come around very often. Third chances are even more rare. If you’re lucky enough to get one, don’t waste it.
I hope that when you become a father, you forget everything you learned from me. Love like your mother. Love like Briar. Love like you.
And most importantly, never piss in the wind.
Love, Dad
I drop the letter and attempt to sort out the emotions that slam into me all at once, fighting for the spotlight. I feel sad and angry and relieved and hopeful and…at peace. Closure. That’s what this must be. I feel like I can finally let go of it all. All of the loss, all the grief, all the bad.
For the first time in my adult life, I decide to take my father’s advice. I’m not letting my chance with Briar slip away. But first, I have some things I need to take care of.
Chapter 21
Briar
He’s gone. For good. I know this is what I wanted, or what I need to happen, rather, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Adrian admitted to me the other day that he’d been in contact with Asher. I wasn’t mad. I was curious. Maybe a little jealous, but not mad. My brother, on the other hand, has been a bit more stubborn. I can’t pretend to know what it would feel like to have my best friend lie to me, but I’d like to think that if the roles were reversed and Nat and Dash wanted to be together, I wouldn’t stand in their way. It would be weird and a completely different dynamic, but who am I to tell them what they can and can’t do? Dash argues that it’s different.
Adrian told Dash that Asher had gone back to River’s Edge a few days ago. I don’t know what I expected. For him to fight for me and pine for me forever? To stay in this town where he has almost no one? Of course not. But it stings.
I’m listening to “Glycerine” on repeat, feeling sorry for myself, when Adrian calls, interrupting my song.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, using his nickname for me.
“Hey, Ade.”
“What are you up to today?”
“I have the day off, so I’m just hanging out at Nat’s.”
“What do I have to do to get you to come have lunch with your favorite brother-slash-lover?”
I laugh, despite the morose mood I’ve been in for the last few weeks.
“Never say that again and you’ve got yourself a deal. Where do you want to meet?”
“I’ll text you the address. See you in an hour?”
“Sounds good.”
