Purple Haze (Blue Dream Book 2) (19 page)

Ryder

“There's no reason I should be going to this,” I mumble behind Noah as I follow him around the corner to the private room where the reading of our father's will is occurring. “I don't need to hear in a room full of people he left me nothing.”

Noah slows his tracks and slides his hands in his pockets. “How do you know he left you nothing?”

A sarcastic look leaves me.

“Come on, Ryder. You saw him in his final days. He wasn't the same man we grew up with. What if his will reflects that?”

“What if it doesn't?”

My big brother rolls his eyes as we take a seat at the round table beside each other. To his left is Liz and to her side my mother. While Liz and I spent a little time together when she first flew in two weeks ago, it didn't take long to see her disgust for me hasn't disappeared. The way she clutched her bag when I was in the room. The instinct to stay behind if I would be going somewhere with them. Hell, she even bailed during the weekly dinners pretending she had old friends in town who were desperate to see her. I did my best to not let it bother me. Between Law and Presley I manage to accept that to her I will always be the worthless addict. Apparently no matter how hard you want second chances you don't always get them. People aren't always forgiving. The anxiety surrounding that truth, is soothed by more hits from my soul mate. They're not always sexual. Sometimes it's a head rub. A back massage. Sometimes it's feeding her bites of dinner. It's really the emotional connection we're both addicted to.

“Your suit is nice, Ryder,” my mother compliments quietly.

“Probably stole it,” Liz mutters.

“Stop,” Noah hushes her.

“And it was nice to see you with Presley again.”

Unlike my dying father she has yet to reach out. At the funeral between fake tears she couldn't manage to muster up, she didn't bother a wave or show an expression of remorse my direction.

Suddenly, a thin man with a briefcase enters the room. “Thank you for joining me. I'm Peter Crosby, Mr. Collins's estate attorney. While it is unusual for a reading of the will to still occur, Mr. Collins had specific instructions to be followed in order for you to collect your entitlements. This started with the intimate burial.”

That's exactly what it was. Just the family, our significant others, and Mary, the nurse who I found out had been personally tending to him for longer than even Noah was aware.              

“We shall continue with a brief reading. Let me thank you for abiding by a dead man's wishes and let me assure you that you will all be receiving legal copies of this document.”  The man slides a pair of silver glasses onto his face. “To my family, thank you for following by my final wishes and keeping this meeting between you and Peter. I know you all have lives you're in a rush to get back to, so let me proceed quickly after encouraging you to take a lesson from my life. Slow down. Appreciate one another, because at the end of it all money isn't what you take away from this life.”

His cliché speech slides me down in the chair.

“Sit up,” Noah fusses in a brotherly yet parental tone that scrunches my face.

I don't move. It's enough I have to be here because he demanded it. I don't have to sit the way he commands too.

“To Mary, my nurse who Marcy probably insisted not be in the room.”

I smirk because that's exactly what happened.

“You will be receiving one year of salary to be paid out as it normally would be if I were still alive. You will also be transferred the title of my car to your name and paid insurance for a year. I hope this helps make your own son’s care easier.”

“That's ludicrous,” my mother shouts. “He couldn't have been competent when this was created if he left
her
that.”

“Mom,” Noah snaps.

Peter looks up over the rim of his glasses. “Mr. Collins received medical competency before creating this Last Will and Testament. There will be an attachment of it with your copies.”

She huffs and waves her hand for him to continue.

“To Marcy, the woman I once loved,” he begins again. “To you I leave the photos of the children and grandchildren. May you finally realize their priceless value.”

The scoff shoots my eyes to a woman whose greed has never been so evident. I guess it has been years since I've seen her face to face like this. Somehow she doesn't just look older but scorned. The woman beside my sister has no motherly remains from the alienated childhood I recall. No. Much like the man who raised me,
that
woman is dead.

A fit of incomprehensible grumbles come from her moments before she pulls a flask out of her purse.

“Mom!” Liz fusses.

She rolls her eyes at my sister and has another drink.

I hide my laughter behind my covered hand as the weight of the disappointment this family has become lands on Noah's shoulders. Being a father really did change him. Every decision around us he makes with Shelly and Shelby in mind. From his forgiveness towards me to struggling to reconnect this forsaken family. Over the past couple of weeks I've began to see my brother needs the very support he shells out. I'm doing my best to give him that. He appreciates it.

“To my beautiful daughter, Liz. I leave you the house and it's furnishings as well as a year of property taxes for it. I hope you decide to move back home and start your family here. I hope you see the importance of being close to your brothers.”

Her eyes glance at Noah with compassion. Unfortunately it's short lived when her sight lands on me. It's not about what was lost between us. It's about what
should
be being built between us now. But I'm not the one refusing to let go of the past.

