Jackson gives my hand a small squeeze and I look at his apprehensive face. “I know you said we should do this today, but you’re pale and shaking.”

I’m shaking? I didn’t even notice.

“I’m just nervous because of all the possibilities. I don’t know what to expect. What if he had another kid and they’re here?” I somehow manage to choke the words out.

Stopping, he releases my hand and moves to cradle my head. My heart rate slows at his gentle touch. His eyes penetrate my fear and his voice is tender. “I’ll be here the whole time. All that’s going to happen is the lawyer will read the will, you’ll find out what you were left, and then we’ll go. No matter who else is here, if you don’t want to deal with them, you don’t. Okay?”

I give him a nod, trying to keep myself together while drawing strength from him.

We enter the office. It’s nondescript and simple—and empty. More than anything I’m grateful for this because if there were a long lost sister sitting here, I might have collapsed. Jackson’s strong hand grips mine. He’s pretty focused on making sure I’m not having an emotional breakdown. As long as he’s here, I’m okay.

Mr. Goldstein enters and shakes our hands. “Catherine, I’m Avi Goldstein. I’m the lawyer in charge of your father’s estate.”

“Nice to meet you. This is Jackson Cole, my …”

“Boyfriend,” Jackson finishes matter-of-factly.

My head whips around to look at him. Boyfriend? Well that was unexpected. After the last date we had, I guess it’s true, but it still shocks me. He didn’t hesitate or question, he seemed proud to say it. The smile on his face rocks me. I’m sure it mirrors mine, and I’m also sure my heart grew to twice its size.

Mr. Goldstein clears his throat and begins. “Nice to meet you both. I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Pope. I know these proceedings are hard, especially when you lose a loved one suddenly. Whether it’s a father, mother, or spouse it’s never easy. I hope you can find peace and closure.” Jackson’s hand releases mine abruptly. When I look at him, he seems anxious, uncomfortable. The loss of his warmth and support leaves me bereft. Jackson shoves his hand in his pocket and looks away.

“Thank you, Mr. Goldstein,” I say with a tremble in my voice. There will be no closure because I’ve gained no answers. I don’t even know how you close something that was never opened.

“Please, call me Avi. I assure you this is the least favorite part of my job. I was on your side not too long ago when my wife passed, so I’ll try to make this as easy as possible,” Avi says with a smile.

Suddenly Jackson gets up and walks over to the window. I can see his chest rising and falling powerfully.

“Jackson?”

He looks over with sadness in his eyes before returning to his seat.

“You were saying, Mr. Goldstein,” Jackson says. Any trace of sadness is gone, replaced by the mask of determination I’ve come to know so well.

Avi nods and begins. “I’ll get down to it. Your father’s estate is rather simple. You’re his next of kin. There are no other living relatives, so everything he possessed when he passed is now yours. There is a house in New Jersey as well as some cash and stocks. You were also named as his beneficiary on his life insurance. However, I asked you here so I could give you a letter from your father. His wishes were simple. You are to read this when you’re ready. He mailed it to me in a separate envelope with a letter asking for me to personally ensure you received it.” He stands, extending the letter to me.

A letter. From him. I stand and move forward. My hand is unstable when Mr. Goldstein places the letter in it. As I clasp my fingers around the envelope, a single tear escapes. This could contain all the answers to my doubt, or it could break my heart even more. Placing the letter on my lap, I cover it with my hand, holding on to the last piece of my father. Dread, pain, sadness, wonder, and so many more feelings seep through my veins at all the possible things this letter could say. Did he write it to tell me why he left? Why he never looked back? Will it tell me that I just wasn’t that important to him? All my insecurities come forward full force as the fear of what it could hold nearly cripples me.

“Ms. Pope, I didn’t know your father very well, but I met him a few times. He was a wonderful man. I truly hope he’s at peace.” Avi smiles kindly. “I’ll try to keep this brief. You are due to inherit quite a bit. All your assets total around $300,000 plus whatever the property is worth. His life insurance will need to be dealt with separately, but his policy was around half a million. It’s obvious he wanted you well cared for. Were you close?”

I glance at Jackson, completely overwhelmed. He extends his hand and I eagerly accept the warmth and solace he’s offering. Lacing my fingers with his, I try to fight back the tears as my heart shatters a little more. “No, Avi, we weren’t close. I haven’t spoken to my father in about twenty years. This is very overwhelming for me. I don’t really understand why he left me anything.”

“Well, I can’t answer for him, but maybe his letter will give you the answers you’re looking for. I just need you to sign the paperwork. I have the key here for the house and if there is anything else, I can call you.”

I place the letter and key in my purse and take a moment to collect myself. Walking over to the desk, my hands shake. This is it. The end. The finale to my father’s life. I’ll have no chance of finding out more. There are no living relatives, no family to ask. Whatever’s in the letter is all I’ll have.

The pen is shaking so hard I have to stop twice to try to get my hand under control. Tears stain the paper, and my heart plummets as I finally finish my signature. I let out a strangled sob and press my hand to my mouth to stop the pain trying to make its way out. Somehow I manage to smother it. Squaring my shoulders, I wipe away the tears staining my face.

Avi shakes my hand and places his other on top. “Catherine, even though you didn’t know your father, I know he loved you. My clients come to me because they want their loved ones to find peace and move on. Even when they’re gone they are always a part of us. We never have to truly let them go. They live in our hearts and memories forever.”

