Say the Word(132)

At the time, I didn’t question it. Selfishly, I was glad for Lux’s sacrifice, if it meant I had a shot.

Because of my sister, I lived.

We never saw the boy again.

And I never saw my sister again. At least, not whole and happy.

She puts on a brave face because she thinks that’s what the world needs to see. But deep down, she’s been hurt, badly, by love. And the true miracle is, despite her own heartbreaks, she’s still the most giving person I’ve ever known. I’m sure you’ve realized already how much she cares for those closest to her. Once you’ve found a place in Lux’s heart, she keeps you there forever.

So I ask you, please — for the sake of my sister, who gave up her happiness so I might live a few brief years — don’t hurt her. Don’t manipulate or lie to her. Don’t expect her to be something she’s not.

And, if that boy should ever come back into her life, don’t hate her if she still needs him, if she still loves him.

I won’t lie to you or tell you I didn’t try my best to get them back together — I wrote him letter after letter, all of which were “Returned to Sender” by the postal service. And you shouldn’t lie to yourself by pretending Lux is someone she isn’t.

She’s human, just like the rest of us. She has flaws, and baggage, and memories that give her sleepless nights, and far, far more than her fair share of grief to deal with.

I hope that if she’s found you, it means she can finally put some of that to rest. I hope you’ll not take this letter as an attack or a warning against loving her — because that would truly be your loss. I hope, more than anything, that she’s found someone who completes her again.

Please — take care of her for me.

Oh, and here’s a free piece of advice: if you give her a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and a bottle of Merlot, she’s far easier to deal with. Especially during “that time of the month.”

You’re welcome.



Jamie



PS: Bash, if it’s you reading this, you should know I’m grinning down at you right now, buddy. I knew it all along — you guys were always meant to find your way back. I miss you, my friend. But I’ll rest easier knowing our girl is in good hands.



The tears streaking down my face blurred the page in front of me until I could no longer read the words.

He’d known. Jamie had known all along.

Not just about the deal I’d made, but that Sebastian and I would end up back together someday.

Overwhelmed by the tangle of emotions in my head, I turned my wet eyes to Bash. He’d stopped his pacing by the window and was looking at me with a kind of shell-shocked tenderness I’d never seen on his face before. Approaching me slowly, he knelt before me and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks with both of his thumbs.

“Jamie knew it. I know it. You know it.” His whispered words were intense as leaned in to touch his forehead against mine, our lips sharing the same breath. “We belong together. We always have.”

I nodded.

“I should’ve known,” Bash continued, his voice haunted by regret. “There was nothing you wouldn’t do for Jamie. It’s one of the things I always loved best about you. If I’d been in your shoes and someone handed me the money to save his life… I don’t know if I could’ve walked away from that deal either.”

“It wasn’t just the money, Bash.” I pulled away so I could meet his eyes. “No amount of money could’ve made me walk away from you.”

His brows lifted in question.

“Wait here for a second,” I whispered, pulling out of our embrace and walking over to the closet. I retrieved the lock box, grabbed my keys from my purse, and returned to the couch where Bash was waiting. He watched me open the box with intent eyes, and his surprise was evident when I removed the stapled contract from inside and handed it to him.

“What is this?” he asked, his eyes scanning the document.

“It’s a nondisclosure agreement.” I swallowed roughly. “I signed it when I was eighteen.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, flipping a page and reading on. “Who gave this to you?”

Fear of his reaction made me hesitate for a few seconds. “Your father,” I whispered eventually.

Bash’s head lifted and his eyes flew to mine. “What?”

I reached out and flipped past sheets of legal jargon to the last page of the contract, where a copy of the deed to my parents’ home in Georgia had been stapled. Andrew Covington’s signature was there, plain as day, registering him as the new owner of the house. Bash traced his index finger across his father’s signature, followed by the property address.

“He bought your house and threatened to evict your family,” Bash guessed, his voice bitter. “Dear old dad was far more cunning than I thought possible, back then.”

I grabbed Bash’s hand and entwined my fingers with his. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “My family…”

“Don’t apologize, Freckles.” Bash turned to me, his eyes dark but his voice soft. “None of this is your fault.”

“He made me promise never to contact you again. Never to return to Jackson or tell anyone about our agreement. He paid for Jamie’s care, right up until the end. He still controls my parents’ property. And…” I trailed off.