“To Noah.” Peter briefly meets eyes with him. “There is a college trust left behind for Shelby. You will be left my stocks and other investments. You were always better at them than me.”

My brother slightly smiles.

“I will also be leaving you the beach house. I'm hoping you succeed in fixing this broken family and become the man of it. Something I never managed to do.”

Noah nods and I drop a strong hand on his shoulder. When he looks at me, I nod as encouragement. I'm willing to keep trying. Not because I owe that asshole anything, but the future Collins children deserve something we never had. And there will be
plenty
of future generations of Collins. Shelly was telling Pres as soon as Shelby hits one they will be trying again and Presley has expressed her desire to have lots of children when we're in a more stable place. We'll get there. I know we will.

“And lastly, to my son Ryder. It's hard to say anything I think you'll listen to. Honestly, I'm surprised you're sitting in the room.”

Makes two of us.

“I thank Noah.”

And I blame him.

“But I want you to know I'm sorry for the way I mistreated you. While there is no compensation for shitty parenting, please take this money and build a future you deserve. I leave you what was in all my bank accounts. Domestic and foreign. 2.2 million after taxes.”

Disbelief darts my eyebrows down.

“That's
after
taxes?” Liz questions. “Does it say that?”

Peter nods. “It does.”

“Wait, I get photo albums and he gets 2 million dollars?” My mother shrieks. “We were married for years!”

“And he paid alimony for years,” Liz snips.

“Mom,” Noah tries but is cut off by her abrupt standing.

“This is...unbelievable.”

Her storming out is followed with our sister's sneer. “He hated you and left you basically
everything
? What the hell?”

I attempt to lighten her disappointment. “Poetic justice?”

“That's insane,” she growls. “You're just gonna blow it all on coke and....hookers!”

“Liz!” Our brother interjects.

“Since you haven't managed to give me a decent look since you flew down here on your broomstick, let me clarify this. I'm a
recovering
addict. As in I'm clean. As in I work my ass off to stay that away.” Pointing a harsh finger at her I add, “And if you ever disrespect Presley again, there's not shit Noah can say to stop me from verbally ripping you a new one.”

“Ugh,” Liz grunts and storms out in a similar fashion to our mother.

My head slowly rotates back to Peter. “Tell me that was a joke to scare them off.”

He stacks the papers in his possession. “Afraid not.”

“There's no way in hell he left me 2 million-”

“2.2,” Peter corrects and slips the paperwork in his brief case. “And he did. Copies have been mailed to all of you and Mr. Collins's accountant will be in touch soon to transfer over funds. You should also be aware he was anticipating taxes and other fees. There was a separate account for which that would be coming from. If there was by chance money left in it, Noah you are in charge of its distribution.”

My brother nods.

Peter wishes us a good afternoon and disappears the same way the rest of the family took off, except he shuts the door behind him.

I scrub my face at the sick, twisted joke this is. On a shrug I state, “I don't want it.”

Immediately his head snaps at me. “What?!”

“I don't want it.” Exasperation boils down to bitterness. “I don't want fucking guilt money, Noah. That's all he's ever done for me. Throw money at the problem in hopes it disappears. Fuck him and his final effort to apologize poorly.”

As soon as I stand, Noah grabs my arm to cease further movements. “Take the money, Ryder.”

“I-”

“I don't fucking care how much you hated him,” my brother grunts. “I know you blame him for many things, most importantly for robbing you of a future you wanted, but here's your chance to take it back. Take the money. Put yourself in school. Put a ring on Presley's finger. Donate some to help others get clean. Take the money Ryder and back your future in every aspect possible.”

Noah's proposal drops my ass back into the chair. He's right. I should take the money and continue to rebuild my future the way I
want
without fear of financial stipulations.  As much as I hate how it feels like one giant payout with compound interest for destroying ten years of my life, I have to stop thinking about what I lost and start to prepare for what I'd like to gain. It's time I lock the door to what once was and focus with everything I have on the common goal I share with Noah. It's time I become addicted to building a better and brighter future for our children. For Presley. For me.

Epilogue

Presley

“We are excited to have you starting with us this winter,” the admission's woman says with a wide grin. “If you have any further questions, feel free to send me an email or call the office.”

Ryder accepts her extended hand with a similar smirk. “Will do.”

The two of us exit the red brick building, immediately greeted by a cool breeze and the warm fall sun. He drapes his arm around my shoulder and tugs me in closer. After his father passed away, he left Ryder with more than enough money to go back to school or explore any other avenue he desired. While my instinct was to push him to get back into school, to better his education, I didn't. I knew it wasn't my place to decide. It was my job to
support
whatever it is he wanted, just like it's his job to support whatever it is I want, like possibly becoming a franchise. Ryder eventually decided he was content working for Big Mike and wanted to go in on ownership of the other shop if possible. The two of them came to an agreement, which led Ryder to go after his associates degree. While starting classes sooner was a choice, we both agreed waiting until after the insanity of holidays would be wiser.