Closing my eyes, I absorb his words. “Thank you, Avi. I …” I shake my head, unable to speak, but the understanding in his eyes tells me he doesn’t need a response. He releases my hand with a sad smile and I gather my belongings.

Jackson stays quiet off to the side. As I approach, I notice his furrowed brow and the way he keeps gripping his neck as if he’s uncomfortable.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Once we’re out of the building, I take a deep breath and let the tears roll down my face again. It’s over. I have nothing left. I’m empty. All I want to do is rewind the last ten years and change it all. I want to know who my father was, why he made the choices he did, go back in time and rewrite my story—but I can’t. I miss a man I didn’t even know. How is that possible?

Jackson sees the tears and takes a hesitant step toward me. “I don’t want you to be alone. I’m staying with you tonight. No arguments.”

I couldn’t argue if I wanted to—which I don’t. If Jackson’s close, maybe I can keep it together long enough to read the letter burning a hole in my purse.

The train station is only a few blocks away, and I could use the walk. All I want to do is curl into Jackson, but since we left the office he hasn’t touched me. Even with my scattered mind, I’ve processed that much. Wherever Jackson is, it’s not here. Oh my God. I didn’t take into account how hard this might be for him with his history of loss and grief. Of course bringing up death would push him away. He’s never felt this distant to me. Now I know why. It was selfish to ask him to be with me today.

The two blocks seem to take forever, and with each step it feels like miles separate Jackson and me. He’s stiff and keeps his hands in his pockets while he processes whatever he’s feeling. I want to slap him and force him to talk because his silence is shredding me. Not because he’s doing anything wrong, but because I need to stop my mind from racing over what just happened. Both of us walk in silence until I can’t take it anymore.

“Jackson?” I ask tentatively.

He looks up but doesn’t respond. Every indication, from his tight jaw to his rigid posture, is saying he wants to be left alone.

“Forget it.” I look away, taken aback by his aloofness.

Neither of us says anything else as we approach the train. Where I was quiet and sad a moment ago, now my frustration is growing. If he didn’t want to be with me, then he shouldn’t have said he was coming to my place. He could’ve gone back home and left me alone. I could’ve processed this on my own instead of having him brooding next to me and adding to my stress. I need his arms, his strength, but right now all I’m getting is nothing.

I can’t take another second of this. “Are we going to talk or keep ignoring each other?” My voice is full of the annoyance I’m feeling. Part of it is directed at him, part at this entire day.

“What do you want to talk about?” he says with narrowed eyes.

Apparently he’s irritated by my approach. Good. “Oh, I don’t know. The weather? Why you’re being so quiet and haven’t said a word since we left the office? You can choose.” I’m being a total bitch, but at this point I really don’t care.

“Nice to see you haven’t lost your attitude.” Jackson huffs with a sarcastic smile as the train approaches.

“You said you wanted to come back to my place. I didn’t ask you to.”

His answer comes fast and angry. “I know that.”

“If you didn’t want to be around me or whatever, you didn’t have to.” I throw over my shoulder as I board the train. Fuck him. He wants to be a jerk, he can do it alone. I’m going home, pouring myself an overflowing glass of wine, and finding the courage to read this freaking letter.

Just thinking about it makes me nauseous. There are so many things it could say, some of which I’m not ready to face. But I know myself well enough to know I’ll never sleep if I don’t get it over with soon. His attitude isn’t helping.

I’m facing the window, refusing to look at him, when the seat next to me moves. He doesn’t say a word, but the warmth of his hand on my leg stills me and a tear falls from the corner of my eye. God! I’m a mess! One minute I’m livid, and then he touches me and I cry.

“I want to be with you. That’s why I’m here.” His voice is low, full of the strength I’ve come to rely on.

I turn and face him, hopeful that he means that. “This isn’t easy for me, you know? Trusting you, letting you be here for me. You don’t understand how hard this is.”

He wipes the tears from my face and gently cradles me to his chest. “I know more than you think.”

“How so?” My voice is barely a whisper, but I know he hears me when he lets out a long breath. I sit up and stare at him through blurry eyes, waiting for his answer.

The pain that lances across his perfect face erases all my anger.

“You know about the fucking hell I’ve been through, Catherine. Do you think I wanted anyone around me? I hated myself. I hated everyone who talked to me, touched me, or made me feel. I wanted to die with them.” His hand touches his chest and then moves to his shoulder. “You can’t imagine the man I was during that time. Anger?” He scoffs before going on, “Baby, you can’t imagine what angry looked like. So you want to be mad at me, be mad.”

The train stops, halting our conversation. I don’t fully understand his withdrawal. He’s the one who’s pushed me repeatedly, and now suddenly he’s retreating? And yes, I’m mad. I’m mad at him, at my father, at my mother, and anyone else who made me this way.

As we exit the train, my mind begins to wander, thinking about the pain he must have been in. Losing people you know and love, people who understand you and stand beside you … I can’t think about any of this right now. My brain can’t contain any more. I want to change into my comfy clothes, drink a bottle … errr glass of wine, and forget this day ever happened.

Standing here, facing each other, the silence stretches for miles. Both of us trying to read the other. Both lost in some form of grief. Gripping my hips, he pulls me close. I close my eyes and relish his embrace. Here I feel okay. I’m safe when his arms are around me, protecting me, but is my heart? In this moment I don’t care. I mold to him, allowing his strength to surround me.