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Like an extra two zeroes at the end too much.
She laughs. “Your father said you would say that.” She holds out a sealed envelope, my name scribbled across the front. It’s my dad’s handwriting.
Not wanting to open it here, I take it from her and fold it in half with the check and stuff it in my purse. It feels like my purse weighs a million pounds.
Or make that two million.
“All set?”
I nod, hurrying past them down the street. The last thing I want to do is tell them what happened without reading the letter first.
“Aspen, are you all right?” Halli asks, running to catch up with me.
“Yeah. I’m just exhausted. Can we go rest?”
She doesn’t question me, but she knows something happened. As soon as we make it to our hut, I dash to the bathroom and lock the door. With a quick deep breath, I sit on the toilet and tear open the letter.
Aspen,
If you’re reading this, you have cleared out your account. The little extra money is yours. I never spent a dime of the money they gave me for your hit, plus the interest. It wasn’t mine to spend as I didn’t deserve it. But you do. Think of it as restitution for me stealing your life. I still have no regrets. Go spread your wings, Manu. The world is yours now.
Love,
Dad
The brief letter feels like a life’s worth of words. I need to dissect each sentence again.
A little extra? No. A lot extra.
Money for my hit? I don’t know how I feel about having the money that someone paid him to kill me.
Stealing my life and no regrets? Do I deserve this money? Is it even legal?
I jump at a knock at the door. “Aspen are you okay?”
Leaning over, I turn the knob and pull the door open. As soon as Halli catches sight of my tear-stained face, she kneels. “What happened at the bank?”
I’m not sure if I should show her the letter, but I’d rather find out now if the money is illegal. I hand her the letter and check.
Her eyes widen when she sees the amount of the check. “Wow. You really did great at your cookie business.”
I chuckle. “Read the letter. Is the money legal?”
After reading the note, she answers, “I’ll make some calls.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ryker
“Thanks for coming with me,” I whisper into Bree’s ear as we walk through the doors to the Make-A-Wish Gala. A charity near to my heart, no matter how screwed up my life is, I’d never miss this. I wish Aspen was here though.
“I know how much this means to you,” she replies, resting her head on my shoulder.
I nod, remembering the reason I’m here. Garrison Reid. My best friend. My teammate since peewee football. When we were Juniors in high school, they diagnosed him with a rare form of leukemia. Watching his life drain from his eyes in front of me was the worst part of my childhood. But for a moment in time in his last days, it was as if nothing was wrong and we were back to being carefree assholes living the life. Make-A-Wish sent both of us to an NFL football game, front row seats and passes to meet the players after.
That day changed my life. Even at the young age of seventeen, I knew what the wishes meant to people, and I made a promise to Garrison to do everything in my power to help the charity in his name.
We stop as a camera snaps a picture and continue walking as if we hit a speed bump in the road. I’m so numb to the process, it doesn’t faze me anymore. Stop. Smile. Walk.