“You sure you don't want me to come to the Thanksgiving feast next week?” he offers as we head for his car. “I don't mind taking off a couple hours to help.”

“Really, really, not,” I refuse his help for the millionth time. “Most of the day I'll be running around like a turkey with it's head cut off. The last thing I want is for you to question the deranged control freak you're dating.”

On a chuckle he opens my car door. “I never question that.”

I peck him on the lips before slipping in. Once he's in the vehicle and buckled I say, “If you've got time next week, there are Christmas decorations I have in another storage unit that I need brought to school. I mean, if you've got the time to do that.”

His hands fold with mine. “Of course.”

“Two strong men lifting boxes goes a lot faster than just one.”

My reference to Merrick has him giving me a dirty look. “Which one of us is the initial strong man in this scenario?”

Giggling receives me a squeeze of the hand.

Ryder and Merrick have developed a friendship past working out at the same time. While the original lease he signed was for a year, Ryder agreed to continue to pay his portion of it and bills, but would be moving out in January insisting the two of us living together would make more sense. Of course Merrick refused the money and insisted he would just find a replacement with the promise the four of us would continue hanging out. They've come over for dinner and board games to the town house already, so now it'll just be finding a way to continue that tradition between everyone's class schedules. While Katherine initially questioned the quickness of our moving relationship, she agrees with many of the decisions we've been making such as agreed upon separate dates with friends, to joint recovery meetings, to transitioning our families from separate entities to one that will be comfortable celebrating Thanksgiving together next week. We have also managed to master the art of drowning outside opinions and doubts that don't serve us. We work through everything as a team now, with the shared understanding, it's about what we
want
and need.

Ryder pulls into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant unexpectedly and declares. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it a prize in a kid's meal?”

The joke is met with a smirk and the revealing of a blindfold from his pocket.

“You wanna blind fold me?”

“You let me do it during sex.”

“Um...that's a little different.”

“I would think it would be easier in broad daylight,” he argues. Rather than continue to fight he states, “Can I please blindfold you?”

On an unsure sigh, I give in. “Okay. But I swear if you leave me stranded somewhere-”

“Why would I leave you stranded somewhere?”

Not having a good rebuttal forces me to shrug. He lightly chuckles and waits for me to lean forward. As soon as I do he covers my glasses with the silk mask. Uneasy, I flop back against the seat.

“Don't pout,” he laughs again.

The car starts to move and I clutch the handle tightly. The trip in the vehicle is short, but the long winding walk afterward is enough to have my anxiety levels rising. After riding an escalator upward, or at least I'm assuming that's why the stairs are moving, I'm lead a little further before being completely stopped in the unknown. Impatiently I wait for further instructions.

Thankfully Ryder says, “Alright. You can take it off now.”

In one good pull my eyes are free to adjust to the sight of Christmas lights hung haphazardly around the room alongside Paris themed posters. A boy band croons in the background as I finally let my eyes meet his.

“Over ten years ago, you were standing right here when you decided to walk out of my life.”

My jaw cracks open at the room I barely recognize.

“For the life of me I can't remember what the theme of Prom was that year, but the year
before
, the year we went together, it was this.”

Smiling at the recollection I say, “We went to IHOP afterward.”

“We did. And after that we fell asleep together. I thought to myself we would begin and end all our days like that in the future.”

“Now we usually do.”

He nods. “But the next year, this is where you stood when you told me that I had lost you.” His face sulks. “It was the most horrible moment of my life. The only person I ever loved, the only person I ever really wanted, told me goodbye right here.” At that Ryder lowers himself down on one knee. “In this same spot, Presley Morrison, I am asking you to tell our future hello.”

My sharp gasp is caught by my hands as a princess cut diamond is exposed from a little black box.

“I thought I lost you forever here and that's something I never want to do again. I'm asking you Presley Morrison if you'll allow me to spend the rest of our lives fighting to make sure we never get that lost again. I'm asking you to allow me through the good and the bad to always find my way back to you. To be the one, despite unpleasant circumstances, you always find your way back to.”

With everything I have I fight the urge to turn into the cliché who cries during a proposal.

“Pres, will you marry me?”

A sob seeps out at the same time I rapidly nod. “Yes...God yes.”

His shaky hand slides the ring onto my finger before he stands to drop a heated kiss onto my lips. When he pulls back I whimper at the loss, which essentially makes him smile. “Pres, can I have your first and last dance?”

Giggling at the question, I whisper through my tears, “Always.”

Ryder wraps his arms around me and I rest my head on his chest, the cheesy music of our youth now the soundtrack of our future. With my eyes shut, I hold closely the embodiment of my only addiction, my biggest passion, and the one wild card in my deck I can't live without.