Dylan.

His signature at the bottom was mottled from the severity of my tears. I couldn't breathe. My hand clasped to my chest in an effort to pull life back into my lungs.

I wiped the page, hoping I didn't take the ink away with my fingertips. This was my last string to Dylan, his words, his name, his last everything; and it was in my hands. I didn’t know when he had time to write it, but I couldn't have asked for a more perfect ending to our love story.

Even from the grave, he was still remembering me, loving me, and he had shown me every day while he was alive. With his letter, he put his love down in words.

Words I would cherish forever.

Pulling myself together, I focused on the stack of papers laying on the bed. I lifted the first form from the pile.

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF

Dylan Highsmith.

I, Dylan Highsmith, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. I revoke all wills and codicils previously made by me.

ARTICLE I

I appoint Bing and Dumont Solicitors as my Personal Representative to administer this Will, and ask that he/she be permitted to serve without court supervision and without posting bond.

ARTICLE II

I direct my Personal Representative to pay out of my residuary estate all of the expenses of my last illness, administration expenses, all legally enforceable creditor claims, all Federal estate taxes, state inheritance taxes, and all other governmental charges imposed by reason of my death, without seeking reimbursement from or charging any person for any part of the taxes and charges paid.

ARTICLE III

I devise, bequeath, and give my 2014 Silverado to Haven Torres.

I devise, bequeath, and give my personal belongings to Haven Torres.

ARTICLE IV

I devise, bequeath, and give all of the rest and remainder of my residuary estate as follows:

100% of my savings in the total amount of $1,657,954.77 to Haven Torres.

The rest of the form became one big blur as I dropped the paper in my hand onto the waiting stack sitting on the bed. My hands came up to my mouth in shock. I flicked back the duvet causing papers to flurry into the air and ran to the bathroom losing what little bit of lunch I had managed to get down.

Jude

I couldn’t take the sound of her grief any longer. I wanted nothing more than to burst in her bathroom and take her into my arms. I knew she had read his letter; her sobs ricocheted around her tiny apartment like they were broadcast over a loudspeaker.

“Hey, I need to get out of here.” I tapped Mace on the shoulder and nodded toward the door. “Think she’ll mind if I take off for a bit? I won’t go far. I could use some fresh air.”

Mace looked me up and down, taking in my disheveled appearance. “Yeah, man, take all the time you need. We are gonna hang here for when Haven comes out. She’ll understa—”

I didn’t let him finish. “No, I want to be here when she comes out.” I ran my hand through my unwashed mess of hair. “Just text me, okay? I’ll be close by.”

Mace nodded again, Scarlett leaning against his shoulder.

“Will do, brother. Thanks.” He stood, and held out his hand. I took it and gave him a firm shake.

Scarlett reached past him and embraced me. “Don’t give up, Jude. You knew this would take time,” she whispered.

“Yeah. I know.” I turned on my heel to get the hell out of there. My mind was wheeling with conflicted thoughts of needing to go to her and wanting to give her space. My head knew what I needed to do, but convincing my heart was another story.

I didn’t know how much more either part of me could take.

Jude

“Can you gift wrap that please?” I asked the sales lady behind the glass counter.

It had taken me three full weeks to leave Haven’s apartment for the first time, not counting the brief stints I spent outside; both gathering my thoughts and fighting claustrophobia from being caged inside her itty-bitty home. I had my staff taking care of the garage, and the boys had spent their time between Teeny, Scarlett and Ma, on top of visiting with Haven and me at her apartment in the afternoons. I had still been a little afraid to leave her completely alone, but she was starting to function. Now, five months after she had said goodbye to the man she loved, she was doing much better. Or at least she was trying. She was out of bed almost all day now, eating, drinking and being semi social. The first few weeks had been hard on her; however, she had gone back to work and was learning to live her life for the best again. I didn’t think she was ever going to be that sweet, innocent-yet-broken woman I fell in love with, but the stronger being that emerged from her sorrow just made me love her all the more.

“Absolutely, sir,” she replied, taking out some soft pink tissue paper looking stuff and a bunch of ribbon.

I slid my cellphone out of my back pocket and swiped across the screen, checking it again in case Haven had called and I’d not heard it. Never mind the fact that I had only checked it a dozen times in the ten minutes I’d been standing in the jewelry store.

“Here you go.” The sales assistant slid a neatly wrapped box toward me and placed her hands on the counter. “A very lucky lady to receive that one.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty special, but I’m the lucky one, ma’am.” I nodded to her and took the box, hoping my clammy palms wouldn’t ruin the wrapping. I made the quick ten-minute walk back to Haven’s apartment and headed up the stairs. Her gift clutched tightly in hand.

She’d slowly started to open up to me over the last few weeks. I felt as though she may give me a chance to love her again. I was hoping, actually. And maybe this gift would be the start of something new and unwavering; just maybe we could build something amazing on the ruins of our hearts.